#from the moment i was born i wouldn't stop screaming

[wholoveseggs]

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

sum more pre-vinnie sam and reader😫i wanna see them get excited over his arrival, looking at some clothes and toys for him

PAIRING: sam monroe x pregnant!reader

You wouldn't really describe SAM MONROE as someone to get overly enthusiastic, but there were some situations where you could clearly see it. And this day was today. You've been needing some assentials for the up-coming baby you're carrying. Clothes, toys, more diapers, more colorful everything. And with that, here you were, in the middle of the store, watching how sam's hands lingered on the tiniest onesies at the store, black jeans hanging low as he leaned against the stroller display. Those eyes in eyeliner scanned the rows of baby clothes, trying to look bored, but missing terribly as the corner of his mouth kept twitching like he was fighting back a grin.

“You think this’ll fit him?” he asked, pointing to a onesie with a little cartoon bear on it. He tilted his head, imagining it on your soon-to-be baby boy. “Kinda small, isn’t it?”

You laughed, stealing the onesie from the hanger and adding it to the shopping bag “Sam, he’s gonna be tiny. Like, tiny tiny. I'm not giving birth to a linebacker.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, he better grow fast. Don’t want him staying all fragile and…breakable.” he mumbled

When you reached the toys section, Sam couldn’t hide it anymore. His eyes lit up at a miniature skateboard, hand immediately grabbing it. “Yo, we’re getting this. I’ll teach him.”

You arched a brow, trying not to laugh at the enthusiastic excitement evident in his his voice. “Sam, he’s not even born yet. It’s gonna be years before he’s riding a skateboard.”

He shrugged, but his grin widened even more “Whatever. Better get him started early. He’s gonna be cool as hell.”

Eventually, you found yourself in the rocking chair aisle, Sam sitting down in one of the display chairs with a sigh. “These things are ugly,” he muttered, but then he leaned back, arms out, as if imagining holding your baby here. Those pinkish lips twitched again, betraying these softer thoughts.

You crouched down beside him, whispering to tease him “You’re gonna be an amazing daddy, you know?”

His eyes softened, before a smirk curled on his lips “Yeah? I don’t know about that.” He chuckled, but it was shaky. “Just don’t want to screw him up, you know?”

You kissed his cheek “You won’t. You’ve got so much love for him already, Sam. I see it every time you pick something out for him, every time you even talk about what he’ll be like.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed faintly “Yeah, well, he’s gotta come out as the best Monroe this family ever had. Like, ya know, some little hero or shit"

He stood abruptly with a sigh, grabbing the little blue onesie again and tossing it in the cart. “We’re getting this one. And the skateboard.”

You watched Sam out of the corner of your eye as he pushed the cart lazily down the store aisle. You were in fourth shop this day, so your feet were burning and you were hungry but there was too much cuteness in this shop to leave right now.

Sam stopped abruptly in the toy section when his gaze landed on a plush bunny tucked among the stuffed animals. It wasn’t flashy, just a simple gray bunny with floppy ears and button eyes.

You didn’t say a word, just watched as he reached out, fingers brushing over the soft fabric. He picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hands like it was something fragile, something important to him.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it. His thumb ran over one of the ears, and you saw something flicker in his eyes—something tender, something that screamed of the love he already felt for a baby boy who hadn’t even arrived yet.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you, just gently placed the bunny in the cart. It was such a contrast to the way he’d tossed diapers and onesies in earlier, like they were nothing.

You bit back a smile as you waddled up beside him. “You think he’ll like it?” you asked softly.

Sam shrugged as if he just did not turn into a softie seconds ago “I dunno. Thought it might be…nice. For him to have, y’know? Something to hold on to..it's not really ugly like the rest of those shitty toys”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

[dreamcubed]

...ready for it? | mattheo riddle x reader

song; ...ready for it? [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; fake dating, s2l, fluff, smut word count; 5,3k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, references to alcohol/drugs/smoking, violence, blood and injury, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, discrimination (of muggle-borns) summary; following the war, mattheo is suffocated by the association with his father, and decides there is only one way to make people see that he is nothing like him. you, on the other hand, want to prove to people that, in the year you've been in hiding, you have changed from the naïve goody-two-shoes you once were

screaming crying throwing up at how good tortured poets department is

masterlist

"in the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do."

————————————————

The rumours followed Mattheo Riddle like hitmen— praying for his downfall, never leaving him alone, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. To many, it was obvious what he was before even meeting him. Evidently, the son of the Dark Lord was every bit as bad as his father, would fill his shoes now that he was dead, that there would be a Third Wizarding War with Mattheo at the very centre of it. Never mind that he hardly knew his father, that Voldemort had been gone for almost his entire childhood.

After the final demise of the Dark Lord, and Mattheo had elected to return to Hogwarts for the subsidiary eighth year, his reputation built on gossip and assumptions had only gotten worse. It hadn't helped that he now bore the dark mark on his left forearm, and he had tried to explain that his father had forced him to take it, that he would have hurt him in unthinkable ways if he didn't, but no one listened. No one cared. He still had his friends, but his association with them didn't help, as most of them were pure-blooded Slytherins whose families were death eaters.

But without them he would have nothing.

He didn't understand— no one was nearly as mad at Draco for walking over to the Dark Lord at the final battle as they were at him for simply possessing some of his DNA. It made him resent his cousin, but he knew he couldn't blame him. He had been every bit as coerced into the death eater cult as him: threatened with the deaths of them and their families.

Muggle-borns and the majority of the half-bloods avoided him like the plague; even some pure-bloods, who were far more politically correct, looked at him with distaste in their eyes. Mattheo wanted to scream to the whole world that he wasn't his father and didn't give a single fuck about blood purity. But who would listen? They would see that he was screaming and immediately associate his anger with the desire to start a war.

You, on the other hand, also couldn't escape your reputation. Prior to the war, you had been known as a goody-two-shoes, called uptight, boring, a smartass. While in hiding throughout seventh year, you had shed any resemblance you had to such an identity, but despite appearing and acting completely differently now you had returned for the subsidiary eighth year, your peers still treated you like a naïve and overly innocent child. Bullied you, even, in some more extreme cases. They viewed you as socially inept, sexually unaware, scared of alcohol, smoking and drugs.

They wouldn't listen when you told them that you had changed— so, there you found yourself, in a Saturday detention after doing something incredibly stupid to get people to stop seeing you that way. The stupid thing in question? You had let yourself get caught being outside of your house quarters after curfew. It was pathetic, and an admittedly idiotic thing to do just for the sake of changing your reputation, but there you were.

Worst thing was it hadn't even worked.

"I bet she had a panic attack," a Ravenclaw girl had giggled.

"She definitely got on her knees and started begging for the professor to show mercy," a Hufflepuff boy had laughed.

They still saw you as pathetic and helpless: a certified teacher's pet.

"Miss L/N, you'll be serving detention with Mr Riddle today," Professor McGonagall spoke, snapping you out of your self-pitying thoughts, "Your task will be to clean every cauldron here in the potions classroom— by hand, no magic— until they are gleaming."

You glanced over to your right to see that Mattheo Riddle was indeed sat there: he must have snuck in while you were deep in thought. It was just your luck, that your weak attempt would have the worst possible consequences— being stuck in detention with the Dark Lord's son as a muggle-born.

"I will check on you both periodically." The headmistress then departed, but not before saying to you, "I'm disappointed in you, Miss L/N."

Even your professors still saw you as naïve. It made you angry.

Mattheo watched you curiously as you stormed over to the big stack of cauldrons and roughly grabbed one, slamming it down on the floor and grabbing the muggle cleaning supplies left out. You started scrubbing in such an anger-fuelled rigorous manner that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be helping you.

"You gonna help or not?" you snapped.

His eyes widened, and he couldn't stop a smirk from gracing his lips, "Never thought I'd see the day where goody-two-shoes L/N is in detention and yells at me."

"Would people stop fucking saying that?" you said all too loud, "I hate it. I fucking hate it."

"Hate what?" Mattheo asked delicately, standing up and walking over to grab a cauldron from the pile.

"Being called a goody-two-shoes like I'm some kind of child," you scowled, "I'm sick of being treated like I've never even had a sip of alcohol."

This was the first time since before the war that a muggle-born had even entertained having a full conversation with Mattheo, even if you were filled with rage throughout it. Because of that, he decided that he needed to calm you down and make you actually like him— association with a muggle-born could completely transform his reputation.

"I'm sorry," he said delicately, the words foreign to him, "I didn't realise it hurt you so much."

You stopped scrubbing the cauldron to look up at him with shock evident on your face: had the son of Voldemort just apologised to you? He had to be mocking you, there was no way he wasn't. "You're making fun of me," you said cautiously.

"I'm not, I swear," he held his hands up in surrender, "I know all too well what it's like to not be able to escape a reputation."

"Aren't you in here for getting into a fight?" you raised an eyebrow curiously.

He nodded grimly, "Guy wouldn't stop saying I'm exactly like my father."

And that was when your opinion of Mattheo began to soften, and you started to feel bad for assuming he hated muggle-borns simply because of who his father was. But he did have the Dark Mark.

"If you're not like him, why did you get that?" you gestured towards his left arm, which was covered but everyone knew what sat there.

Mattheo drew back, "He was responsible for genocide, do you really think he was beyond threatening me if I didn't take it?" His words were cold, and angry.

"Sorry," you mumbled, regretting asking such a personal question when you hardly knew him.

Silence fell upon you both for a couple minutes as you polished away at the cauldrons.

"For the record, I didn't ever think you'd only had a sip of alcohol."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "No?"

He shrugged, "Everyone gets drunk. I just thought you only did it outside of school."

A small smile crept on to your face, "Thank you, mind telling everyone else that?"

"Sure."

You had said it as a joke— you didn't expect him to be so agreeable. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Oh, God, now I feel so bad."

"Why?" Mattheo asked, finding your muggle-speaking mannerisms endearing.

"Because I believed your reputation."

"You don't anymore?"

You shook your head, "This is the first time someone's ever treated me my age."

He tilted his head curiously, "You know, I think we might be able to help each other's reputations."

"You do?"

"Think about it," he shifted closer to you, "People think I hate muggle-borns, you're a muggle-born. People think you're an innocent goody-two-shoes, I'm known for being quite the opposite."

"So...?"

"We date."

Your brain short circuited and you dropped your cloth into the cauldron, "We... date?"

"Not for real," he clarified, "Just until people's views of us are changed."

You thought it over. It was true: no one would think of Mattheo as like his father if he was willingly in a relationship with a muggle-born, and no real goody-two-shoes would date bad boy Mattheo Riddle.

"Okay," you said, holding out your hand, "Let's do it."

The boy smirked, taking your hand, "Perfect."

***

When you arrived at dinner that evening, after a long few hours of cleaning cauldrons until they glistened, it was hand in hand. He squeezed your palm softly as watchful eyes observed the two of you together, and he even tugged you over to the Slytherin table, making you give him a worried look.

"They'll be civil," he leaned down to whisper in your ear. You nodded nervously.

All of his friends were in silence as they watched you take a seat next to Mattheo, and their jaws almost dropped when he began dishing food on to your plate first. You felt embarrassed under their gaze, but you didn't let it show, thanking Mattheo once your plate was full. He gave you a soft smile that you had never seen grace his face before— not that you had ever been close enough to him to see it.

One of his friends, Blaise Zabini, cleared his throat and broke the silence, "So, uh, are you two a thing?"

"Yeah," your 'boyfriend' replied.

"I didn't even know you were courting," Blaise stated simply, clearly suspicious.

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Mattheo said vaguely, "Can't a man have some secrets?"

Silence fell once more.

"Do any of you have a problem?" he asked, the slightest hint of anger lacing his tone.

They all immediately shook their heads.

"Good."

Despite Mattheo's friends being remarkably docile towards you, you could still feel the stare of other people littered around the room. It was quite a shock, you supposed, as you two were probably the last couple anyone would have expected. Regardless, they should really learn to mind their business— if they did, you wouldn't have to be doing a whole fake dating scheme in the first place.

***

Mattheo walked you to class, held your hand in the corridors, and even carried your books for you wherever you went. Stares continued to follow, but people no longer called you a goody-two-shoes: no, instead when you overheard people ask about you, they said "she's Riddle's girl" instead. You would prefer to be thought of as your own person, but it was certainly a step up from the reputation that you were so sick of. That, and Mattheo had informed you that muggle-borns were no longer avoiding him like the plague, even occasionally nodding at him in the hallways. All around, the plan was working.

No one knew that your dating scheme was fake apart from the two of you, even his friends believed it— and, despite your blood status, they were beginning to warm up to you. Pansy especially, and you were grateful to finally have someone that you could consider a friend.

One chilly Tuesday morning, when Mattheo was walking you to your ancient runes lesson, there was another girl in your class being 'dropped off' by her boyfriend. You both watched as he leaned down to peck her lips before leaving, and you didn't think anything of it until you reached the door and Mattheo leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Taken aback, your ears heated up, and you felt shy as he smirked at you.

"What was that for?" you whispered.

The man before you shrugged, "He did it. Can't have people knowing the truth about us."

"They have no reason to suspect it," you grumbled, but you couldn't deny the butterflies swarming around your stomach.

"Better safe than sorry," he grinned cheekily, "I'll see you later, doll, yeah?"

You nodded, caught off guard when he kissed you yet again.

You were in a daze when you entered the classroom, and you knew that everyone could guess why there was a smile plastered on your face. You felt like a lovesick fool, when you weren't even in love.

***

Mattheo had insisted that people would question the validity of your relationship if you didn't go on Hogsmeade dates together: every Hogwarts couple went on dates to Hogsmeade. You had reminded him that people had no reason to question whether or not your relationship was fake, but he had once again shrugged and said, "Better safe than sorry." Not that you minded, of course, you had always wanted to participate in the Hogsmeade dating tradition. Although, it did make you wonder how long this dating scheme would go on for, as Mattheo's reputation was essentially already completely transformed.

"Can we go in Honeydukes?" you asked as Mattheo, like the gentleman he apparently was, helped you down from the carriage.

"Of course," he smiled, not letting your hand go, "Wherever you want, doll."

Your stomach flipped, but there remained an itching notion in the back of your head. It was fake: it was all fake. He was only being so gentlemanly and caring to prove to the school that not only did he not share his father's views on muggle-borns, but that he could dote on one like it was his life's purpose. All he wanted was to no longer be seen as the devil's incarnate, so he presented himself as an angel. But, when he looked at you with that smirk and that glint in his eyes, it would feel real— just for the briefest moment. No one had ever been romantically interested in you before, maybe that's why you felt his actions deep in your core.

"Hello? Y/N?" his voice snapped you out of your drifting thoughts, and you realised that he was talking to you.

"Hm?"

"Thought I'd lost you there," he chuckled, "C'mon, doll— Honeydukes, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry," you looked down abashedly, and his grip on your hand tightened.

"Sometime this year, if that's okay with you."

***

Mattheo's ring-clad hands left a cool trail against your blazing skin, setting your insides alight as you felt wetness pool at your core. He had his signature smirk settled on his face, the smooth curve of his pink lips sending sparks throughout your body. The hazed look in his dark eyes likely mirrored the one in yours— you were getting desperate, revelling in the way he stared at your tits.

"Please, Matty," you murmured, begging for something, anything.

His sinister chuckle made your senses twitch and tingle. "Please what? What do you want, doll?"

"You," you said thoughtlessly, reaching your hands up to grasp on to his shirt.

"I'm all yours," he whispered, his hand trailing down to the inside of your shorts and panties. When he finally made contact with your slick entrance, your hips bucked up, grateful to have finally received some amount of stimulation. "You're so wet for me."

You hummed as he began tracing circles on your clit, forcing out a moaned, "Only for you."

He applied more pressure, making you grasp on to the bedsheets for dear life, unable to physically comprehend the magic feel of his calloused fingertips. The smirk on his face returned as he watched you writhe beneath him, and you felt your peak approaching faster than you had imagined was possible. Everything about it felt so right, so perfect, so erotic.

"You gonna come for me, angel?" he asked, his eyes locked on to yours.

You nodded.

"Then come."

And just as you felt your muscles begin to tighten and the pleasure begin to climax, the moment was cut short.

***

You were in bed, that much was still the same, but there was no sign of a Slytherin descendant anywhere in your vicinity, and your tits were not out in the open, being enclosed within your large pyjama shirt. You groaned, feeling the pool of wetness between your legs, but being unable to do anything about it due to your shared dormitory situation. Fuck, Mattheo wasn't even your real boyfriend, and you had just had a godly wet dream about him that lit a match in your soul.

How could you face him after picturing him in such an intimate situation? How could you pretend like you were okay with the surface-level falseness of your façade? He was your doom's day: you could feel it. You should never have agreed to a fake relationship, and remained begrudgingly within your outdated reputation.

Reluctantly, you peeled the covers off of your sweating body, and made your way to the showers.

***

Avoiding him was just as impossible as being around him. For one, you couldn't risk people questioning the stability or realness of your relationship. For two, the second you entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he was beckoning you over to where his friends were. And you couldn't very well ignore him when he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

"Hey, doll," he greeted you, pecking your cheek in the process. The very action made the flame burn brighter.

"Hi," you all but squeaked, focusing your attention on taking some waffles.

"We were just discussing the next quidditch game."

"It's a guaranteed win for Slytherin," Zabini smirked, knowing full well that the team that they would be playing against was your house's.

You scrunched up your nose, "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Are you not even gonna wear my jumper during the game?" Mattheo asked, sending yet another sparking bolt straight through your veins. You could feel your body heating up just by being in his presence.

"Against any other house I would, but I have to draw the line somewhere," you said, hoping your voice sounded completely normal and not at all like you craved his naked form. Unfortunately, the appeal of wearing a clothing item that would have his scent woven into its fabric was not helping your case.

"Pity," he grumbled.

Thankfully, Zabini challenging your opinion that Slytherin wasn't guaranteed to win led to a wonderfully distracting argument with the rest of the Slytherin boys. Not only was it a distraction, but it also made you feel as if they saw you as an equal, not just as a muggle-born, but in age and lack of innocence as well. It was a stupid notion, but it was the kind of treatment that you had desired for so long.

"I can't stand this quidditch talk any longer," Pansy finally said, having remained quiet for the majority of the conversation, "Y/N, wanna get away from the men?"

"Please," you murmured, grateful to escape the intoxicating presence of Mattheo.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Pansy shook her head as she stood up, "Anywhere but here. The girls' toilets if it means getting away from you all."

You giggled, going to stand up. You felt Mattheo's hand grasp your wrist, giving way to tingly sensations reminiscent of last night's dream.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course," you nearly stuttered, "We have defence against the dark arts."

He nodded, letting go of your wrist, before saying to Pansy, "Don't keep her too long."

"Calm down, lover boy," she retorted, linking arms with you as you began to walk off.

The last thing you heard from the Slytherin boys was Berkshire saying to Mattheo, "You're pussy-whipped, mate."

Oh, how you wished he was.

***

"I don't know how you managed to lock down prince of the fuckboys Mattheo," Pansy spoke as you both entered the girls' toilets, "And I do see the way he looks at you-"

"The way he looks at me?"

She nodded, "Like you're the only girl in the room— but, please be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

You knew that it was too late for that, as you had caught feelings in a fake relationship, and it was killing you inside that you couldn't tell anyone about it. All you could do was agree with Pansy. "Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it."

"Of course, we're friends," Pansy smiled, "And I love Mattheo dearly as a friend, but I know his history when it comes to romance and sex."

"People change," you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

"That they do," she agreed, "But just be sure of Mattheo's change before you fall madly in love with him."

Somehow you feared it was too late for that.

***

During defence against the dark arts— a theory lesson, unfortunately— you found your seat next to Mattheo as you let Pansy's words mull over you. The anxious pondering that you were in too deep caused you to start nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It was an action that did not go unnoticed by Mattheo, who furrowed his eyebrows at your behaviour. Gently, he placed his hand on your thigh and watched as you froze up at the contact.

Because, little did he know, the simple act of a touch so close to your core sent tingling flashbacks of your dream of him flooding through your veins. Your skin became ablaze with desire, and long gone was the obsessive overthinking about what Pansy had said to you. You sucked in a shallow breath, gripping your quill tightly as you glanced towards Mattheo who was now looking at you with thrice the concern than he was earlier.

"You okay?" he whispered.

You gulped and nodded, but it was clear that he didn't believe you. He squeezed your thigh gently, and you swore that your brain nearly short-circuited— yet you didn't want to push his hand off. This moment was so far removed from the fake external image of your relationship that you temporarily forgot all of your concerns. No one could see where his hand was: it served no purpose towards your reputation as a couple.

Merlin knows you would never be able to recall the content of that lesson.

***

One breezy autumnal afternoon and you were walking down the hallway, hand in hand with Mattheo and giggling about this and that. You had finally pushed Pansy's warning to the very back of your mind, and allowed yourself to almost fully immerse yourself in the moment with your so-called boyfriend. The interlocked nature of your hands felt natural as you paid no mind to bystanders.

That was, until, the unmistakable word of mudblood passed through your ears from the direction of a seventh year Slytherin, who evidently disapproved of your newfound association with the house. It was annoying, really, how your ears always tuned into that word no matter how distracted you were. You paused in your movements and stared at him: you were no longer timid, nor a push-over. Mattheo looked confusedly at you and where you were looking.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" the seventh year sneered at you, and before you could even say anything, Mattheo's hand had let go of yours.

And he had barrelled right into the boy, throwing merciless punches as his face went stone cold. "Do you wanna say that again, hm?" he spat, landing another solid hit, "Don't ever fucking talk about my girlfriend like that."

You stared in shock at the brawl, feeling a whole wave of mixed emotions— Mattheo was defending you, and by God did he look fucking hot doing it. But, also, you really should break up the fight before he committed manslaughter.

"Mattheo," you said softly, but he didn't hear you, so you said louder and more sternly, "Mattheo."

His movements ceased and he resorted to staring down at the boy who now groaned in pain, covered in blood and already darkening bruises.

"This was a warning," he said carefully, "Next time I won't stop."

You shook your head, grabbing his bicep to pull him off the boy for good and dragging him away. It was lucky there hadn't been a professor around, but they would probably still find out one way or another and Mattheo would get punished. For now, however, he was yours to deal with.

"I can fight my own battles," you bit off, but there wasn't any real malice in your tone.

"I know," he said simply.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Thank you, though, for defending me."

"Of course. No one belittles my girl."

Your heart flipped— there was nobody around, there was no reason for him to say that. Deciding to focus your attention in order to ignore the thumping of your heart, you analysed his hands. "We need to get you cleaned up."

"It's just a little blood," he shrugged.

"A little is still too much. C'mon."

You dragged him to the abandoned girls' toilets, where Moaning Myrtle resided, and ran some toilet paper (which had probably been there for decades) under the tap. As you began delicately wiping down the injuries, Mattheo watched you with intrigue, admiring your attention to detail. Little did he know, you were simply trying to stop yourself from replaying the sexiest image you had ever scene in your life inside your head. You felt as if you were about to burst into flames.

Once you were finally done, you chucked the toilet paper into a toilet and re-emerged from the cubicle, making eye contact with the man leaning against the sinks. Moaning Myrtle seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Which was a good thing, because the tension in the air was thick— thicker than blood. You bit your lip as Mattheo's eyes raked down your body and drank you in. Under his gaze, you felt purely animalistic: beauty didn't matter, intelligence didn't matter... all that mattered was skin on skin and bodies becoming one. But, when it became clear no one was going to make a move, you said, "Pansy warned me about you."

"In what way?" he smirked.

"That I shouldn't get in too deep with the prince of fuckboys until I'm sure you've changed."

"And do you think I've changed?"

"What does it matter? We're not actually together."

A flash of hurt coursed through Mattheo at the reminder, but he remained stoic and said, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

You stared at him blankly.

"Do you think I've changed?" he repeated.

You said nothing.

"Because I think I've changed," he stepped closer to you, "So, I'll ask you one more time, do you think I've changed?"

"Yes," you replied feebly.

"My friends think I've changed," he continued, "They think I'm pussy-whipped."

You felt bold for the briefest moment, and asked, "Are you?"

He shrugged, leaning his face down until it was inches from yours, "I don't know yet. Guess we'll have to find out."

And then his lips were on yours in a passionate frenzy. None of those pecks he had given you in greeting and goodbye: no, this was a real kiss, one that had the fire in your heart dancing erratically. You pulled away, breathless, to see that Mattheo was looking at you with hazy dark eyes.

"Was that real?" you asked.

"Well, it happened, didn't it?"

You shook your head, "I mean, was it real?"

A smirk tugged on his lips, "No one was here to see, sweetheart."

And that was all the confirmation you needed to kiss him again, sliding your tongue along his lips as he grabbed your ass, squeezing and groaning. You felt electric, alive— transcendent. His mouth moved from your lips, to along your jaw, to your neck. He sucked and licked in a way that had you letting out a gasp, melting under his touch.

"You're my nicotine," he mumbled, slipping a hand under your skirt and pushing you back against the wall.

You moaned as his fingers glided over your clit.

"You like that, doll?"

Helplessly, you nodded, your legs buckling as he applied more pressure and more vigour.

"Mhm, that's my girl," he murmured, bringing you quicker to your release than you had ever been able to manage yourself.

"Fuck, Matty, I'm gonna come," you gasped out, hips bucking up as you leaned against the tiled wall.

He chuckled as you rode out your high, the slickness of your pussy creating a squelching sound throughout the acoustics of the massive vacant toilets.

"I hate it when my friends call me that," he muttered, pulling his fingers out from under your skirt.

Your ears heated up even more— if that was possible— and you quickly rushed out a, "Sorry."

"Don't be," he kissed your lips softly, "I like it when you say it."

Your lips curved into a shy smile.

"Do you mind if we deal with a certain problem?" he asked, gesturing to the tent in his trousers that had more slick leaking from you at the sight of.

"Of course," you said slyly, a new wave of confidence rushing over you. Slowly, you walked around him and sauntered over to the sinks, pulling your tights and panties down as you leaned forward and lifted up your skirt.

"Fuck," you heard him curse, "You really have changed."

And then he was behind you, as suggested by the sound of a zipper so close to you, and the fact you could see him in the mirror. You watched as he pulled out his dick, which was thick and long, making your mouth water as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, not sure if he could take any answer but 'yes'.

You bobbed your head, "Fuck me, Matty."

"As you wish, doll." And then he was inside you, filling you to the brim and making you feel as if you were finally whole.

"Fuck," you gasped, clutching the edge of the sink as he began thrusting, your eyes tightly shut.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, making eye contact with him in the looking glass. Sweat was gathered on his brow, and his hands were tightly on your hips— you felt so close to him, in such a real and authentic way that had your soul burning.

One of his hands moved, retreating out of your view, but you knew exactly where it went when you felt a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He rubbed circles that had you seeing stars, your moans and curses pushing Mattheo close to the edge along with the pure ecstasy of how you felt around him. He didn't think he had ever been so vocal during sex before, but with you, everything felt brand new. Finally, Mattheo felt like he belonged somewhere, felt like he was nothing like his father— but he had no place in his thoughts at that moment. Instead, he focused on you and the clothed curves of your body, until he was about to explode.

"Can I come inside you?" he panted.

In a sex haze, you moaned, "Yes."

And then his release hit, the throbbing of his dick pushing you to your second orgasm as his movements became sloppy. Eventually, once your highs had been ridden through, he stopped moving, the only sounds remaining being the ones of heavy breathing. When he had pulled out, and you had both cleaned up and done up your clothes, you gave him a teasing smile.

"Are we real now?"

He chuckled, "This was never fake. Not to me."

"Well, then, boyfriend," you smirked, "Better scurry on and get me a Plan B potion."

He pressed a kiss to your lips, "Yes, ma'am."

And he took your hand in his.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 10/04/2024 —> 25/04/2024 published; 25/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Bump P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Velaryon (Pregnant Wife) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2957

Warning - childbirth / gore / horror elements

Jacaerys goes out with Daemon for the afternoon, the two go out and climb the jagged and impressive cliffs and valleys of the hot volcanic island, all to fetch a dragon egg for him and Y/n's baby. The two chatted and had some real conversations, the likes of which he hadn't really ever, had as stepson and stepdad. However, when they returned to the castle a sweet bright blue Dragon Egg selected a maid and rushed down the hall towards them,

"Prince Jacaerys!" The maid yelled, "Prince Jacaerys!"

Jacaerys' head turns sharply confused as to why this maid was running to them, "Yes, what is it?"

"it's Y/n -" the maid gasps,

Jacaerys' stomach drops to his feet at these words, but he forces himself to remain calm. "What has happened to my wife?" he demanded an answer,

"She has begun her labours Prince Jacaerys," The maid said,

Jacaerys' heart skips a beat as if he suddenly cannot breathe. He forces himself to remain calm, even if he feels like punching the wall, or throwing up, or any number of other things. "How long ago did this begin?"

"A meer our after you left," the maid said.

Jacaerys feels his heart drop at this news, suddenly feeling a deep sense of shame that he had been gone so long in this crucial time. If something had gone wrong... He shakes the thought out of his head and forces himself to remain calm. "Who has been with her, this whole time?"

"the maester. And maids. And the queen" The maid explained

Jacaerys nods and begins racing through the halls as quickly as he can, He keeps walking with Daemon and the maid, trying his best to hold a serious face and not let his tears flood. Y/n was in good hands, but he still desired to be there and see their son being born. His heart still races within his chest, however, flooded with adrenaline from the situation.

finally, they reach his and Y/n's chambers both the maid and daemon rush inside without a second thought but for a moment Jacaerys stops in the doorway, the sound of muted screams from within the chambers causing his heart to race even quicker. He grips his hands, nervous to step inside the chambers. He knows he should enter, but the thought of it terrifies him. He has to go in. He has to be there, for his wife. He steps inside.

Their bed is crowded with maids, the maester, his mother with Daemon at her side all of them arguing and debating the methods to be used. But all of it is mere background noise as all Jacaerys can focus on is his wife.

Y/n sits with her back against the headboard her knees on the bed so she's almost crouching on it, her sky blue nightie around her drenched in blood and sweat, her hair a matted sweaty mess, her eyes full of tears, her mouth hung open to scream, her hands ball up her nightie clawing at her own thighs in her agony. The sounds she made were enough to chill his very soul, they reminded him of the cries in violent pain that a dragon screams out when hurt and she seemed just as vicious and dangerous

"Where is my husband!" She screams,

Jacaerys cannot believe what he is seeing. He runs towards his wife's side, and stares at her with a mix of horror and concern. He cannot help but notice the blood, the sweat, in the state she is in. His first reaction is to reach out for her, to comfort his love, hold her, comfort her, to hold her close. But... her pain is immense, and her cries of agony are almost violent. Jacaerys feels like he is watching her being tortured. Jacaerys feels as if this statement cuts him deeper than any sword. " I... I'm here, my love..."

she grabbed him by the hand her grip tight and yet weak at the same time proving her exhaustion. "Jace... They wouldn't tell me where you were, they wouldn't find you, they wouldn't let me see you... I was so worried something might have happened to you" she cried hysterically

Jacaerys' heart was struck a blow. She had been concerned for his well-being. After the hours and hours she had been through, she was still thinking of him, his well-being. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at her words. He squeezes her hand tightly. "I am here now, my love. Nothing could stop me. I am okay, do not worry about me. I am so glad to be with you now..."

"I ask one thing of you, my love"

Jacaerys looks into her eyes, kissing her hand and meeting her gaze nervously. "Anything."

"get. These. People. Out! Of! Our chambers!"

"Are you sure? All of them know more than we do."

"NOW!" she screamed, 

Jacaerys nods instantly. He would do anything to ensure his wife's comfort, and to see her pain end as quickly as possible, "Everyone out. Leave my wife to me,"

"Jacaerys-" His mother began,

"Now. She wants you gone just go." He demanded, 

the room clears of everyone but Y/n and jacaerys, which calms her slightly she kneels on the bed still gripping her thighs as she gasps

Jacaerys takes a seat next to her on the bed. He reaches out and places his hands on her shoulders, stroking her carefully. “Calm yourself, my love. This too shall pass. Do not worry about the pain. What you are experiencing is a natural part of life, my sweet. There is no need to fear it…” Jace smiles, hoping to comfort her, even though he knew well how difficult childbirth could be. He was only trying to ease her mind.

"I am so frightened... I'm am so so scared" she muttered between her tears

Jacaerys rubs her back gently, trying to comfort her. “I promise you, my love, nothing bad will happen to you. I have never seen a stronger woman than you, and I know, deep in my heart, that you can do this. You are going to be a mother.” Jace smiles, and squeezes her hands. Nothing bad will happen. “I am here, for you.”

she grabs his shirt as another contraction forces it's way through her and she screams loudly her voice echoing off the stone walls of Dragonstone

Jacaerys grips her hands, squeezing them tightly as he watches her suffer this pain. He fights the urge to call someone in, as he knew that more people would be of no help at all. But... he feels so useless, watching her writhe in pain. He wants to help. He wants it to stop. He wants his son to be born, too, but he hates seeing Y/n suffer like this.

"Jace... It's happening. It's happening the baby!" She screamed tears flooding down her face as she clawed as her thighs and her body shaking as she goes though this intense pain she screams louder then anything he has ever heard cursing and swearing at the child inside her as it forces her body to conform. She grabs Jace by the hair and puts her forehead to his as she cries and screams violently

Jacaerys grits his teeth, trying his best to remain strong for his wife. He squeezes her hands, tries to calm her, but cannot find the words. Her screams fill him with fear and worry. He doesn't want her to suffer like this, but he has no way to take away the pain. It is worse, by far, than anything he could have ever imagined for her with childbirth. He is almost helpless as he pulls her head down against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tight.

she screamed and leaned back clawing her thighs as she pulls up her nightie and as she does he sees the strange both beautiful and deeply horrifying sight of the birth of his child. Jace had only briefly seen the birth of his younger brothers but this moment was never something he had witnessed, he knew of course how children were born of course but he supposed in his mind he always imagined just crying, screaming and then being handed his beautiful baby, his idea was this was a beautiful and magical moment and in some ways it was but... It was also the sight of his wife convulsing with pain, screaming, clawing her thighs to the point of blood, as the blood and fluid covered head of Thier child ripped her open

Jacaerys stares as his wife experiences the worst pain he could imagine. A beautiful moment, indeed, but one filled with pain and a mess of blood and fluids. His face contorts as he watches this process, the screams of his lover filling his ears. He is filled with fear, seeing the woman he loves in so much pain. Jace looks away, but cannot help but look back at the process. It is almost like a horrific wreck, where you must watch. A mixture of beauty and horror, something that has no equal.

she is unable to stop now even if her body is tired even if she can't handle any more her body is physically unable to stop now, leaving her to cry hysterically and scream out a long scream that took her whole breath, she demanded Jace to take a blanket which he did as it was sudden. The baby's head appeared then it's neck, then it's shoulders and once past the shoulders the baby dropped out like an apple from a tree have quickly picked up the baby in the blanket wrapping it up,

Jace’s entire body is filled with shock and relief as he sees his child born, wrapped in the blanket. A surge of relief washes over him, and he breathes a sigh of gratitude to every god above, thankful that his wife and his son are both well. He stares, amazed, at the sight of the child. It is a mixture of awe and fear, the tiny life which he brought forth with Y/n. The baby moves in the blanket, still covered in fluid and blood. Jacaerys takes a step back, almost mesmerized and overwhelmed by emotions.

the baby whined and coughed bringing the first little cry

Jacaerys cannot help but smile at the first noises from the baby. The sounds are weak and hoarse at first, but begin to get stronger with every moment. He wants nothing more in that moment than to hold the tiny life that he helped bring to this world in his arms. However, he is too fearful to go any closer towards the child, as the fluid and blood which still cover him are not an inviting sight. He is unsure now which emotion is winning inside him: fear or relief.

Y/n doesn't even have time to react to their child as the process of the after birth strikes her but luckily given the agony she just went through this pain felt to her like nothing more then a stomach cramp and luckily goes off without a hitch, the after birth is quickly delivered and she flops on her back on the bed covered in her own blood and sweat as she holds her stomach "Is he okay..."

Jacaerys lets out a sigh as the afterbirth is delivered, The sounds of the baby’s cries grow stronger with each moment. Jacaerys turns to face his wife, still nervous by the sight of her covered in blood and bodily fluids, but he forces himself to focus on the positive. He cannot hold back a smile, one filled with relief and gratitude, “Yes, my love. He is okay. He is beautiful, and I cannot even describe how much I love his cry.” Jacaerys tries to look past the blood on her body, instead focusing on her face and looking for a smile. He wants to see her joy, her happiness at having given birth, to see that she is okay. His hands clench into fists as he looks at her, wanting so badly to hold her close but not wanting to make things worse by coming too near.

she smiled and opened her arms wanting to hold their baby

Jacaerys smiles in response, and watches as his wife reaches out her limbs towards their child. His heart flutters, as he realizes how much she is already loving the baby. He walks closer, and gently pulls the blanket away so she can hold him in her arms. Jacaerys also can finally take a good look at the small life he helped to create, his son, Lucaerys, which is now lying safely in Y/n’s arms.

Y/n holds the baby against her bare skin, the widest smile on her lips, she cares so life the blood and fluids that coat the both of them she kisses the head of baby Lucaerys and lets a tear slip as he cries

Jacaerys smiles wide at the scene of his wife with his baby in her arms. The tears of joy, the gentle, protective kisses she is placing on Lucaerys’ head... it is almost enough to make him cry as well. As the baby cries, Jacaarys comes forward again, and wraps his hands around Y/n, holding her tightly against him once more, wanting to comfort her, protect her, and comfort himself. He wants to be there for her, and their son. He wants to comfort them both.

"he's perfect. So very perfect." She muttered "our little boy, I praise all the gods in this universe for him"

“He's beautiful, Y/n. So beautiful.” Jace smiles softly as the baby cries. “Our little Lucaerys... he even has your eyes, I think.” Jace strokes his hands over her hair slightly, taking her in and realizing that he too was filled with that same sense of relief from seeing that she was well.

"he's perfect. So very perfect." She muttered "our little boy, I praise all the gods in this universe for him"

He wraps his arms around her again, pulling her and the baby into him, embracing his family. She smiled and laid her head on Jaces shoulder as she made sure they could both cradle baby Luke. Jace smiled, enjoying the sweet feeling of all three of them sharing that special, beautiful moment. He held her close, caressed her head once more, then looked down at their baby boy. The boy had calmed somewhat. He was still crying, but not as frantic as before. Jacaerys felt the most content he had ever been in his life, as he sat there, holding his wife and his son against himself.

The two share kisses and sweet words cooing over their baby for hours Y/n rests on the bed and jacaerys paces the room bouncing baby Luke in his arms as he once saw his father do to his brother's

Jace bounces the baby, trying his best to soothe him. He speaks kindly to him, uses a voice that he hopes would be calming and sweet. He whispers to him with words of encouragement, hoping that the child would be soothed. Eventually, his efforts pay off as the baby grows quieter. The baby stops crying, and only his light breathing could now be heard. Jace feels a rush of relief wash over him as he continues to bounce and hum to the baby, not wanting to put him back into Y/n's arms just yet.

"ohh ‘he's’ tired. I feel somewhat offended" Y/n chuckled as she noticed Luke fell asleep in jaces arms

Jace laughs at her comment, amused at her reaction. “The audacity of him,” He joked and He continues to hold Luke, not wanting to give him up just yet. There is something about holding your own child that is so precious and special. Jace knows he must return him to Y/n soon, but he cannot help but enjoy this time with little Lucaerys. He continues to hum songs quietly to the baby, holding him close to his chest.

"you have to put him in his crib sometime, Jace" she teased him

Jace rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Yes, my love. I suppose that is true. Though... I enjoy holding him. I have not let him go at all since he arrived. I wish I could carry him everywhere.” Jace laughed, holding him close.

"umm my boys, my sweet boys" she cooed at them enjoying the sight of her husband and son together, "come on, let me have a cuddle" she cooed opening her arms

Jace’s face flushes red slightly, as he knows he cannot deny that request. He looks to Lucaerys for a moment, then smiles and hands him over to Y/n. He loves to see her with their son.

"ohh hello little man, yes hello. Your daddy is giving you all the attention today. I get the feeling he shall spoil you" she cooed to baby Luke

Jace chuckles, watching her love their baby with such intensity. He knows she is going to provide him with the most love and attention, and he could not ask for a more perfect mother for his child. Jace takes a seat next to her, watching her with the baby, as she speaks. He does not want to break her focus from the child, but he also wants to be close to them both.

"You were so much trouble. So much trouble for such a little boy" she chuckled "worth it though. A thousand times over"

Jace laughed, his chest filling with warmth when he heard that. What was this feeling within him? Pure joy, mixed with the pride of being a father to such a beautiful child. He was proud of Y/n, for what she had gone through, for how well she handled it all. All of his previous fears had evaporated. “He was worth everything in this world, my love.”

This was not a moment to be afraid, but rather to celebrate the miracle of birth.

[perfectlyoongi]

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who dreamed of you every day. it wasn't necessary for Jungkook to know you to love you; in his dreams, when the stars blessed his unconscious thoughts, Jungkook met you daily, sharing a feeling as old as the stars themselves, feeling immediately at home when in your presence. “i only had to look at you to realize that you are the one i’m looking for; the way you warm my heart is too familiar for you to be a mere stranger.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who counted the days until he met you. in love with love, Jungkook only tried to find you as quickly as possible, knowing that, from the moment he saw you, he would know that you were the one he should love — every day of Jungkook only made sense because it became one day closer to meeting you. “it’s close, i feel it. inside me, inside my heart, there is a force that pulls me closer to you, pulls me closer to my happiness.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who swore that the colors became more vibrant the day he met you. and, oh, when he met you, all the greens became more intense, the blues more tender, the reds more fiery; meeting you was like opening a coloring book, where your soul was the color of the rainbow and painted every nook and cranny of Jungkook's life. “it seems like i only started to see the world as it really is when you appeared in my life. it was as if everything before was just grey and white and you brought with you fireworks to color me.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who loved you from day one. already in his dreams, Jungkook knew he would love instantly; your essence had been part of his for decades; your soul was molded from the same cosmic dust as his; you yourself were the magic that came out of Jungkook's core; it was obvious that Jungkook would love you right away — you were destined to love each other. “i only had to look at you once to realize that it was you i had to stay with; didn't you feel your heart calling me? mine wouldn't stop screaming your name. it just wanted to go home.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who always knew that his place was by your side. as if written in the stars, your love story was as old as the universe itself, your souls existing long before the first star died; and you were made of the same dust, carved from the same star, shaped by the same gods — you and Jungkook were always together long before you were human; and Jungkook only felt complete next to you, next to his half. “we are born from the same flame that we consume right now; our hearts hold within them the fire that created us and brought us together in this life and in others.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who believed in past lives and lived stories. it was your connection, the way your and Jungkook's complicity was too ancestral to be from this time; the way you and Jungkook understood each other, loved each other, came from past times, accompanying all of your lives and growing with the passing of time and eras “since i met you, i realized that i had already met you in another life. you feel like home, you soothe my soul as if you already knew every particle of it. you and i, we come from past times.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who would love you even if the universe didn't allow it. and if the gods were more cruel, if the universe itself gave up on your love, Jungkook swore to you that he wouldn't stop loving you; with you being his heavenly half, you being the only person he was destined to love, Jungkook swore that this love would not wither, only expand throughout the cosmos to show the universe that it would not win. “it doesn’t matter if destiny doesn’t want it. it doesn't matter if the gods want to steal us. i promise you that my love for you will paint all the stars and constellations and forever remind them of their mistake of separating us.”

[frantic-fiction]

Hi!! I love your astarion stories so much, you are such a talented writer!

I have a bit of a weird request for an 18+.

I've heard theories that if a vampire like astarion drinks enough human blood that there's a slight chance he's able to get someone pregnant 👀 ...

I'm wondering if you could do a smut like something along the lines of astarion having a huge breeding kink, so he and Tav are experimenting with him drinking maybe more than he should of her but it's worth it if they have a chance at having a kid or something? Basically just asking for a smut about astarion having a breeding kink🥺

thank you so much for all you do!! Once again like I said you are so talented, and if you do decide to do something with this I'd love to be in the tag list.

Okay first off, this comment is everything thank you. You are just too nice I can't 🥰....and well I had so much fun writing this so I hope you like it lovely!

I Want 18+

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Breeding kink, fingering, dry humping, slight daddy kink if you squint, Astarion being lovesick, slight dom/sub maybe? idk

Word Count: 2.5k of pure filth

Mastarlist

It started with a chapter in an obnoxiously repetitive book about vampires and their spawns. You had gifted it to him with a poorly concealed giggle on your lips. 

Most of the content was either incorrect or exaggerated, and Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the foolishness of it all. He was ready to throw the damned thing into the fireplace when his eye drifted over a passage.

Dhampirs: Creatures born from the union of a human and a vampire. The conception is incredibly rare, but the likelihood increases if the vampire indulges in a significant amount of the human's blood prior to sex. 

Now, it can't seem to leave Astarion's mind. The idea of you being pregnant, being able to watch your stomach swell with his child, witnessing your breast grow and your hips fill out. How sensitive would you get as your pregnancy progresses? Would you crave him more than you do now? These thoughts alone have him throbbing in his trousers.

However, what sealed Astarion's fate was seeing you with Gale's newborn baby girl. The way love filled your heart the moment your eyes landed on that little girl sleeping soundly in the wizard's arms. How delicate you cradle the young one's head as soon as she's in your grasp, softly cooing down at the little bundle, stroking the smooth pink skin of her cheek. 

And when you turned to him with that sweet smile that never fails to make Astarion weak in the knees, asking if he wishes to hold baby Dekarios. How could he say no? 

Astarion never cared for fatherhood, but the moment that baby girl was in his arms, opening her eyes with that dopey, toothless smile, he was done for. And when she grabbed his pointer finger with her tiny hand, gripping it lightly with all her strength. Astarion knew he wouldn't stop trying until you were carrying his child.

* 

You were finishing up the dishes, hips swaying to a tune only you could hear. The summer heat had you in shorts that fell just below the swell of your rear and a sheer top that revealed your lack of a bra. It's been a week since the visit to the Dekarios, and Astarion can no longer hold back the desires that burn deep in his body. 

Astarion approaches silently, a predator stalking his prey. You rub your nose on your shoulder, trying to scratch an itch while your hands are covered in suds, groaning in annoyance when that fails to help. 

Gods, you're adorable. 

You're so carefree and relaxed, looking so soft, warm, and delicate. All open to his wandering hands and his greedy mouth. Astarion can already feel himself stiffen just from the knowledge of what he has in store for you.

A startled scream leaves your lips as Astarion's cold arms snake around your waist and pulls you against his hard chest. It does make him feel bad for a moment, but the delicate sigh that follows as he kisses up your jaw is enough to make up for it. 

"Hello, my love." Astarion hums against your skin. His nimble fingers trail over your stomach, teasing the valley of your breast, taking careful movements to ghost his thumb over your sensitive nipple. A gasp leaves your sinful mouth, and you arch your back.

"H-hey," you breathe, and when Astarion grinds his tented pants against your backsides, you let out the most delicious whimper. "What are you up to, Star?" 

His only response is a breathy laugh as he turns you around and pulls you into a kiss. Signing into his mouth, you hook your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. It's messy, with soapy hands and mingling tongues, but it leaves you breathless. Astarion teases your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away to bite your jaw playfully, relishing the surprised yelp you give him. 

Astarion quickly lifts you onto the countertop, where he can nestle between your plush thighs. Your wandering hands move up to tangle into his curls and give a tug. Astarion obliges your silent request and resumes the kiss, licking deeply into your mouth. He's lost in the subtle floral scent of your shampoo and the taste of your lips.

You pull him away with your chest, heaving in deep pants. "Astarion, what are you--" He smirks when you trail off into a breathy moan as his teeth nibble at your ear.

"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.

"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into a moan when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit. 

Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need. He begins to move his finger lightly back and forth against the fabric. It's not enough to give you what you want, but it has you whining for more.

"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion moves his thumb a bit rougher against your clit.

"What -fuck- what interesting information are we talking about?" 

Astarion doesn't respond immediately, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while he continues to rub tight circles against your sensitive bud. You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. Astarion cups the back of your neck with his spare hand and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape. 

"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name. 

Your fingernails dig into his forearm, clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll your hips in time with his fingers, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words. 

"Half-vampires, my sweet."

You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard without his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.

"Does that excite you, darling?" 

"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."

"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine." 

Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter, only enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt. 

"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."

"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-" 

"Come for me, my sweet girl."

You cry out his name, and just as your orgasm rakes through your body, Astarion sinks his teeth into your neck and begins his feed. You're lost to the pleasure, your walls spasming around his fingers. He helps you ride out your release, never unlatching from your neck.

 Astarion takes large, greedy gulps of your blood, far more than his usual fill. The book said a significant amount of blood was needed, leaving much to be interpreted. Astarion only stopped when you nudged him on the shoulder. 

When he pulls away, you wipe the small trickle of blood that dribbles down Astarion's chin. Delicately he grabs your hand and sucks your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

"Astarion, let's go to our room. I think we have some things to explore," you say with a tempting smile.

Astarion is carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word, his lips locked onto yours. 

You're giggling against Astarion's mouth as he kicks the door open and tosses you carelessly on the bed. You bounce on the mattress and watch the vampire hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt. 

Tossing the fabric away, Astarion looks at you and unbuckles his trousers. The sight alone nearly has him cumming in his pants. There you are, lounging with that devious gaze, biting your lip and groping your breast like the tease you are.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Astarion breathe, practically ripping the rest of his clothes from his body. "Take your clothes off for me."

You do as you're told and quickly strip until you're bare and spread out like a feast just for him. Astarion now kneels naked at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, giving a gentle kiss to your calf. 

"I've thought about nothing else but getting you pregnant since I read that foolish book," Astarion says, kissing his way up your leg. "Watching your stomach grow round with our child," He kisses and licks the soft flesh of your abdomen. 

"Astarion," you sigh.

"To get the pleasure of taking care of you. Rubbing your swollen feet, and massage your aching back, even fetching every one of the disgusting cravings your pregnancy gives you."

"Says the blood drinker." You scoff, glaring down at Astarion between the valley of your breasts. 

Astarion ignores you and bites at your chest playfully. "You would make such a lovely mother, darling. Please, love, let me make you a mother." 

Astarion's words are laced with a tone of desperation. He might have been embarrassed if not for the need that consumes him: a need to see you nod at him with your beautiful smile, a need to hear you say you want this just as much as him, that you want to start a family with him, however unlikely it might be.

And then you nod your head and frantically pull him up into a kiss, and Astarion feels like he's alive once again.

"Gods, yes." You mumble, slinging your legs around him and pulling him down against your body.

Astarion licks into your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. You're just as desperate, grinding up against him, seeking friction, and letting out little whines against his mouth. Wandering hands trails down his back and between your two bodies, and Astarion lets out a pathetic moan when you grip his leaking cock, giving him a few teasing pumps. 

"You're going to be such a good daddy, Astarion." You whisper sinfully in his ears as he fucks your hand. "Going to take good care of me and our little one."

"Hells, you wicked thing." Astarion grunts. 

You run your thumb over the head, giving him a playful squeeze. Hot, open-mouth kisses are littered across his chest and up his neck until your mouth is right against his ear. Your warm breath floats over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Astarion love, I need you to put a baby into me." 

Astarion nods, seemingly breathless, as you line him up at your weeping cunt. He presses in, and the room fills with debauched moans. You grab his neck, slamming your mouths back together, tongues back into their messy dance. Saliva coats each other's lips, but neither can get enough. Astarion grunts deep in his chest when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

"Oh my love, I'm going to fuck you until you're leaking with my cum. Filled to the brim until you can't take anymore." Astarion grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, and you cry at the change in angle. "Then tomorrow I'll do the same, and the day after. Until we know for sure our baby is growing in your womb."

"Yes, Star. Wanna baby." You slur against him, pressing warm kisses wherever your lips can touch. 

Astarion was fucking you as if this was his life goal. As if nothing else matters but the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting against your walls, pressing deep against your cervix. Seeing all of you with your cheek flushed and your chest rising and falling with rapid pants of breath, knees against your chest. Your eyes lidded, gazed over in pleasure, and your hair a mess against the white of the pillow. It was the sexiest display Astarion has ever had the pleasure to see.

"You're so beautiful. Gods, I love you." 

"Love you," You try to say but choke on a moan. Your hands wander down his back and across his chest, seeming not to know where you want to touch.

Astarion is close but determined to feel you come around him before finding his release. Thankfully, he won't need to wait long because you're on the edge. So close. He can tell just by the way your gummy walls spasm around his cock, and the way your hips are jutting up against each of his thrusts.

"I know you're close, darling. Can you come for me? I want to feel you squeeze me while I fill you."

And with those sinful words, it was almost like you were waiting for his permission because as soon as they left his mouth, you were falling over the precipice. You clench down on him, a pleasured sob breaking free of your throat. The feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over, and he quickly found his release spilling his seed deep into your abused cunt.

The room stills, the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. Astarion lets your legs fall to the side and maneuvers both of your bodies so that he's lying on his back and you're resting on top of him, head on his chest. Astarion rubs your back and kisses your hairline as you catch your breath. You trace lines across his skin, lost in thought at what had happened.

"So should I expect a little vampling running around soon?" you ask, looking up at him.

Astarion huffs a small laugh through his nose and kisses your forehead. "Human and Vampire reproduction is unlikely but not impossible," Astarion explains without the rush of arousal clogging both of your minds. "But I think we've done many remarkable things together, wouldn't you agree, my love."

You smile brightly and kiss his chest. "Yes, we do have a knack for doing the impossible. And I'm very, very eager to keep trying." 

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Sixteen

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

2.8K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Warnings: blood, injury

"I'm fine, Dad," she said, squeezing her eyes shut as she ignored the pain ripping through her arm. "I'm gonna stay with Lando for a little bit." 

Her dad released a sigh as Lando wrapped a bandage around the bite mark in her arm. "Honey, what's really going on?" 

She looked up, eyes meeting Oscar's. His pupils were blown wide, nostrils flaring. His control was slipping, and he had to get out of there. But he couldn't get to the door without passing her. The smell of her blood filled Lando's room. 

"I promise, Dad, everything is fine." She put the phone down after that, a low moan escaping her lips. 

Everything had been fine that morning. She had been in her house, collecting her jewellery from her dresser. It was a wonder nothing had been stolen. She stuffed it into her bag, including the necklace Oscar had given her just a few weeks before, and headed out. 

Wolves surrounded her house. She looked at all of them, but none of them had Lando's familiar brown fur. "Carlos?" She asked as she looked at the closest wolf, the one that seemed to be in charge. 

It it was Carlos, he wouldn't have lunged at her. If it was Carlos, he wouldn't have sank his teeth into her arm. A scream left her lips as she went down, trying with all of her might to get the wolf away from her. 

And then she heard it, wolf against wolf. Familiar brown fur came running towards her. He pushed the other wolf away and stood over her, protectively. 

It was a conversation, one that she wasn't privy to, one she couldn't understand. But she looked around. Werewolves fighting Werewolves and Vampires joining in. But the vampires had stopped, nostrils flaring as they turned towards her. 

Blood. It ran down her arm, staining the grass around her. Lando's pack dropped the other wolves (who immediately ran, their pack leader chasing after them), to concentrate on Mark and the rest of the Vampires. They wouldn't hurt her, not while the pack was there. 

"Fuck, baby," Lando whispered as he changed back. He didn't care that he was as naked as the day he was born. He picked her up and started running. 

The rational part of the Vampires brain seemed to return. They didn't chase after her, no matter how sweet her blood smelled, but a few of them (Charles and Yuki) ran to the patch of grass that held little droplets of blood. 

But then they stopped. "Oscar." Charles's voice was strained. Oscar had first claim to it. But, the moment that blood touched his lips, his control would slip. 

"I need to make sure she's okay," he choked out and took off, running for the pack house. 

Half of the pack had already returned by the time he got there. Alex gave a warning growl and Oscar nodded. He knew. 

When Carlos gave the order to let him pass, Alex stepped to the side. He let Oscar in, eyes following him as he ran towards, Lando's bedroom. He could do this. He could be around blood. He had control. 

But, as soon as she put the phone down, his time was up. He tried to get past, tried to get to the door, but the smell had him in its clutches. His eyes glowed as he took a step forward. 

Suddenly, his back his the wall. "Oscar," Lando whispered before he kissed him. 

Oscar's teeth poked Lando's lip, but he didn't mind. He pushed Oscar towards the door, getting him out of the room. "We love you, Osc," he said and shut the door in his face. 

The air was cleaner in the hallway. The scent of her blood no longer lingered in his nostrils. His head was clearer; he could finally think. 

He met Carlos's eye. From the bottom of the stairs, Carlos stared at him. "We're gonna talk about what just happened," he said. "Would you like to join us?"

Oscar followed him into the Pack House kitchen. Everybody had that same dishevelled look, Oscar was sure the Vampires looked the same. He took an unoccupied seat. "This what you do after every bad thing that happens? Sit around and have a mother's meeting?" 

"Osc!" Lando's voice sounded out from behind him. Oscar sucked in a breath and... 

Blood. Still lingering in the air. He stood so quickly as he looked at the two of them approaching him. He stood so quickly, backing away from them, his eyes blown wide. 

"Oscar," she said softly and stepped towards him. 

His chest was heaving as his back touched the wall. It wouldn't take much to rip off her bandage and see what was underneath. 

Suddenly, she was touching his face. "You're not gonna hurt me," she whispered, and his lip trembled. Her wound was so close to him, so close to his mouth. He grasped her wrist, touch gentle, and brought the wound up to his nose, breathing in the scent of her blood. 

But then, he stopped. His head hung as the tension left his body. "I should go," he said and dropped her wrist. "I'm... it's not safe right now." He pushed her hair behind her ear. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Her nod was reluctant, but Oscar was gone seconds later. The door swinging was the only indication he was ever there. 

"He was right," Carlos muttered from behind them. "It's not safe."

***

Home. 

A place where the sun kissed her skin every time she stepped out of the house. Her mum was there, her friends were there. The apartment she'd been missing while sleeping in her childhood bedroom was there. 

But they wouldn't be there. Lando and Oscar would be here. 

After meeting with the pack, Lando look her to the place her family had been staying. Anything left in her house was all things she didn't need. 

Her things were already packed up, so any goodbyes were quick. 

Lando stood in the doorway as she grabbed her bag. "What's going on?" Her dad asked, following her up to the spare room she had been sharing with Jack. 

He looked down the stairs, at Lando in the doorway. "Oh no, you're not staying at his." 

She released an exasperated sigh as she looked at Toto. "First off, I'm an adult and I can stay with whoever I want. Second, I'm going home, dad." 

Toto sucked in a breath. He knew this day was coming. But ever since she'd started seeing Lando and Oscar, he had just hoped it would prolong her stay. The day she was leaving had come around far too quickly. "Did something happen?" 

She shrugged her shoulders. Yeah, something did happen, but she couldn't tell her dad that. "It just... doesn't feel right that we're all staying at Uncle Fred's when I can go home." 

Toto looked down at Lando. "What about them?" 

She wrapped her arms around him. "I've got it." 

That was as much goodbye as they got. She threw her bag over her shoulder and marched down the stairs. 

Lando placed his hand on her back. "I'll follow you to the edge of town," he said lowly as he opened the driver's door of her car. 

She threw her bags into the back. "Tell Oscar I'm sorry," she mumbled as she threw her arms around him. 

Lando held her chin. "He knows it's for the best, baby," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft against her own, and she ran her tongue along the bottom of his slightly pointed teeth. "We're gonna miss you, though." 

She sniffled as she leaned against her car. "Promise me you'll call."

"I promise." He dropped one last kiss to her lips. 

As she climbed into her car, Lando changed. He became a wolf, running after her car. She watched him in her mirrors until she left town. 

At the first rest stop, she stopped her car and cried. She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the screen through tear filled eyes. 

One message from lando, nothing from Oscar. She put her phone away and got back on the road. 

***

It had been a week. A week since she had gotten home, a week since she'd left her apartment. Time was moving too fast and too slow all at once.

Several times her mother had tried to check on her. She'd used her spare key to get in, but the door was bolted. 

This time, her mother's knocking was insistent. "Honey, let me in!" She shouted. No response from her daughter. A huff left her lips. She muttered something under her breath and the bolts slid back, the door unlocking itself. Picking up the bag of groceries, she let herself inside. 

Her daughter, huddled on the couch beneath too many blankets, didn't notice when she walked into the apartment. She pulled a face, the stale air putting a sour taste in her mouth. 

"You should go have a shower." 

Her daughter jumped, eyes wide as she turned to face her. "How the fuck did you get in here?" She asked quickly, pressing her hand to her chest. 

Her mother shrugged. "You weren't answering your phone." Completely dodging the question. "Now, go and shower. I'll make you something to eat."

Reluctantly, she crawled out from beneath her blankets. Her feet dragged as she trudged her way to the bathroom and climbed into her shower. 

The wound on her arm wouldn't scar. It hadn't healed properly yet, but it wouldn't scar. Part of her wished that it would, a permanent reminder of them. But it wasn't Lando's teeth marks in her skin. 

Her shower was longer than she wanted it to be. She dragged herself out from under the hot steam of water and wrapped her towel around her body. 

She sat there for a moment, shivering with her wet hair pressed against her back. Just once before she had showered with Lando and Oscar. Oscar was still cold, even under the stream of the hot water and they'd both laughed at him. 

Releasing a breath, she got changed back into her pyjamas and walked out into the living room. 

Her mother watched her as she placed the fillings into her sandwich. "I know you miss those boys," she said and placed the sandwich in front of her. "But you need to actually start taking care of herself." 

She took a reluctant bite of her sandwich, but she didn't have much of an appetite. Her mother watched her, unable to offer her words of comfort. 

But then, she stiffened up. "What on earth?" She whispered and looked at her daughter. They didn't get those around here. "Honey, why is there a vampire and a werewolf outside of your door?" 

She'd never moved so fast before. Her lunch was left discarded as she raced to the front door and pulled it open. 

Sure enough, there they both. Both of her boys looked at her, almost as if they couldn't believe that they had the right apartment. 

They were here. They were really outside of her apartment. Nobody quite knew what to say. Nobody said anything. Nobody had to. 

Oscar stepped forward. He took her into his arms and pulled her closer. Her gasp was cut off when he kissed her, holding her so damn tight. Almost as if he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go. 

When he pulled away, his forehead was against her own. "Please don't leave without saying goodbye," he whispered, voice trembling. 

She reached up and pushed her fingers through his hair. "Never again, Osc," she whispered and looked past him, looking at Lando. 

Oscar's hands were still on her waist as she stepped away from him and over to Lando. "Missed you too, Lan," she mumbled and pressed her head against his chest. 

"We just couldn't stay away," he replied and kissed the top of her head.

But then, it clicked. She turned on her heel, turned to stare at her mother. "Mum," she said, taking both of their hands and pulling them into her apartment. "How did you know they were outside? And how do you know what they are?" 

Her mother shrugged her shoulders. "A witch knows these things," she said casually, as if it was a normal remark. 

Suddenly, Lando was in front of her. "You're a witch?" He asked quickly, and her mother nodded. 

"This explains so much," Oscar whispered, pulling her close. "Why your blood smells so... sweet." 

"Shut up for a second," she muttered and squeezed his hand, assuring him that she loved him. 

Lando turned back to her mother. "If you're a witch, does that mean you can do a spell to protect our territories?" He asked, voice desperate. 

Her mother looked at her. She'd kept magic hidden from her daughter for so long, and here she was.  She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I can do a spell to protect your territories." 

"Prove it."

It was said so quickly, she almost missed it. But she looked at her daughter, holding the hand of her vampire boyfriend while her werewolf boyfriend was standing protectively in front of her. She sucked in a breath and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. 

Before their eyes, it became a banana. "Holy shit," her daughter breathed. "You really are a witch." 

She swallowed and nodded. "Just like my mother and my grandmother. And, with training you could be too." 

Immediately, she shook her head. "No," she said, and Oscar squeezed her hand. "I don't want to. I don't want to be a witch."

"That's okay," her mother said. "You boys can sleep on the sofa. Tomorrow, we'll head back to town." 

'Sure,' both boys thought. 'We'll sleep on the sofa.'

But they did sleep on the sofa. An opportunity to join her in her bed was thwarted when her mother joined her, the two of them topping and tailing. But Lando and Oscar were fine, they had each other. 

The four of them set off early the next morning. She climbed into the back seat of Landos car, he and Oscar in the front. "How are you feeling?" Oscar asked, turning back to face her. 

She shrugged her shoulders. "My mum is a witch," she mumbled. "My mum is a witch and she never told me."

Oscar reached back and placed his hand on her knee. 

"You know," Lando started, staring into his rear view mirror. "If your mum does this spell, you can come back home. We can get a little place out in the woods and maybe a dog or something."

Suddenly, she and Oscar were laughing. "We already have a dog," he said and patted Lando's knee. "You're cute." 

They pulled in outside of the pack house, her mother pulling in behind them. "Sit tight," she said and grabbed a book from the passenger seat. "There's just some things I need to grab from town." 

"Do you know where you're going?" Lando asked, climbing out of the car. 

She waved them off. "I lived in this town for thirty years. I'm pretty sure I still know my way around town." 

The wait wasn't long. The three of them sat in the pack house, enjoying each other. Teeth and tongues clashed as the boys held her between them. 

But then her mother returned. They watched from the window as she sat up her candles and burnt her herbs. The rest of the pack was inside, watching as they were. Along with her herbs she had something from each boy, hair she had taken the boys from the night before. 

A spell, one to keep other werewolves and Vampires of their territories. She blew out her candles and stretched. There was something about this town, something that made her feel unwelcome. Maybe it was her ex husband, just outside of the woods. 

Her daughter walked out of the pack house, the werewolf and vampire behind her. "I take it you'll be staying," she said and her daughter gave a nod. 

"Just for the week," she said and Lando nudged her forward. She wrapped her arms around her mother. "Maybe a little longer." 

"Just be safe." 

As her mum climbed back into the car, she was lead back into the pack house. The three of them were silent on their walk back up to Lando's bedroom. Any conversation was to be private. 

Lando shut the door and the three of them were on each other. "It's finally safe," Oscar said as he sat on the bed and pulled her on top of him. "You can finally come home."

Home. 

It was her little apartment in her sunny hometown. 

And then it became her childhood bedroom. 

And now it was wherever Lando and Oscar were. 

FIN

Permanent Taglist: @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@darleneslane

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

@goldenharrysworld

@andydrysdalerogers

@llando4norris

@evlkking

@lilymurphy03

@hollie911

@customsbyjcg-blog

@honethatty12

@nikfigueiredo

@not-nyasa

@nurse-floyd

Series Taglist: @cmleitora

@booksandflowrs

@evie-119

@annispamz

@neilakk

@ginsengi

@lighttsoutlewis

@charleslecler

@eviethetheatrefreak

@rbv3rstappen

@vicurious28

@val-writes

@lovecarsgoingvroom

@minmira95

@forza-dolce

@styl1shl1v

[imagoofygoober]

@brokeaesthetic request 1: Tangerine and reader are new parents and the stress is making them both slowly lose it.They end up arguing but stop when the baby wakes up and both apologize.

Hi! I absolutely love both of the requests you sent me.Ill be working on the other one soon after I'm finished with this one.

p.s.: I've only seen bullet train about three times so- as I said in my last fic,sorry if its bad.

dad! Tangerine x mom! wife!reader

Prompt: hurt/comfort,slight angst?,a bit fluffy at the end

Warnings:arguing,mentions of childbirth and insecurities,implied sexual relationship,a hint of smut at the end if you squint,cursing (duh,its Tangerine).

Summary: Having a baby was the best thing that could happen to you and Tangerine.Well,not at first.

You loved being a mom and Tangerine loved being a dad.

You loved being his and he loved being yours.

But it was hard.Only seven months into your daughters,Cherry,life and the both of you haven't had a proper nights sleep in weeks and you haven't had sex since before she was born.

Not that you even wanted to anyway.After having Cherry,it had left you feeling gross,sore and insecure.You felt loose,heavy,fat and Tangerine barely even changed.The only difference was that his abs were less defined and he was more agitated.You thought he wouldn't want you anymore because of your weight gain and inability to lose it.

You loved being a mom,it was an amazing experience that not everyone could have.So why wasn't she happy like all the moms in the movies? Why was she always mad and this close to snapping?

Little did you know,Tangerine felt the same way.He felt as if he had let himself go.That you didn't want him anymore because you refused to change in front of him,always hiding your body from him.Buying clothes that are four times bigger than you usually wear and never wearing anything he's bought besides your wedding ring.That made him upset and that only served to make him more irritated.

_

After a particularly long day of Cherry's non-stop screaming and crying no matter what either of you did,you finally managed to get her to go to sleep.You gently lay her down in her crib before leaving the nursery,gently closing the door behind you.

When you make it to the bedroom,Tangerine was already there,sitting on the edge of the bed.He glances up as he hears the door open,letting out an exasperated sigh before looking at the wall again,his jaw set.

You hear the sigh and your brow furrows. "We need to talk." you say,a certain bite in your tone as you place your hands on your hips.

"Not this again." he mutters,rolling her eyes as he lets his head fall into his hands,his fingers running through his hair.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you ask,a small pit of anger forming in your gut as you watch him roll his eyes.

He rubs his forehead frustratedly before looking up at you. "It means that I don't want t'fuckin talk about it."

"Oh,yeah! I forgot! You never want to talk about anything." you say sarcastically as you cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs,his fingers gripping the sheets. "What's that supposed t'mean?"

"It means that you never want to talk about whats wrong." you say.

He doesn't say anything for a moment,just staring at you with a tense jaw and narrowed eyes,not wanting to admit that you were right.He didn't like it when you wanted him to tell you what was wrong.In fact,he hated it.It wasn't something he was used to even after years of being together.

You let out a soft exasperated huff,about to say something else before cutting yourself off when you hear Cherry's cries from the nursery,both of their expressions slowly softening as their anger diminishes.

"I'm sorry." you both say at the same time.The both of you smile slightly before hearing the infants cries grow louder.

"I'll get her.." Tangerine says uncharacteristicly soft as he stands from the bed.

But before he leaves,he pulls you into a tight hug,burying his nose in your hair as he whispers softly. "I love you.."

"I love you too.." you reply just as softly before he pulls away and leaves the room to go take care of Cherry.

_

When he gets back,lets just say you won't be able to walk very good the next day. ;)

[youunravelme]

it's nice to have a friend

author's note: this is a little all over the place, but i saw a tiktok edit of seven by taylor swfit and then thought to myself, what if i ignore all my wips and wrote childhood friends to lovers with a hint of childhood trauma? and this was born. and if the timeline isn't perfect with reality, oh well. i'm but a human girl. also!! if you have ever experienced or currently experiencing abuse, please know that it was never your fault. you don't deserve to be treated that way.

pairing: mat barzal x reader

summary: wherever mat went, you were never too far behind or the one where you are childhood besties

warnings: cursing (as always), mentions of parental abuse and alcholism, tumultuous childhood, drinking, mentions of sex

there was a saying that floated around in your elementary, middle, and high school days, surrounding you like a warm oversized cardigan.

wherever mat went, you were never too far behind.

the saying could also be flipped, the two of you stuck to each other like glue.

mat, despite not being one for fights, had a bad habit of running his mouth whenever you were concerned. in fourth grade, he used newly learned vocabulary words to berate a girl who made fun of your beat up shoes and nearly got detention for it.

and you had a nasty habit of squaring up with anyone who looked at mat wrong, even if they towered over you.

your friendship worked well because of it.

age eight

you could remember summer days swimming in the pool with mat and liana, laughing as you and mat teamed up against his little sister until his mother scolded the two of you when she started crying.

but there was always a darkness that sat in the corners of your memories like fingerprints that had damaged an old photograph.

you didn't have to try to remember your parents' screaming and yelling at each other, just like you didn't have to try to recall the smell of alcohol on your father's breath. it didn't take any effort to remember the way your hands shook when you locked your room at night and climbed out of a second story window to go to mat's.

you could feel the splinters digging into your fingertips as you climbed the trellis up to his window. you could still feel the way your stomach dropped when you slipped and fell halfway up in the pouring rain, nearly breaking your arm in the process. you could still hear nadia come out and usher you inside moments before mat's eight year old feet came pattering down the stairs.

he didn't even give you time to explain, he just wrapped you up in a hug.

it took you that long to understand it was never raining, it was just tears.

the next week, you found yourselves at the park laying on your backs in the grass.

"what would you do if a genie gave you one wish?" mat asked out of the blue.

the summer sun kept you warm as the breeze kept sweeping in and blowing strands of hair into your face.

"get far away from here."

"would you bring me?" mat asked.

you turned your head to look at him only to find him already staring. "i wouldn't go anywhere without you." and you meant every word, spoke them with as much conviction as an eight year old could have.

mat reached out and squeezed your hand in his own.

"what would you wish for?"

he shrugged. "to be bigger."

you furrowed your brow. "why bigger?"

"so i could protect you better."

age nine

at nine, you and mat were playing cards in your room when the front door slammed. it was like you were on autopilot. of all the times that had happened, mat was never home with you. immediately, you were locking your door and shoving things in your backpack, pulling mat towards the window and climbing out as quickly as you could. the two of you ran to your bikes and biked all the way to an empty field where you collapsed in the tall grass and cried.

mat immediately brought you into his arms, hushing you and running his hand down your braids.

"what if--" he started stopped abruptly to clear his throat. "what if you stayed with me and liana and mom and dad? we could get bunk beds and a night light, if you want, and you wouldn't have to lock the door."

you just sobbed harder into his chest and shook your head.

it's not that simple, you wanted to tell him. but i wish it was.

age thirteen

you never moved in with mat, never got to get the bunk beds, but by middle school, your mom moved the two of you out of your old house. it was then that he started packing two lunches, one for you and another for himself.

things hadn't changed much since leaving your dad in that shitty house full of demons. you still spent most of your time at mat's house (your mom was working). still spent your saturdays going to his tournaments and games. you still cheered him on and let him cheat off your homework on sunday nights.

things shifted though, regardless if you wanted them to change or not. time, you found, never gave a shit about your opinion, thoughts, or desires.

because it felt like just yesterday, you were riding your bikes down the street, racing each other back home.

now, you were helping mat draft msn messages to a girl he had a crush on in your biology class. there was an uncomfortable sensation in your stomach that was comparable to the time you got food poisoning, but you couldn't place a reason for it.

you could paint the pink on his cheeks as the girl replied.

and you would've given anything to be the reason for it.

maybe it was silly, a small crush for the sheer convenience of it all. maybe it was the fact that he'd saved you so many times from the darkness that always seemed to follow you. maybe it was because he was a tether for you, pulling you back when you went too far in your head.

so when he laughed at something she said (which wasn't even really funny), you wanted to go back to the times the two of you would cloud gaze in the middle of the day just so you wouldn't have to be home.

age fifteen

you knew mat was a kind person, knew he was handsome and a good hockey player, that was never in question.

you just didn't realize other girls realized it too.

mat always walked in front of you in the hallways because he could make way through the crowds in ways you couldn't. (he grew like a weed over the summer and while you hated how you couldn't reach things when he held them above his head, you appreciated the way crowds moved out of the way for him).

you were used to him being in front, his grip light on your wrist as he tugged you behind him. you weren't used to walking behind his new girlfriend, chloe, who had the honor of walking beside him.

mat used to tell you how much it irritated him that people would take up so much space in the hallway and make it impossible to move around them.

but there you were, an awkward moving triangle of your best friend, his girlfriend, and you trailing pathetically behind.

chloe was cool. she never felt threatened by your friendship with mat, which might've hurt your feelings if you were delusional. you knew you had no chance with mat, so you'd take him in whatever form you could get him.

lately, that looked like spending time with liana in the stands at mat's tournaments. you would both do your homework before dissolving into gossip sessions while you braided her hair.

chloe even showed up for some games, smiling and cheering as he played. at one game, he scored and came up and tapped the glass in front of you, pointing at you and smiling.

they broke up two weeks later.

age sixteen

you openly cried when mat left for seattle. you were used to times when mat had hockey camps and would be gone for two weeks, a month at a time. but he would be gone indefinitely now.

and leading up to the day he was leaving, you thought it would be harder on you, considering mat hadn't shown anything but excitement. but when it came time for him to leave, he wouldn't let you go.

both of your moms had to pry you apart with promises that he would call and text as soon as he got to seattle.

and he did.

he hadn't even gotten into his new home when he was facetiming you.

you did your best to smile as he showed you around his new place, but your eyes were watering still. he was indefinitely two and a half hours away from you.

"you okay?" he asked when you stopped responding.

you gave him your best smile, but knew he wouldn't buy it. "just miss you is all."

he nodded, eyes going blank for a second before you saw water appear in them. mat wasn't as emotional as you were, and he for sure wasn't as teary eyed as he used to be when you still lived with your dad, but his eyes were watering all the same. "let's just treat it like summer camp," he said. "i'll be back before you know it, and if you need something, you can always call me."

you had no intentions of calling him with your problems, but then your dad showed up at your house screaming and beating the door and calling for your mother while she was at work. the doors were locked, he had no way in, and the police were on the way, but your hands were still shaking.

you couldn't run to his house to hug him anymore.

so you called him sobbing.

he picked up on the second ring.

he was lounging in bed, playing call of duty or something like it. "hey--" he cut himself off and paused his game, jumping out of bed. "what's wrong?"

"my dad," you sobbed.

mat was back in coquitlam in three hours, holding you tight to his chest and rocking you back and forth. you were openly weeping into his shirt, clinging to him. you weren't gonna let him go, and mat wasn't willing to give you up either.

you and your mom spent the night at the barzal's, with her taking the guest room while nadia brought a twin mattress into mat's room under the pretense that you would sleep on it.

you didn't.

everyone knew that you got into mat's queen sized bed and clung to him all night long.

just like everyone pretended that mat wouldn't have to leave in two days to go back to seattle.

just like you pretended like you wouldn't absolutely shatter on impact the second he left your sight.

age nineteen

when mat was drafted to the islanders, you stopped breathing. sure, it was dramatic, but you only moved into vancouver for school.

mat was moving across the fucking continent.

but he came back to seattle, and for a moment, the world was right again.

until he went to new york full time.

and the full weight of his absence hit you like a damn eighteen wheeler.

you'd watch him on the tv, when you used to watch him live in much smaller stands. you used to use puff paint to make t-shirts with his name on it, now they were selling his jersey in the arena he played in.

he didn't pick up the phone as much as he used to. he would respond to your texts days later until you stopped texting him altogether.

you should've seen it coming, especially when you saw him hanging out with instagram models and going out to bars. were you really expecting him to sit at home and wait for you to call him with a panic attack?

you had to get a grip.

so you did.

you threw yourself into your studies, pretending you didn't know his game schedule or stats. and when a cute boy named thomas came along and took interest, you allowed him to get to know you better.

you told him you grew up in coquitlam, that you were an only child, and your favorite school subject growing up was english.

(you never told him that your favorite color was the shade of mat's eyes, that you haven't spoken to your dad since the night your mom left him, or that every night, you fall asleep to career highlights of the best friend you haven't spoken to in months).

you learned he was a business major, something that should've been a red flag, but you were so focused on proving to yourself that you could be loved, that you overlooked it.

you went on dates, had sex, made plans for the future, met each other's families.

but he never met the barzals, despite the fact that you could drive to their house blindfolded.

no, they felt like a precious secret. the world could have number 13, they could have the calder memorial trophy winner, but you would not allow them to have the little sister whose hair you braided, the mother who brought you inside after you wrecked her trellis, the father who covered your scraped knees with bandaids and neosporin when your biological one was drunk at 2pm.

you might have lost mat to the awful curse called distance, but you would not lose his family.

you couldn't afford to lose them too.

now thomas, you lost a month after you turned twenty when you found him balls deep in your freshman roommate.

you went back to your apartment and cried, because it hurt, but mainly because you realized how alone you were. you had no one to call other than your mom or liana. but liana didn't even know about thomas, and your mom was dating a new guy now.

your thumb hovered over mat's contact for five minutes before you locked your phone and just went to bed.

age twenty-three

you were single for a whole year before you met dawson. his brown eyes and salt and pepper hair captivated you.

you were hooked, despite the seven year age gap.

he gave you the number to a good psychologist to help you work through your past and was willing to listen to you talk about it or sit in silence when your therapy session was emotionally exhausting.

he remembered your favorite flowers and brought a bouquet of them to your college graduation and kissed you in front of your mom and the barzals (minus mat, but that was a given at that point).

and on your twenty-third birthday, he proposed.

you said yes while actively trying to forget the dreams you and mat had when you were six.

you were building a fort in his bedroom with thumbtacks and blankets and sheets you'd stolen from around his house. when the project was complete, the two of you found yourselves laying in it, staring up at the blanket canopy shoddily held up by thumbtacks pushed into the wall.

"do you wanna get married?" mat had asked randomly.

"only if i get to marry you," you replied.

mat smiled a toothy grin, it was the only time you remembered him having imperfect teeth, given that he'd just lost his two front teeth. "i thought the same thing!"

and it was the most honest you had ever been. though, that wasn't a strange concept, most people were the most honest when they were either children or drunk. and considering you stayed far away from alcohol (guided by the anxiety in your stomach and the advice of your therapist), your childhood memories held the most truth.

despite not having seen him in years, you still thought of him often. you tried to see if you could remember the sound of his laugh without looking up an interview. you tried to recall the way his hair felt through your fingers.

but you couldn't.

it was crazy how much he meant to you as a child, how you still remembered the order in which he ate his breakfast, but you hadn't spoken to him in years.

you found yourself sobbing at the kitchen table one night as you poured over who to invite to the wedding. liana was a bridesmaid, mike and nadia had to be invited.

but what about mat?

you felt sick to your stomach at not inviting him. when you were in high school, when you'd gotten a grip on reality, you believed he'd walk you down the aisle in lieu of your piece of shit father.

but you hadn't spoken to him in so long.

though you couldn't imagine which would suck worse, not inviting him, or mat rejecting the invitation.

that was how dawson found you, sobbing over photos from your childhood that you wouldn't let him see. and when you tried to talk to him about it, he suggested talking to your therapist.

he broke off the engagement two weeks later. he said he didn't feel "the spark" anymore.

age twenty-four

you'd been out of college for two years now and all you had to show for it was debt and a stupid piece of paper. you were working in a coffee shop ten minutes from your mom's house and wishing you could've gotten out of coquitlam like mat did.

maybe this was your cursed existence, going to the grocery store wondering if you were going to ever run into your father again.

you'd just gotten off your shift at the coffee shop when you stopped by your local grocery store to pick some things up for dinner. it was supposed to be a normal day, but you turned the corner out of an aisle and damn near ran into someone.

"sorry, my bad--"

you looked up and suddenly the earth stopped in its rotation. you hadn't seen in him years but you'd know him blind.

his hands were around your elbows, keeping you upright. his touch almost burned you. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like putting on jeans you loved and realizing they don't fit anymore.

you pulled away, ducked your head, and started walking the opposite direction without another word.

but you should've known he would follow you, like a moth to a flame. or maybe that wasn't the right analogy, you were used to being the bug while mat was the light of your life.

but he followed you like there was a string attached to your wrists and he wasn't used to you pulling in an opposite direction.

he managed to catch up to you in the self care aisle right in front of the menstrual products. any other man you'd known would've shied away from standing in front of the tampons and pads as you deliberated which products to get, but mat's eyes wouldn't even leave your face.

you should've known he was going to come back eventually. you'd avoided seeing him in the offseason pretty well considering you were off doing internships and working out of town in the summer.

but now you were stuck in a dead end job with no passion for anything anymore, feeling more alone than you had ever felt before.

and because nature or god or the universe hated you, naturally, that was when mat showed back up.

when you had nothing to show for the years you didn't speak.

you could see the wheels turning in mat's head as he tried to think of something to say. it was an interesting turn of events that simultaneously sent an ache straight through your heart. when you were kids, he never hesitated to say exactly what was on his mind. now, he was deliberating.

"you wanna come over for dinner?" he asked. "mom's making tomato soup and grilled cheese."

you wished you could've denied him, it would've been smarter in the long run. mathew michael paul barzal could get you to do anything, and you hated that even after all those years, he still could.

you found yourself sitting at his old kitchen table surrounded by his family, dipping your grilled cheese into the soup like you were six years old again.

except the difference now was you were laughing with liana, sitting next to liana, instead of mat.

you'd occasionally meet his eyes from across the table, but it wasn't the same.

when you were kids, you sat next to each other at every opportunity. when you were kids, mat pretended to steal food off your plate. when you were kids, you knew everything about each other.

but you were adults now. and he was effectively a stranger you knew too much about.

after dinner, everyone scattered. you tried to leave, but mat caught up with you.

"what're you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"working," you replied.

he nodded and looked around. "can i see you?"

you wanted so badly to say no, that you were busy, but as much as you wanted to pretend that he didn't, mat knew you better than anyone else, even if he had been absent for five years.

you ended up going for a walk in the park the next day, deciding that getting dinner wasn't worth the headache of mat getting recognized.

his hands were shoved in his pockets with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. if you were brave enough to look over, you could still see his eyes taking glances at you.

"how's your mom?" mat asked, immediately jumping into topics you'd planned on ignoring.

you shrugged. "fine."

he nodded and scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. "how have you been?"

"fine." you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. you didn't mean to be cold, you meant it even less when you looked over and saw mat desperate for connection with you again.

in the end, you could never really deny him anything he wanted.

"life sucks right now," you admitted. "feel like i've wasted my life away here."

mat nodded along. "didn't you say your genie wish would be to leave?"

"i think my words were to 'get far away from here.'"

"you know," he started. "new york is far from here."

you couldn't help yourself. you looked up at him and saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "are you being serious?"

he nodded. "as a heart attack."

could this be the moment? the moment your life suddenly comes back into color? things haven't felt right since mat left for new york, and maybe moving, being with him all the time, would fix whatever existential crisis you were currently having.

the two of you were packing up your childhood room a month later .

you were on a flight to new york city two days after that.

mat was bouncing on his toes when he picked you up from the airport, having come home a few days early to get his apartment set up.

"you have to meet tito," he said as soon as the both of you got in his car. "you'll get along just fine. my childhood best friend meeting my other best friend? things couldn't be more perfect!"

you smiled though you felt like dying inside. no wonder you two lost touch, you were too ashamed to message him and he was too busy befriending his entire hockey team.

the apartment itself was large. larger than you could've ever afforded, even in coquitlam. mat brought your bags to your room and gently placed them on the floor.

"do you need any help unpacking?" he asked.

maybe a bitter part of you wanted to say no, but you'd waited for this moment for years. you nodded and mat's face lit up like a christmas tree.

while he was putting your clothes away in the dresser, he told you about his team, about his career, and all that you missed. he tried to ask about your life, but you kept up the story that nothing much had happened to you. and for the most part, you weren't lying.

you hadn't spoken to your dad, you hadn't dated anyone seriously in the last year (you conveniently left out the failed engagement. you just got into town, and couldn't afford a plane ticket to fly back to coquitlam just to bail mat out of jail).

but mat was more than content to listen to your work stories from when you were working at the coffee shop. he asked questions along the way, and momentarily, it felt like everything was headed back to normal.

you shooed him out of the room so you could shower. it was kinda incredible how a nice apartment meant that his shower was better than any other one you'd ever had growing up. when you stepped out into the nicely updated bathroom and changed into some gym shorts and a t-shirt, you felt the full weight of your insecurities hit you all at once.

your mat lived down the road from you. he had a twin bed until he was fifteen when his mom could no longer ignore the way his ankles hung off the end. he had posters of sidney crosby hanging up on the walls of his bedroom.

but this mat had expensive bathrooms and egyptian cotton sheets. you didn't get to see it yet, but you were willing to bet he had state of the art kitchen appliances that he didn't fully understand how to use outside of making eggs.

you were fully ready to walk into the living room, where you heard mat clicking through what must've been streaming services (because he could afford all of them), and tell him moving here was a mistake. too much had changed, he didn't know you anymore.

but you walked out and saw blankets and sheets strung up, pinned to the walls with pillows on the floor.

almost on cue, mat's head popped out from the makeshift fort, a bright smile on his face. "i don't have bunk beds, but i thought this would be a nice alternative."

you could've cried. you almost did.

but you sat down on a pillow and watched a movie with him instead.

two months later

mat had introduced you to anthony the second week you lived in new york. anders and matt you met the next week. the rest of the team you met over the course of the two months you'd lived with mat so far. they were all nice, and you could see why mat was so enthusiastic about his job, his passion for the sport aside.

you met his "not-girlfriend" as tito called her the day before. ashley was nice enough, but clearly not in the same tax bracket as you, who had recently gotten a job working at an indie bookstore while you worked on grad school applications.

you pretended to be too busy to notice the ache in your chest when he held her hand, remembering chloe and the nasty sensation internally of insecurity bubble up. you weren't dumb enough to not know you were jealous, insecurity was a closer friend than mat was, you'd known her longer.

and if comparison was a sport, you'd be making more money than he was at this rate.

because if it wasn't the way ashley laughed, it was her smile, or her stomach, or the gap between her thighs.

or the fact that mat looked at her with something more than a savior complex.

you stupidly agreed to go out to a bar with him, ashley, and a few islanders that night. it was dumb, you knew that going in, but you were finally with mat again, why wouldn't you spend every free moment with him?

it turned out to be a mistake.

you were left sipping a diet coke by your lonesome while he was dancing with ashley. you knew you shouldn't have done it, it was a bad idea, but you found yourself at the bar asking for a shot of literally anything the bartender would give you.

but anthony slid into the seat next to you a beat later and fixed you with a knowing look. "where's your diet coke?" he asked.

your mouth dried up when the shot was placed in front of you. your heart was pounding and for a moment, it felt like you could've thrown up.

when you didn't respond, anthony nodded and stood up. "wanna go take a breather?" and he sounded so genuine that your eyes immediately welled up with tears as you nodded.

the two of you walked outside and stood in the cool air, letting the wind hit your wet cheeks.

you looked out onto the street while anthony texted on his phone. "do you want to go home?" he asked as soon as he slipped his cellphone back into his pocket.

you shrugged. "i don't know what i want."

that was a lie. you wanted to go back to a time where mat was just your best friend, before he was number 13 for the islanders, before he won the calder memorial trophy. you wanted your best friend, the one who raced you down the neighborhood streets on bikes, who drove three hours to see you when you had a panic attack.

you wanted a childhood that wasn't tainted with the darkness of your father's mistakes. you wanted to be able to go into a room and not immediately check if you could lock the door. you wanted to be able to fall asleep in a dark room without being deathly afraid.

mat was outside a second later, huffing and puffing like he'd just run a mile. his gaze was fixed on you almost immediately, while he ignored the way ashley hung off of him. "what's wrong?" he asked. he even went as far as to pry ashley off of his body so he could frame your face in his large hands.

in the corner of you eye, you saw anthony usher ashley back inside while you and mat had a staring contest. "what happened?"

you shook your head and tried to speak, but more tears spilled out. mat nodded and pursed his lips before grabbing your hand and walking you home.

he didn't say anything else until the front door shut behind you. you had no intentions of staying in the common area, you just wanted to curl up in bed and cry yourself to sleep out of shame and pity.

"what were you doing at the bar?" mat asked before you could go anywhere. "you still had diet coke in your glass."

your throat seized up at feeling caught, but you stood your ground.

"i didn't think you drank," he continued. "mainly because--"

"because my dad's an abusive alcholic? yeah, you don't need to tell me that, mat, i already know."

"so if you know that, why did tito see you order a shot from the bartender?"

you threw your hands up in the air and shrugged. "i don't know, mathew. why do you invite me to bars when you know i don't drink?" he didn't have an answer. "you don't get to shame me for considering having a drink when a bar is the only place i get to hang out with you during the season!"

"that's not--" but he cut himself off. "what're you talking about?"

"i hardly see you! why did i move across the continent if i have to go to a scary place just to spend time with you?"

"i--"

"i mean it's not fair, you left and now i have to pay the consequences of it--"

"i'm sorry, what?"

"you left--"

"i heard you. did you forget the part where you stopped contacting me?" you rolled your eyes to keep yourself from crying even more. "uh uh, don't do that. don't blame me without taking accountability for this friendship ending."

you blinked.

but mat wasn't done. "because i always called you back when i missed your calls. you were the one who stopped texting me."

"you were too busy!"

"i'm in the nhl! did you expect me to just be laying around my apartment all day? i have practices and meetings and games at weird times, but i always made sure to get back to you."

you said nothing, the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you kept them in. the verbal lashing from mat was enough, you didn't need to further embarrass yourself by crying too.

he kept going, yelling and waving his hands around, occasionally pacing and dragging his fingers through his unruly hair.

but you zoned out.

you could hear glass bottles rattling as your father came up the stairs. you sat on your bed, hoping to god he'd just keep walking. mat was out of town for a tournament, and you were grounded.

your dad stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at you. your heart was racing in your chest and you wanted nothing more than to text mat, but your mom had your phone. "what're you lookin' at?" he slurred.

it was only 1pm.

and your mom was still at work.

but he apparently didn't feel like bothering you because he turned into his bedroom and shut the door.

you could feel the air release from your lungs before you went back to reading your book.

but the peace never lasted long. thirty minutes later you could hear him yelling and screaming obscenities before he opened his door. you launched yourself out of bed and slammed your own door shut, quickly locking it with an efficiency you'd learned at a young age. the door handle rattled and you flinched backwards, nearly tripping over clothes on the floor.

but you weren't a stranger to this situation.

you opened the window and climbed out.

but he was ready for you this time because he was at the front door screaming at you as you rode away on your bike.

you didn't stop pedaling until you got to the park where you collapsed on the grass and cried.

something in your face must've changed, because mat stopped yelling and looked at you, really looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice much quieter than before. "where'd you go?"

you shook your head, tears falling down your face uncontrollably.

"don't do that," he said. "don't shut me out." mat took a step closer to you, but you immediately stepped backwards. he breathed your name, but something in his eyes shifted, like he could read your mind. "i'm not him," he whispered. "i'm not your dad, i'm not going to hurt you. you know me, you know i wouldn't do that."

"you left," was all you could say.

mat nodded. "i did, but i didn't leave you, okay? i would never leave you." he closed the distance between you and held your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the constant flow of water from the corners of your eyes.

"but--"

he shook his head. "no, you mean too much to me to leave you, okay? you're my best friend. if you had called me and needed me? i would've been there as soon as i could."

"you would've been too busy--"

he pulled back, a bit bewildered. "when have i ever been too busy for you?"

you held your tongue, knowing that it wasn't him per se.

"what is it?" he asked, his eyes searching your own. "what aren't you telling me?"

so you told him about how you hadn't talked to your dad, and even though you were thousands of miles away, you were still scared he'd find you and ruin your life even more. you told him about thomas, about how you thought he could be the thing that fixed you, but he cheated on you.

you told him about dawson, who was older and more mature. you told mat how dawson got you going to therapy which you thought was a good sign, until you realized he never actually wanted to talk about your bad days. he proposed, you said yes, and then he broke off the engagement when he saw you sobbing over invitations.

your eyes were too blurry to see the way mat's jaw clenched, but you could feel him pull his hands away.before you could even stop yourself, you stretched out for him, but he was just out of reach.

"mat, what," you weeped. "what's wrong?"

"you were engaged?" he mumbled. "you were engaged and didn't tell me?" you expected him to look mad, but the only thing reflected in those deep brown eyes was hurt.

"that's why he broke up with me, i was crying over childhood photos while trying to figure out if i should invite you even when we hadn't talked in years." you shrugged pathetically and gave mat a watery smile. "guess he thought it was too immature of me."

mat's hands were clenching and unclenching by his side, like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do with them.

"please don't hate me," you whispered. "i don't think i could handle it if you hated me." but he didn't say anything, mat just resulted to pacing the living room. "i think my dad fucked me up beyond repair." your eyes never left his profile. if he wouldn't look at you, that was fine, you'd continue to stare at him. "i think i'm too codependent and messed up for anyone to love me." mat's head snapped up at that comment.

"i mean," you continued. "i wasn't enough for my dad to get sober, i wasn't enough to not get cheated on, i wasn't enough for someone to marry me. maybe it's not them. maybe i'm the issue."

"no," he said immediately, shaking his head in the process, crossing the room until he could pull you into his chest. "no. that's not true."

"yes it is! my dad doesn't love anything more than alcohol--"

mat cut you off. "anyone would've been proud to have you as a daughter."

"thomas wanted my freshman roommate--"

"thomas was an idiot."

"dawson couldn't handle me when i wasn't happy--"

"fuck him too. he was thirty dating a college student."

"and you left and i--"

mat pulled you back far enough to look you in the face. "and if i could do it all over again, i'd take you with me." he pressed his forehead against yours. "here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna make a fort and watch the mighty ducks. and tomorrow, we're gonna find you the best therapist money can buy and set up an appointment because i don't like you talking about yourself this way." your stomach twisted at the idea of therapy, hesitant because of dawson-- "and i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me, okay?"

you nodded.

"now, i need to see you smile so i know we'll be alright." you gave him a watery smile right before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "there she is."

you held onto each other for another minute before reluctantly letting go to gather blankets and pillows.

four months later

you hadn't been able to make it to many of mat's games until tonight when they played the devils at home. you sat with sydney and grace and their kids.

earlier that night, you'd gone to your therapy session and cried your eyes out. after years of feeling like you weren't a human being worthy of love, you just started seeing value in just existing.

and mat was as supportive as ever. he gave you space after therapy sessions to process until you were ready to talk to him, if you wanted to. the two of you made plans to hang out at cafes and central park rather than at bars every weekend.

"look at your man go," grace nudged you with her elbow. "he's feeling good tonight."

"i'm sure it has everything to do with you being here," sydney commented. "i've never seen that man more in love than he is right now."

you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you shook your head. "he's my best friend."

"a best friend who loves you so much, he's willing to keep things platonic for your sake."

almost immediately, an insecure thought popped in your head, but you stopped it in its tracks, imagining the thought on a conveyor belt, moving down the belt until it was out of sight completely.

your shoulders relaxed.

you deserved to be loved, and it if was mat, great.

if not, you'd still have him as your best friend.

a buzzer sounded through the arena and a quick glance at the ice told you all you needed to know. mat was skating into a cluster of his teammates, smiling wide before pointing up at where he knew you were sitting.

grace and sydney jostled you around a little while fans, male and female alike, screamed at the idea of the mat barzal pointing at them.

when the game ended (5-4 with the islanders win), you followed sydney and grace down to the locker rooms. you met up with the other wags and smiled when they greeted you. some chatted and passed time while others rocked babies in their arms. you however were anxiously looking through your photos on your phone, specifically the album labeled mat that you'd had since you'd first gotten an iphone. you didn't glance up until you hear the sound of doors opening.

mat was the seventh person out, not that you were counting. he wore a bright smile when he saw you standing there and immediately crossed the distance between the two of you to wrap you in a huge hug.

"how was therapy?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "why do we always talk about me?"

"because i care." he lightly nudged your shoulder. "so how did it go?"

"it was good, actually," you remarked. "figured out and accepted that i deserve love."

if it was even possible, mat's smile got wider. "yeah you do."

"and maybe there are people waiting around for me to figure it out..." you trailed off before shyly meeting his gaze. and before you could stop yourself, before you ran out of courage, you stood on your tiptoes (like you've been doing since he hit his growth spurt in seventh grade) and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

you lingered for a moment before pulling away and loooking up at your bewildered best friend whose mouth was wide open.

"what?" you asked. "did i read that wrong? sydney and grace said--"

"that's all i get?" he asked. "i've waited for this since i was six years old and i don't even get the real thing?"

you furrowed your brow. "what're you talking about? six years old?"

but mat was leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. "six year old mat had the biggest crush on six year old you," he said.

"and what about twenty-four year old mat?"

he kissed you again. "head over heels for you."

age twenty-six

after a less than stellar playoff run, you and mat headed back to canada for a portion of the off season, mainly to visit family.

but it was also nice to get out of new york, even if it was just for a short period.

in hindsight, you should've known something was going to happen. your mother, nadia, and liana took you to get your nails done and to grab lunch while you were out shopping. but you were so caught up in how nice it was to be back home (words you never thought you'd ever say), you paid no attention to the lack of mat time.

so when you walked into the backyard of his parents' house and saw a giant projector screen with blankets and pillows strewn about to make yet another fort, you almost cried.

mat's head popped out from the middle with a smile on his face until he saw the tears in your eyes. "why're you crying baby? this is supposed to be happy!"

"i love you" was all you could blubber out.

mat laughed to himself, taking your hands in his own. "i love you too baby." he knelt down and the tears kept coming down your face. "ever since i was a kid, i thought i'd be the one walking you down the aisle to the man you'd marry because i never thought you'd be crazy enough to fall in love with me."

you scoffed. "i'm definitely the one batting out of my league here, mathew."

"don't talk about the love of my life that way," he said before continuing on. "we've gone through a lot together, and i couldn't imagine getting through life without you by my side." mat took a deep breath. "so tell me, do you wanna get married?" mat asked.

you nodded through your weeping. "only if i get to marry you," you smiled.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Colic

Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You develop colic

Magda returns to England after six weeks.

She would have stretched it longer but there were Champion's League fixtures starting up again and she needed to be there to keep the Chelsea girls in check.

So, after six weeks, it's just you and Pernille.

For the most part, you're a calm baby. You don't do much. You cry, you eat, you sleep. Sometimes, if you're feeling particularly active, you try to pull Pernille's fingers into your mouth and suck on them.

You're practically an angel baby...Though you're quite firmly attached to your Momma.

She can't set you down for a nap until you're fully asleep otherwise you'll cry and whine until you can see her again. She can't let other people hold you without being nearby otherwise you panic. There's not a moment that goes by where you don't want to be attached to her.

You're almost equally attached to Magda but it's still a pretty easy transition for you to lean fully into Pernille being your remaining caregiver.

It also means though, that with Magda returning to England, Pernille also returns to training. She's not ready to join the team just yet, not so soon after your birth so she's just gone back to light training.

For the first day back, she had wanted to be well rested but you seemed to have caught a case of colic so were crying for hours on end all night.

You're still whiney and tearful, rhythmically sucking on your dummy (one of the only things that Pernille can use to get you to stop sobbing) when she pulls up at the training centre.

The staff members suitably coo at you before Pernille escapes into the gym. It's mostly empty apart from the trainer that's working with her as the other girls are out training on the pitch.

Thankfully for Pernille, you've slipped off to sleep as she begins her workout.

She's completely exhausted, bags under her eyes and movements sluggish as she uses the machines.

"Rough night?" The trainer asks.

She gives him a tight smile. "She got colic. She wouldn't stop crying until four in the morning." She spares a glance over at you. "We're lucky that she's tired too otherwise we wouldn't even be able to do half of this."

The trainer laughs, clapping Pernille on the back. "My wife and I had our son a few years back. Colic doesn't last forever."

"It feels like it does."

They share a laugh just as the other girls fill into the room.

"Pernille!" Pajor cheers," You're back!"

Pernille drops her weights. "I'm back."

More girls flood in and move to crowd around where you're napping. It's the first time for a lot of them that they've seen you in person. Of course, everyone had known you were born and had seen the picture on the group chat but never in person.

"She's beautiful," Popp compliments as she crouches down to look at you," She's so, so beautiful. Like an angel."

"When she isn't crying, she is," Pernille replies.

The crowd swells for a moment as she moves through and picks you up, swaddling you up tightly in your oversized baby blanket. Everyone coos and looks like they're moments away from snatching you from her arms.

"Alright," She says eventually," Are your hands clean? You can all have a quick hold before we go."

A line forms quickly, girls pushing each other to try to edge forward.

"Just quick holds," Pernille says," She's been very tearful lately. I don't want her to wake up in someone else's arms and start crying."

Thankfully, you stay asleep all through your holds and all through the car ride. It's at home where everything falls apart.

You spit out your dummy and screech and whine and sob even when you're safe in Pernille's arms.

You scream so much that your little cheeks turn an alarming shade of red and Pernille paces the length of her apartment to try to soothe you to no avail.

She tries feeding you, setting you down for a nap, changing you but nothing works.

"Please," She says softly, feeling exhausted and utterly broken and thinking about just how unfair it is that Magda's away in England while she's hanging on by a thread with a colicky baby that just won't stop crying," Please stop. Please, please, please."

But you don't stop. You reject your dummy. You reject a feed. You reject all comfort and you scream and cry until you're red in the face and gagging over your own tears.

Pernille starts crying too. From frustration. From exhaustion. From genuine despair over the fact that you haven't stopped crying for hours.

She thinks about calling Magda after nearly two and a half hours but there's nothing Magda can do to help but offer kind words and encouragement and, if that had happened, Pernille's ninety percent sure she would have snapped viciously at her partner without explanation.

So, it's just you (you who's screaming and crying and nearly throwing up) and Pernille (who's crying and pacing and trying to soothe you to no avail).

"Please," Pernille sobs as you continue to scream, your lips taking on a slightly blue tinge from the lack of oxygen you're getting," Oh, please, princesse."

She does another lap of the apartment. She checks to see if you need to be changed. She tries to feed you. She tries to get you to nap.

"Okay, okay, we're going to try this, alright?"

Pernille wipes her own tears away as she starts to run the bath, stripping both herself and you down and sliding into the water. You lay on her chest as she slowly pours lukewarm water over your back as her other hand gently rubs at your head.

You didn't have much hair (and her doctor had assured her that a lot of your wispy baby hair would fall out soon) but it was enough that Pernille could brush against it as you lay on her.

Your face is still scrunched up, a little crinkle between your brows, but you've stopped crying. You coo as more water runs down your back and you finally look up at Pernille, your eyes no longer glassy or tearful.

Curiously, you reach up and poke at her mouth with you little fingers.

Pernille smiles down at you, playfully biting at them before she readjusts.

Your lips are back to a normal colour again and your red cheeks are fading.

She sighs in relief.

"Why are you crying so much, huh?" She teases," Do you miss your Morsa? Is that what it is? I miss her too but we've got each other to look after now, alright? We're gonna be okay, princesse. It's all going to be okay."

[jar-of-hearts131]

Hi! This is my first fanfic! I really love the war siblings dynamic, and I for one love a good dose of angst!

This is a tickle fic!

Lee: Athena, Ares

Ler: Ares, Athena

TW FOR MENTION OF A PANIC ATTACK

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

A God's Burden

“You're doing better” she said matter-of-factly. As the goddess of war and older sister, Athena had been tasked with training and handling the very energetic and new god of war, Ares. She hadn't spoken to him much, and didn't know too much about him. What she did know was that he had a short temper, he had a huge sweet tooth, he preferred the sword to all other weapons, and he had a soft spot for small, fluffy animals, especially dogs. It was odd, to her, that a god meant to be of such a violent nature could be so soft and carefree, but then again, she didn't have much experience with children.

Athena picked up the spear Ares had been using and tossed it over to him as he pulled himself back to his feet. “But charging in blindly will not always win you the battle.”

“So?” He snapped, frustrated that he had lost yet again. “I'm not all wise and calculating like you are, Athena! What do I have to use but brute force and my own strength?”

Again, the same old tirade. They would spar, Ares would lose, start yelling, and Athena would have to calm him down somehow. She didn't quite understand why he was getting so emotional over this. Surely he knew that the best course of action would be to stop complaining and try again right?

Athena opened her mouth to say the rehearsed line she always gave in response to one of Ares's tantrums when he cut her off. “And don't give me that bullshit about how I need to keep my emotions in check! Not everyone can shut themselves off like you do!”

And with that Ares threw down his spear and stormed out of the arena. Athena didn't know why, but a small part of her felt almost guilty. She tried to reason that he would come to his senses eventually and continue training, but as the day went on, there was no sign of him. Athena quarreled with herself in her head, and the big sister part of her won. “Alright,” she sighed. “Let's go find him.”

…

Ares let out a huff of frustration as he sat down beneath a sprawling olive tree. Why was she always able to best him so easily? He was the god of war for Zeus's sake! He needed to be stronger, faster, better! How else would he catch up to the golden child of the Olympians? How else would he be able to earn just a tiny bit of his father's favor? It was no secret that Athena was the favored one out of all of Zeus's godly children. Never a negative word or action was cast in her direction by him. No, that was saved for his other children, or mortals who displeased him. Ares had heard many stories of cities and towns that had dared to disrespect the king of the gods, only to be struck down by a myriad of disasters.

He shuddered. He'd never admit it, but Zeus scared him. Zeus had a quick temper, a trait he had passed onto his son. He was incredibly prideful and vain, and no one was bold or stupid enough to try to bring him down a notch. Those who tried, were dealt with, severely.

Ares didn't want that to be him. He wanted to get stronger, so he could protect himself, so Zeus wouldn't be able to find fault with him. After all, how could the son of the master of heavens have any imperfections? He didn't want to end up like his brother Hephaestus, thrown off of the mountain due to his imperfect appearance.

Tears began to slip down his face unnoticed as he stressed over whether he would ever be the perfect son, the god of war as he was born to be. He hated this part of him, that got overly emotional and screamed and cried. Crying was a sign of weakness, and he wasn't weak. From day one, he was expected to keep his emotions, aside from rage and bloodlust, in a bottle, never to be seen by anyone but him. And still, he had these moments where those pesky emotions forced their way out in ways that he couldn't control. How did Athena do it so easily? Why her and not him? As his thoughts continued to spiral, he curled up tighter and tighter, and began to breathe faster and faster.

…

Athena roamed the grounds searching for her little brother, but the kid was pretty good at hiding. As she passed by the orchards, she heard a whimpering sound, almost like a wounded animal that was trying to hide from a predator. Instinctively, she went to investigate.

It was all she could do to not let out a gasp when she saw her brother, the brash, headstrong Ares curled up and hyperventilating on the ground, seemingly unaware of the world around him. Shit, she didn't know how to handle him like this! Does she hug him? Tell him to get a hold of himself? Just leave him be? No, none of that seemed right. She wished Hera was here, she'd know what to do. But Hera wasn't there, so Athena needed to do something, and fast.

Suddenly, she remembered something from her time with Pallas, her deceased best friend. Whenever Athena was upset or angry Pallas would take a heavy cloak, meant for colder weather, and drape it over Athena's shoulders. The extra weight would help her calm down and bring her back to reality. Maybe that would work with her brother.

Athena took off the cape she always wore. It wasn't as heavy as Pallas’s cloak, but it would do. She gently wrapped it around Ares's frame, and sat down beside him.

“It's okay, you're okay, I'm here” Athena enveloped him in a hug and tried her best to comfort him. After a while, she heard his broken sobs quiet and his breathing even out. She let go of him and turned him around to face her.

“Ares, you can talk to us. No one is going to hate you for having emotions, and I shouldn't have taught you to force them down. I didn't realize how much it affected you, and for that I am sorry.”

Ares felt a spike of anger at her words. He didn't need any pity. He wasn't some broken child who needed to be coddled and protected. Who was she to insinuate that?!

But then he realized something. Pity wasn't something that Athena did. If she was anything, it was genuine. She didn't believe in sugarcoating or false positives. She wasn't one to sweeten her words to spare hurt feelings. So if she had given words of comfort, he knew she truly meant it.

“I-I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have l-lost my temper again. I just got so angry that I couldn't beat you. How can I be a god of war if I can't fight? How am I supposed to protect others if I can't protect myself? I don't want to be weak!”

There. He said it. As soon as those words left his mouth he froze. On one hand, a tremendous weight lifted off his chest for being able to confide in someone. On the other hand, Athena would never look at him the same way again. He basically admitted to being a weak coward right to her face! He was too scared to look at her. He didn't want to see his sister's face contort into a disgusted sneer-

“Wha-?!” Ares yelped as Athena pulled himself backwards into another tight hug. “What are you doing, let me go!”

“Little brother, I am so proud of you for telling me that. Admitting that you are struggling with something does not make you weak. In fact, it takes a lot of strength and bravery to look at something and realize that you can't always do it alone. I promise you, I will never, ever be angry with you for wanting help or guidance. And I will never be mad at you for feeling the need to express your emotions however you see fit. Just, if you feel the need to throw things around, maybe don't do that in Hephaestus's forge. We don't want a repeat of last time.”

They both laughed at remembering Hephaestus's eyes nearly bug out of his head after returning to a forge that had been destroyed by a very angry 13 year old Ares. It had taken almost two weeks to get everything back in working order. Since then, the arena had a special “Rage Room” for when Ares or someone else needed to let off a little steam.

“Are you feeling better, Ares?” Athena asked.

“Not really.” He answered. He wasn't crying anymore, but there was still a tight knot in his chest.

“Well we can't have that now can we?”

“What do you mehEAN?!” He let out a sharp squeal when Athena's hand suddenly started scribbling into his belly.

“I almost forgot how ticklish you are” Ares's eyes were screwed shut, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Why are you laughing so much? We've only just started, and this isn't even your worst spot.” Athena switched to clawing at his sides, causing him to emit shrill giggles.

“Yohur’e the smahahrt one, figuhure it out!” Now that he was laughing, he was being quite sassy.

“Hey! Don't give me attitude!” Athena scolded, but there was no real bite to her voice.

Her hands spidered up to his ribs, causing his arms to clamp down before those evil hands could get any higher. “Ares give me my hands back.” Athena wiggled her fingers as if trying to pull free, but they both knew she could easily get her hands out if she wanted to.

“You cahan get thehehem yohoursehelf!” Ares laughed. “No, I can’t. They're clearly stuck. Come on, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“You ahare being ridiculohous!” He yelped.

“No, I'm not. Now give me my hands.” Athena said sternly. Trying (and failing) to fight down his giggles, Ares slowly pulled his arms up, only for Athena to dig ruthlessly into his highest ribs, resulting in his arms crashing back down once again.

“AthHEnA! Whyhy!” Ares was pretty sure he was dying at this point. Also, if he didn't know better, he'd say his sister was only doing this to punish him for running off earlier. But he did know better. And he knew that his sister just wanted to see him happy. So he didn't fight back too much. After all, he didn't hate it.

Athena started poking around at Ares's neck, as if pushing buttons. Each poke caused him to scrunch up and squeak. “Dohohon't!” Athena would be lying if she said that wasn't the cutest thing she's ever seen. “Stahahap! Whahat are you dohoing?!”

“Don't stop? Wasn’t even planning on it. And to answer your question, I was pressing giggle buttons! Like this one right here!” Athena wiggled a finger into Ares's bellybutton, making him shriek and burst into more happy giggles.

Now, Ares's giggles were adorable, but Athena wanted to kick it up a notch, so she went to grab one of his arms and pull it up to get at his armpits, his death spot, only to be surprised by a sudden shriek, followed by a snort.

Athena couldn't help but cackle at Ares's mortified expression. “What the hell was that?!” She asked through her laughter.

Looking at him again, she realized that har nails had grazed his bicep. She experimentally skitters her nails across the skin, drawing out more high-pitched shrieks and another snort.

Now, Athena isn't usually one to get all mushy. But even she couldn't help but coo over her little brother's reactions.

“Aww, with the way you're acting, your sacred animal should be the pig!” “SHUHUHUT UHUHP!”

Athena dramatically gasped.”Shut up? I so very kindly try to cheer you up and you tell me to shut up? Oh you're in for it now!”

And with that she held him close, and blew a raspberry on his neck.

Ares screamed.

“NAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHP!”

“Are you going to apologize for being rude?” Athena asked before blowing another raspberry and scribbling into his stomach again.

“YEHEHES NOW PLEHEASE STOHOHOHP!” Ares wailed.

Athena smiled, and skittered her nails into his armpits while blowing one last raspberry, drawing out another scream and more belly laughs.

She stopped after another minute, and started rubbing away the ghost tickles. Ares slumped back against her, face red and streaked with tears, still giggling.

“Tired buddy?” Athena asked with a smile.

“Mhmn” was all she got in response. Ares turned and wrapped his arms around her. They remained in a hug for a few minutes until Athena moved to get up, only to realize her lovable dork of a brother had fallen asleep on her.

Smiling, she picked him up and carried him to her palace. He needed the rest anyway.

…

(After the events of the Vengeance Saga. Athena has mostly recovered, but has drastically weakened due to the extended bedrest. Apollo recommended that she take walks every day until a little more strength returns, and then she can do a bit more exercise and spar a little.)

The weather was nice today. Not that it was normally bad, it just seemed exceptionally nice today. Zeus must be in a good mood.

Most of the gods were taking the time to enjoy the weather and take a break from their duties (hey, even gods need a break sometimes). But one goddess in particular didn't seem so happy.

Athena was upset. She didn't know why exactly. She hadn't no reason to be sad. She was (almost) fully healed, Odysseus was home, and family drama was at an all-time low. Yet, she still felt uneasy.

Normally she would go spar with Ares or train one of her mortal champions when she felt off, but Apollo stubbornly refused to let her. Something about her overworking herself. She looked around. She saw grass, trees, Hermes in the distance messing with Poseidon again. But no Apollo. “Surely a few hours couldn't hurt” she thought.

Spoiler: a few hours could most definitely hurt.

She had only just finished warming up when she felt a sharp sting, and then the sickening feeling of something flowing down her back. Reaching behind her, her hand came back coated in gold. Athena took two steps towards the arena exit, and then promptly passed out.

She awoke several hours later in the infirmary. Apollo saw she woke up and sighed. “What did I tell you about training? I thought you would have learned after last time!”

Athena flopped onto her back with a huff, wincing when the now open wound was pressed on. She turned back onto her side and responded “I was only going to be there for a little while. I didn't expect it to open back up.”

Apollo sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Athena, I know you want to get back out there, and do whatever it is you do. Train another mortal champion, inspire another tactician, or even just spend time with Odysseus again. Don't give me that look, I know you've been sneaking down to the mortal plane. But you seriously need to rest. Immortal as you are, your body needs time to recover.”

Athena shook her head. “I’m fine, Apollo. You don't need to keep me here. I shouldn't just be sitting here uselessly.”

Apollo took one look at his sister's tear-filled eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He took a breath before continuing. “Athena. My dear sister. I love you, but you are the biggest hypocrite I have ever known.”

Athena looked up at him shocked. “Apollo, what the hell?! I am not a hypocrite!”

Apollo just gave her The Look™️. “Really? Just last month you were the one to manhandle Dionysus in here after he decided to push Ares’s buttons one too many times. And the time before that, when Hermes decided to taunt Poseidon by stealing and hiding his trident. If you and Zeus hadn't intervened I don't think even I could have fixed him up.”

Athena’s shiver at the mention of her father’s name did not go unnoticed. Apollo’s tone and expression softened. “Please Athena. I know you always like to be the one to take care of us, but now let me take care of you.”

Athena weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, she really just wanted to get out of bed and pretend this all had never happened. But on the other hand, she knew that it was the most rational and logical thing to stay put and let herself heal. So why was she so against it?

Surely she could handle herself. Apollo didn't need to waste his time on her, not after all that he’s already done. She didn't want to burden him any longer.

Apollo recognized Athena’s internal debate and tapped her forehead to bring her back to the present. “Hey. I know what you're thinking. You are not a burden. I am literally the god of healing. This is my job. And more importantly, you're my sister, and I want you to be happy and healthy. And if that means you have to stay in the infirmary for now, then so be it. I really do care about you, and so do the others. We don't want to see you hurt yourself because you're too proud to admit that you need help. So stop being so stubborn and let me help you.”

It was like he read her mind. Somehow, her (literal) ray-of-sunshine brother knew exactly what she needed to hear at that moment. Athena felt the anxiety and uneasiness in her chest die down, and smiled. “Thank you, brother.”

Apollo smiled back at her. “Of course, sister. Now, you look exhausted. Try to get some sleep, I'll come back to check on you in a few hours. And if you need anything, Iaso and Panacea should be around.”

With that, Apollo left, and Athena closed her eyes.

Hours later, she awoke to a commotion on the other side of the door.

“I’m afraid I can't let you in, Lord Apollo said she needs to rest.”

“I don't care what that sunshiney dolt said! I want to see my sister!”

The door swung open to reveal a ticked-off Ares and a frustrated Iaso. She turned on her heel and stormed off, presumably to get Apollo.

Ares sauntered in and plopped down with a grin in the chair at Athena’s bedside. “So what’s this I heard about you not taking medical advice seriously?”

“Really Ares? You did the same thing last week. If Apollo hadn't gotten Hera to chew you out then you never would have listened. Now, I was already scolded once, so I don't want to hear it.” She turned to her other side, a scowl on her face. She clearly was not in the mood to deal with her currently very smug brother.

“Oh come on Thena, lighten up! I wasn't gonna scold you. Unlike one of our siblings, I don't have a stick up my ass all the time.”

Athena let out a bark of laughter. It was very true that Apollo could sometimes rival her in terms of stubbornness. She turned back to face Ares. At least she could lie on her back now without any pain. “So what are you doing here? You rarely seek me out these days, and when you do, it's either to argue or to spar. I am in no shape to do either right now, so why did you come to see me?”

Ares looked almost hurt. “Can I not come visit my sister just to spend time with her?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, as if afraid to speak. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok. When I heard you were in the infirmary again, I got scared. Especially after…” His voice trailed off.

Ares didn't have to finish his sentence for Athena to know what he was talking about. It's been months, but the events of that day still burn fresh in their minds. Memories of the arena, of lighting, of white-hot, searing pain, then nothing.

For Ares, memories of fear that was almost paralyzing. That left him unable to do anything but ask “Is she dead?” He's lost count of how many times he cursed his own name or cried himself to sleep since that day, wishing he had these strength to help her, to run over there, hell, he'd fight Zeus if it meant his sister didn't have to suffer the way she did. They had their quarrels, but everyone knew that Zeus had gone too far.

But instead he had stood there, staring at the charred body of his sister and mentor, the one who had taught him everything he knew, watching as she was struck down again and again, just to get back up once more. Watching as she reached the dias and desperately grabbed their father's hand, and begged. His proud, stoic sister, begging on her knees. And then he watched as the last of her strength disappeared, and she collapsed.

He never wanted to see her like that again. He had spend every day in the infirmary with her until she woke up. Every day for almost two months. When she finally opened her eyes, he was there, with Apollo and Aphrodite. He remembered that day clearly. He remembered he had been arguing over her medical treatment, debating over the proper way to dress her wounds. Only to hear Athena's voice softly correct them both. He remembered his eyes filling with tears when he looked over and saw that her eyes were open. He remembered hugging her tightly, then letting go after remembering she was still injured. He had stayed and talked with her for hours afterwards. Well, he talked and she listened, her voice was really raspy and talking was painful. He updated her on everything that had happened while she was gone, about Odysseus being released, about Poseidon, about the slaughtering of the suitors and the family reunion. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he told her about how right she was about the bloodshed, and how sorry he was about ever doubting her mortal (and his son, Telemachus killed his fair share of suitors too). Apollo eventually has to physically remove him so Athena couldn't rest, but he continued to come every day until she could walk again.

Smiling sadly at the memory, his expression darkened. He hated seeing her hurt, and he hated it more when she did it to herself. Yes, he could chew her out about how stupid she was, but that wouldn't do either of them any favors. Instead, he had a better idea.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and then Apollo yanking him by the ear.

“OW! LET ME GO YOU POMPOUS BITCH!”

“I TOLD YOU SHE NEEDS TO REST! YOU BOTH ARE TERRIBLE AT LISTENING!”

Athena watched her brothers argue with the expression of the oldest sibling who is absolutely done with this shit, before getting up with a sigh (no pain yay) and knocking their heads together.

“Both of you shut up. Yelling won't solve anything. Apollo, he was just here to check on me. Ares, we talked about calling your siblings bitches. Now, both of you apologize and be done with it.”

The brothers grumbled out half-hearted apologies to each other and rubbed the sore spot on their heads. Apollo sighed and turned to his sister. “Athena, I can see that you are able to stand now, you can leave after I do one more examination. Ares, if you must stay, you can wait outside.”

Ares walked out the door and sat down in the hall, waiting for Apollo to finish. Around 10 minutes later, Athena walked out the door, sporting fresh bandages and after bottles of assorted liquids and pills. Most likely painkillers of some kind, just in case.

“So where are you off to now?” He asked.

“I need to bring these back to my palace, then I'm probably just going to take a walk.” She responded, shifting the bottles in her arms.

Ares took two of them, smirking at Athena's squawk of protest. “Relax, I'm just helping you out. You'd probably drop one if you tried to carry that many by yourself.” Athena scowled, but thanked him for the assistance. Her arms did feel weak, as much as she hated to admit it, she did need the help.

Arriving at Athena's palace, the siblings went to her bedroom to set the bottles down. Athena frowned at the haphazard way her brother had carelessly left them on the nightstand, and took a minute to organize them.

Ares watched in amusement. “Sis, they're just a few bottles, you don't need to arrange them down to the millimeter.”

Athena scoffed. “Brother, you know I cannot just leave them disorganized. Everything must be in its place.”

Ares sighed impatiently. “Well, when you are done, come meet me outside. We're going for a walk. I know if I leave you to your own devices you'll forget. For all your wisdom, you are terrible at self-care.”

Athena bit back the retort she had, not wanting to be drawn back into their earlier squabble. After what seemed like an eternity (if you asked Ares, in reality it was only about five minutes), Athena stepped outside to meet her brother for their walk.

Wandering for a bit, they came across a clearing after passing through a dense wooded area. Athena recognized it as an old practice area, one that she and her siblings would meet at to hone their abilities or play. The grooves in the trees and patches of dirt were remnants of sword swings, wrestling matches, and rouge magic. The branches held memories of stargazing, long chats, and whispered secrets. The leaves hustled with the sound of laughter and screaming. A fond smile crept onto her face. Yes, there were many memories here indeed.

Athena didn't have to look over to know that Ares has a similar expression. Wordlessly, they walked over to an old olive tree. The branches were barren, long past the days of bearing any fruit, but the leaves still provided plenty of shade to rest in. Still in silence, they sat down next to each other.

“It's been a while since we were here. I can hardly remember the last time I sat under this tree.” Ares spoke after a while.

Athena grinned. “I remember it quite well. As I recall, you were having a bit of a tantrum and I had to calm you down.”

Ares bonked his head back against the tree bark. “Don't remind me of that.” He groaned, his cheeks already darkening from a faint blush.

“Aww, why? It worked didn't it?” Athena cooed, a smug grin still adorning her face.

Ares wanted to wipe that grin right off her face. But he didn't want to hurt her. He mulled over his options. Headlock? No, she was too fast. Wrestling match? No, she might get injured again, and then he'd have Apollo on his ass. He thought back again to that one afternoon and a smile began to form. Oh,yes, that would work perfectly.

“Thena, don't think I'm going to forget about you injuring yourself so carelessly. I think it's my turn to teach you a lesson. But since words will not be effective, I have another idea.”

Athena blinked. One second she was next to Ares, and the next he had pulled her in front of him, her back against his chest, and her arms pinned to her sides.

She caught on immediately. “Ares, dohon't you evehen think about ihit!”

“Aww, giggling already, I haven't even started! I thought you were the stoic one!” Ah yes. His sister's greatest weakness. Anticipation.

“Now remind me. Where is your worst spot? Is it your stomach? Or maybe your knees? Or could it be your sides? Or maybe…”

In her flustered state, Athena didn't notice one of Ares's hands sneaking up to her shoulders.

“... right here.” Ares quickly scribbled on her shoulder blades for a second before stopping, causing Athena to let out a giggly shriek. She yanked a hand free and slapped it over her mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle her giggles.

“Oh no, we can't have you muffling those adorable giggles of yours!” Ares teased, using one hand to hold both of hers and his other to dig into her exposed side.

“AHAREHEHES!”

“Yes that is my name! Don’t wear it out!” Ares laughed at his own joke as Athena groaned through her own laughter.

“Thahat is a teherrible joke! Apollo is fuhunnier than you!” Athena, even like this, was still finding the energy to sass him.

“Now that was just rude! I tell great jokes! And if it was so bad, then why are you laughing? Look at yourself, you can't stop!” As he said this, he spidered all over her stomach and sides. Not her worst spot, but still enough to make her jump around like a fish out of water.

Ares decided a change of positions was in order. He couldn't have Athena injured herself thrashing around like this. He gently maneuvered her to lie on her stomach, then straddled her waist and pinned her hands down with his knees.

“Ares what on earth are you doing? Get off!”

“No can do sis! Can't have you hurting yourself wiggling like a worm!”

“I'll hurt you if you don't get off of me!” Anyone else would be scared at this point, but Ares knew Athena well enough to know she didn't hate this as much as she made it seem.

“Aww Thena, it's just us. You don't have to present to hate this. Come on, we both know you secretly love it.”

Athena felt her face flush and for one was at a loss for words. She refused to let him have the satisfaction of admitting that he was right, but if she could see the look on his face, she'd see the smirk of someone who already knew he was right.

“Alright, too much talking, not enough laughing.” Ares said before digging into her ribs.

Athena squeaked before trying to bury her face into her shoulder while also trying to hug her arms as close to her sides as possible. It wasn't working out too well.

Ares looked down at his sister and felt a pang of adoration. They both knew she needed this. And he was all too happy to help. Besides, it was fun knocking her down a peg or two, and he was finally getting his revenge from all those years ago.

He reached a hand up to flutter against her neck and ears and had to hold himself back from audibly cooing at the result. Athena practically melted and her giggles became intermingled with what could only be described as content owl sounds. Gently brushing her hair out of the way exposed her flushed face, her scrunched eyes and nose, and wide, happy smile. It was very rare to see Athena like this, and gods damn it, he was going to savor every second!

“Thena, I almost forgot how cute you are! A smile suits you better than a scowl.” Ares teased again, smiling even wider when he saw her try to hide her face again.

“I'him not cuhute!” Athena tried to protest, but was almost cut off by more of her own giggles when she felt a finger swipe over the shell of her ear.

At this point she had completely stopped fighting, so Ares decided to pull out the big guns. He began quickly and lightly swiping up and down her spine while clawing at her shoulder blades.

Athena screamed.

“WHAHAIT! STAHAHAHP!”

“ Athena, with these dramatics, it's a wonder you don't spend more time with Hermes or Dionysus. You'd fit right in with those two.”

Ares knew she could handle a lot more.

“Now, if I remember correctly, if I do this..”

He pinched at her ribs before spidering all over her back.

“Then these should come out!”

As if on cue, two huge owl wings sprung out from Athena’s shoulders. Ares grinned. He had made Athena lose control of her powers enough to trigger her wings to come out. He had to fight down a wider smile as he lightly combed his hands through the feathers. They were really soft, and tickled his hands a bit.

He watched in amusement as the wings fluffed up and shuddered as he dragged through the feathers again. He looked down at Athena and saw her entire form was tense and shaking with suppressed laughter. Not on his watch.

With absolutely zero warning, he raked through the wings, making sure to dig right into the muscles of the wings for maximum reaction, and was nearly thrown off from how hard Athena bucked.

“NAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THE WIHIHIHNGS! AHARES PLEHEASE!”

Yeah, Athena’s wings were horrifically ticklish. A fact her siblings, especially one particular war god, loved to exploit. Athena had hoped Ares had forgotten about that, but she wasn't that lucky.

Ares regained his balance and lightened his touch a bit. Athena was still squealing and laughing her heart out, but at least she wouldn't scream so loud all of Olympus would hear. He loved embarrassing his siblings, but he wanted her to keep some of her dignity.

Athena was in hell. Every touch on her wings was like sparks firing throughout her body. She couldn't remember the last time she was tickled like this. Well, the way she was feeling, she couldn't remember much of anything. It's been a while since she could laugh freely. Being born out of Zeus's head as an adult had stolen the childhood her siblings could experience and left her without a lot of the memories they had. The closest thing she had to that was her time with Pallas, but that was taken away all too soon. Even in her frenzied state, she felt her mind begin to spiral.

A sudden buzzing sensation on her spine yanked her out of the dark headspace. Ares smiled at her from where he had just blown a raspberry right between her wings. “C'mon, no looking sad! I know you were thinking unhappy thoughts and that is not allowed right now!” Ares's goofy declaration completely wiped any residual sadness Athena felt left over and replaced it with a giddy, fuzzy feeling.

Ares continued to rake through the wings and blow raspberries, occasionally reaching down to scribbled on her sides or ribs, cutting through the harsh laughter with sweet giggles and even the occasional snort. Ares learned that if he squeezed her hips, she would let out a squeal, if he dug into the spaces in her ribs, she would snort, and gently tracing her sides produced absolutely adorable giggles.

He decided to finally leave her wings alone and give her a breather. Athena, after a few minutes of giggling, retracted her wings, before closing her eyes and breathing heavily. Ares reached down and traced her arms, drawing out more giggles.

He got up and off of her before pulling her into a bear hug. Athena relaxed into the hug and they both just sat there for a moment, before Ares whispered “I'm not done with you just yet” before blowing a raspberry on the side of her neck and scribbling frantically all over her torso.

“WhaHaIT NOhohO!” Her laughter was laced with all sorts of sounds. Giggles, snorts, random owl sounds, it was all there. Ares finally decided she had enough and finished off with another raspberry on the other side of her neck.

He just held her as the giggles began to die down. He waited until she had fully relaxed before moving again, this time propping her up against his side with his arm around her shoulders. He was surprised to see her curled up a bit and cuddle into his side.

“Tired sis?” He asked with a smile.

“Mhmm.” She mumbled before yawning. Athena closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her brother's arms, a small smile still on her face.

Ares watched her sleep with a small smile that matched her own, but his was tinged with concern. Athena hadn't slept well in ages, not since that day in the arena. He really hoped she would be able to rest, even for just a little bit.

Gods, he missed this. Just messing with his siblings, not a care or responsibility in the world. Not fighting with them, or spending every waking moment treading on eggshells around their father's quick temper. Not dealing with one problem after the next, with no respite. But he shouldn't get to greedy. Sure, it's been eons since he had time like that, but at least he had time like that at all. Athena never had time to just be a kid and explore the world. What kind of brother was he to let that happen? Ares vowed to himself to make sure his sister would get to experience all that she missed out on. He would see to it personally.

But for now, he was a bit tired. As his eyes closed, he felt Athena stir for a moment, and then relax again. He wrapped both arms around her protectively. “I won't let anyone or anything hurt you ever again.” He thought as sleep finally overtook him.

…

“It's nice to see them not fighting for once.”

“I agree Apollo, maybe we should just let them be. Athena rarely gets to sleep, and Ares never looks this peaceful.” Artemis sighed. “I know it's getting late. I'll keep an eye on them from the moon chariot. You don't have to worry about them.

“But-”

“Yes I know you can't help it. But trust me brother. I will take care of them for the night. Just let them rest. And as for you, go get some rest too. I know you haven't really been sleeping since the first time Athena reopened her wound.”

“How did you know?”

“We're twins, Apollo. I know these things about you. You criticized Athena for it, but just like her, you'd kill yourself to help others. I know you want nothing more than to help her. But you need to be able to help yourself first. So take the night. Get some sleep. Take care of yourself for once. I got them.”

“... Alright.”

“Goodnight brother.”

“Artemis!”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Artemis just smiled, as radiant as a full moon. “Of course, brother.”

Apollo returned to his home, and was able to sleep through the night for the first time in a while. Under the watchful eye of their younger sister, Ares and Athena both slept peacefully until the light of Dawn danced on the horizon.

Ares was the first one to wake, blinking a few times and gathering his bearings. He shifted, but felt a weight on him. He looked down, and smiled in surprise and adoration when he saw Athena, still asleep, holding onto him tightly. He was awake, but he supposed he could stay a little while longer.

Later Athena would remark that it was the best sleep she had in a very long time. She didn't remember Ares carrying her back to her palace, or Aphrodite helping Apollo change her bandages. She didn't remember all of her siblings gather in her room as she continued to sleep, tidying up and making sure everything was nice and tidy, just the way she liked it. She didn't remember Hermes bringing a hand carved wooden owl, a gift from Odysseus, and a card from Telemachus. But she awoke to the changes, and to her siblings all there, with some food. They all had a picnic in her room, and spent some time forgetting about their duties, their responsibilities, their quarrels. And they talked, and laughed. They swapped stories, and shared memories. And none of them mentioned it, but there was something different in the air that day. Something fresh. A new chapter for all of them.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 14/?)

Series Masterlist

Kingslanding 

113 ac

Your pov

I try to ignore the wails and screams that fills the halls. The swish of maids dresses as they rush down the halls with bloody rags trying to find clean ones. The whispers of courtiers trying to decide if the babe will be a boy or not. 

I try, but I find even a deaf man would hear the wails that fill the keep. 

All this pain for a babe? I think solemnly looking down at my flat belly. To think that one day a babe would one day grow there is baffling. 

“Her Grace needs more hot water.” I hear a frantic maid say most likely to another maid. 

I remember how happy I was finding out I was gonna be a big sister, now I wish I wasn't if only for her. 

Papa and Ali asked for me to come to his chambers. I try to figure out on the way what it could be about. 

Maybe there's gonna be another wedding? Nyra is betrothed to Laenor. I think just before the doors to Papa’s chambers open. 

“Ah wonderful you're both here!” Papa says when I enter. I notice Nyra sitting next to him scowling towards Ali who only hangs her head and twists her fingers.

“Yes we're both here, now what do you need?” Nyra asks in that tone of hers. She's been speaking this way ever since Ali married Papa. I don't get why she blames Ali, Ali said she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, and it seemed like she wanted to. 

Papa grimaces at Nyras tone before smiling again. 

“I-no we have wonderful news. The Queen is with child!” Papa exclaims taking Ali's hand in his not even looking at her.

I smile ear to ear when I hear this. “I'm gonna be a big sister?” I ask excitedly as I rush over to Ali touching her belly.

I never got the chance before, Papa said Mama was too sick that it just wouldn't happen for a while. But then she did, but then she passed. 

With that thought I look up at Ali worriedly and she seems to notice my fears as she speaks next. 

“The Maesters say it should be a healthy pregnancy. No complications, at least from what they can tell as of now.” 

I smile wider, staring at her still flat belly trying to figure out if I'm gonna have a sister or brother. But then Nyra scoffs and glares at Ali.

“It's only been three moons since your wedding, and you're already with child? Interested.” She says as if she knows some dark secret and is all too happy about it. 

I'm confused why the time between their marriage and the baby being here is important. I mean we all saw them kiss at the wedding, and many times after. It was only a matter of time those kisses made a baby. 

Before Ali can cry from Nyras cruel words or Papa yell at Nyra I decide to speak. 

“This is great, do we know if it's a boy or a girl?” 

This makes Ali laugh as she looks down at me stroking my wild hair back. I know she knows own. I just went for a fly, I had told her that Srromchaser has been sad lately and I hoped a fly would help.

“We won't know until they are born. But what do you hope for?” 

My immediate thought is that I hope Ali lives and doesn't pass away like Mama. But I know I can't say that, this is a happy moment, no sad thoughts allowed. 

“I want a,” I start stopping to think one last time before responding. “Sister!” I decide with a nod.

She smiles down at me, she finally seems happy again. Like the Ali I knew before Nyra was mad at her and Papa married her. 

“Oh but a son would be helpful, don't you want a brother, Darling?” Papa says with a forced grin.

I try not to frown at his words, Papa always wanted a son I never understood why though. 

But what made me the most upset was how his words took away Alis smile. She was finally happy and he just had to ruin it. 

I'm brought back when the screams finally stop, I feel my heart stop, I can't breathe.

Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be a babe crying? Surely if I can hear her screams all the way across the keep I would hear a babes cries? I think frantically as I climb out of bed clutching my Caraxes plush. 

I move to open the door only to find Ser Criston. He doesn't seem to have noticed me having seemingly also been co fused by the sudden quiet. 

“Is she alright, oh please say she's alright Criston.” I beg tears rolling down my cheeks. 

He looks down at me frowning before kneeling and taking my hands in his much larger ones. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out. Stay here, a guard will be in front of your door. I will be back as soon as I can with news.” Ser Criston says before standing and turning down the hall in search of a maid or maester with news.

I try not to think about how he didn't say good news, only news. I know there is a chance she could die, but I prayed, I prayed so much she wouldn't. I prayed to the Seven like she taught me, to the old gods, I even tried to pray to the Valyrian ones like Kepus taught me. So surely one of them heard me and will follow my prayers. 

I turn back into my chambers wiping my tears walking towards Orchid. She quickly sits me in her lap showing me the new hat she made for her son Noah. 

“I was thinking of putting little stars along the hem, and for his sister Clover well she will have flowers. She says trying to distract me from the cruel wait to know if all is well. 

I nod my head as I move Caraxes wings up and down pretending he is actually in the skins and not just a plush in my arms. 

Kepus wouldn't make me wait this long, he'd let me know right away. I think eyeing the door for any moment when finally after what feeling like moons a knock comes to the door.

“The Queen awaits you, Your Grace.” I hear Criston say through the door. 

Orchid quickly sets me on my feet and slips my wool slippers on as well as my silk shawl ‘to keep the cold away’ she says. Before running to the door with Caraxes still clutched in my arms.

“Is she alright? Is the babe? Oh please tell me they are alright!” I plead as he takes my hand in his guiding me towards the Queen's chambers. 

He smiles down at me before nodding and I feel all the worry leave my body. I fight the tears of relief that they are alright, that they are still breathing, that they hadn't passed like Mother and Baelon did. 

I can't help but notice all the courtiers who stand outside the Queen's chambers. I hear them whisper about how if it's a boy it would be the heir. 

If it's a boy it would be heir? I wouldn't feel all this stress anymore? I wouldn't have all of court watching me? I think excitedly before remembering that if it is a boy it will feel all this stress, fear, and crushing weight on him.

No please don't let it be a boy, I don't want anyone to feel this, let alone a innocent babe. I pray to any gods that will hear me.

Ser Ceiston pushes them all out of our way until we yet to the doors. 

“The Queen and King are excited to see you.” He says before opening the door and letting me in.

I step in taking in the sight of Papa talking to maester about something, and of Ali holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. I watch with bated breaths as she lifts her head to look at me. Her smile lights the room from its pure joy. 

“Come here.” She says waving me over. 

I waste no time running over to her tears of relief finally rolling down my cheeks. I climb into the bed sluggling into her side crying into her chest.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” She asks stroking my hair back so she can wipe my tears as they fall.

“I thought something bad happened, that you would be like-like.” I can't even finish the sentence but thankfully she seems to understand as she hums before responding.

“Me and your brother are perfectly fine.” She says and I can't help but look up at her wide eyed.

“I have a baby brother?” I ask looking down at the black and gold blanket again. 

“Yes, his name is Aegon.” 

I smile big as I move the blanket to the side to see his chubby cheeks and silver gold wisps. 

“Like the conquer. I love it.” I say stroking his cheek. 

His skin feels so soft, so fragile, like the finest silk. His cheeks are red and he seems to be asleep as his eyes are closed and he has yet to open them. 

“I'm glad you like them, now I have two wonderful children. You and Aegon.” She says and I freeze turning to look up at her. 

I see the joy bit also the fear in her eyes. But I don't know why she is afraid, I would be over joyed to be her child as well.

“Well we are lucky to have such a good Mama.” I respond and I see her wipe at her eyes fighting tears. At first I think she is sad but then she smiles and kisses my brow and I know they are happy tears. 

“Can I hold him?” I ask to which she nods telling me to sit with my back against the head board and hold my arms out in front of me. 

When Aegon is set into my arms I'm shocked how heavy he is. He's so tiny surely he isn't that heavy? I think looking down at him once he is in my lap. 

“He's so cute.” I whisper excitedly to Ali.

“He truly is.” She says shifting her position only to whince in pain. 

I frown going to ask if she is alright when she kisses my cheek and looks down at Aegon again.

“He looks just like you. Just with Papa’s hair, and I don't know what his eyes look like.” I whisper to her.

“You think so? All of the men say he looks like the King. And I hadn't gotten a close look at his eyes, but I do know they are purple.” She says stroking Aegons nose making him scrunch it up in annoyance making us both giggle.

It always strikes me as odd how she always refers to Papa as ‘the King', they are married and yet they only call each other by their titles. King, Queen, Wife, Husband, anything but their names or a sweet nickname. But instead of bringing it up I shrug it off like always looking down at my little brother again.

“I'm your big sister, I'll always protect you. Even when your big and strong, I'm gonna protect you from the bad people here. I'll guide you, teach you Valyrian, I even have toys you can pick from. Just not my Caraxes and Stormchaser plushes. Oh and not my dolly either, she looks just like me, even had my eyes.” I whisper down to him excitedly.

In my excitement I miss how Nyra walks in only to storm out once she hears its a son. But what I wish I didn't miss was how Papa stares at Aegon with disdain, and how the Hand looks at him like a tool. But Ali does, and because of this she holds me and Aegon closer silently swearing to the gods to always protect us even if it meant her demise.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 37

Gifs NOT mine.

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 12 minutes

Year posted - 2025

So yeah I totally killed the reader off in this one... Wanted this one to be angsty. Enjoy.

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

• Obi-wan Kenobi •

• Obi-wan knew he shouldn't have let you join him on this particular mission.

• He knew something was off about this mission, he had sensed it in the Force.

• But he'd let you join regardless, and now you lay at his feet, bleeding out.

• He quickly dispatched of the enemy, and pulled you into his arms.

• "My love stay with me, you're going to be okay."

• He cradled your head in his free hand, trying desperately to assure you that everything will be okay.

• While also trying to fool himself into thinking you'll be able to pull through.

• As your breathing turned shallow, he kissed your forehead, smiling through the pain.

• He needed to be strong for you.

• And as your eyes fluttered closed, and your chest stilled, Obi-wan felt as if a part of himself had died with you.

• Only then did he allow himself to cry, and Obi-wan Kenobi was never the same.

• Becoming a shell of the man he once was, he eventually leaves the Jedi and roams the galaxy, feeling utterly lost without you by his side.

• Anikin Skywalker •

• Anikin thought he could protect you from anything.

• His one truest love, the one person he would have done anything for.

• This is the most dramatic turn of events for Anikin, the moment when he gave into the dark side.

• Cradling your lifeless body in his arms, Anikin screamed and cried.

• "You can't leave me (Y/n), you can't!"

• And with the aggressive flick of his wrist, he killed those that had taken you from him.

• He was merciless, unforgiving, and beyond angry.

• Anikin felt as if he'd died alongside you, and in many ways he did.

• Alone he laid you to rest.

• His once beautiful blue eyes turned to yellow as he watched you disappear from his life.

• Anikin felt as if your blood was on his hands, as if he failed to protect you.

• He also felt as if he failed you, because if you hadn't loved him as deeply as you did, maybe then you wouldn't have given your life for his.

• The day you died, was the very same day Darth Vader was born.

• Qui-Gon Jinn •

• Qui-Gon knew he shouldn't have grown attached to you, he knew it wouldn't end well.

• The rules about attachments, about love, were in place for this very reason.

• Quickly he took care of the man that had fatally wounded you, and held you close.

• Try as he might with the help of the force he attempted to heal your wounds, unable to do so he tried his best to be strong for you.

• He pecked your lips, and brushed back your hair.

• "You're going to be alright darling, just breath. That's it, just keep breathing."

• His hands shook as he placed his free hand over your wound, trying weakly to stop the bleeding.

• Again he tried using the Force to at least try to ease your pain, to make this easier for you.

• "Just relax my darling, we'll see eachother again."

• Qui-Gon promised you with a weak smile, his heart breaking at the sight of your own equally weak smile.

• His heart breaking further as he felt your breathing slow down considerably, the light in your eyes fading with every shallow breath.

• If there was anything Qui-Gon was grateful for, it was getting to hold you in his arms one last time.

• Darth Maul •

• Maul was foolish enough to think you were untouchable, that you were both untouchable.

• And his world crashed around him as you collapsed to the ground.

• Maul thought he knew pain, but all that he's been through, all that he's done. It was nothing compared to losing you.

• "You'll pay for this!"

• Maul growled at the man that was daring enough to hurt you.

• Ruthlessly he slashed at the man, cutting him limb from limb, and keeping him alive until he was satisfied.

• His rage blinded him, and only subsidied when he heard you wheezing in pain.

• "(Y/n) my star."

• Without another thought he dropped his saber, and rushed to your side, cradling you against his chest.

• He was unfazed by your blood seeping into his robes, firmly placing his hand against your wound, desperately trying to at least slow the bleeding.

• "I'll find you again my star, nothing can keep me from you, nothing."

• Maul promised as he rest his forehead against your own, the connection between you both through the Force, assuring him that he could keep that promise.

• He also swore to take down anyone and everyone that was involved in your demise, whoever that man worked for was as good as dead, and anyone else Maul deemed guilty.

• Maul will destroy worlds to avenge you if he must.

• He kept his eyes locked with yours as you slowly slipped away, his hearts thundering with heartache.

• "We will be together again."

• Maul promised before you gave your final breath, a rage filled scream escaping him as you died.

• And all who knew of Darth Maul, learned that after your demise, the Sith could be far crueler, far darker than he had been when you were still alive.

• Maul eventually turns to the traditions of the Zabrak, and finds a way to reunite with you through the magick of his people.

• It isn't enough, and it'll never be enough, because it is simply a ghost of you.

• But until his demise it is all he can manage, and he will accept that while he cannot hold you anymore, he can at least still see you and speak with you.

• Feral Opress •

• Feral is heartbroken beyond belief.

• You were the only truly good thing in his life, you were his and he was yours.

• Savage had witnessed the whole thing unfold, and for the sake of his brother, he struck down the man that dared to harm you.

• Feral wasn't sure what to do, so he acted on instinct, and laid beside you, pulling you into his arms.

• You had once said laying in his embrace was your favorite thing, the thing that brought you the most comfort.

• And he knew that's all he could do for you, comfort you as you slowly succumbed to your wounds.

• "Sh sh my sweet, just relax, I'm here, I've got you."

• He brushed your hair back in a soothing way, ignoring how much it hurt him to feel your blood painting his skin.

• He peppered kisses across your paling face, his hearts breaking with every kiss.

• You giggled in a pitiful way, coughing a moment later, blood oozed from your mouth.

• And Feral, delicately, lovingly wiped it away.

• "It's okay my sweet, look at me."

• His lip quivered a little as your glossy eyes peered into his own.

• "I love you, don't you ever forget that."

• He pecked your lips, tears escaping him when your final breath wheezed out from your lungs.

• Savage Opress •

• Savage instantly saw red, his hearts filled with rage, and regret.

• He ripped the man who hurt you limb from limb with his bare hands. The man's blood only cooling his temper a little.

• Dropping the carcass carelessly to the ground, he rushed back to your side, and as gently as he could he picked you up and cradled you against his chest.

• With you in his arms, Savage walked carefully across the tundra of the desolate planet you were on, unable, unwilling to just leave you on this wasteland of a planet.

• "Oh little one, my sweet stupid girl. You should have just let me handle him."

• He meant well, he really did. But he was hurt that you would do something so reckless, so selfless.

• You had once promised him forever.

• You giggled weakly, reaching up to caress his handsome face. And Savage melted into your touch.

• His hearts broke, knowing he couldn't save you, not this time.

• His blazing eyes locked onto your pale face, he wanted to commit your face to memory, despite the fact that he already has every part of you committed to memory.

• "I'll see you again little one, through the magick, the Force, I will see you again."

• He promised as he cradled you close, the chill of your skin finally breaking his resolve.

• Savage cried as he held you close, falling to his knees as you struggled to breathe.

• He grew darker that day, much darker. Swearing to fight to the bitter end, until he could be reunited with you once more.

• Kylo Ren •

• The moment you collapsed before his eyes, Kylo felt as if he would die alongside you.

• With a rage filled cry, Kylo cut down the man that hurt you, and threw the rest over a nearby cliff with the Force.

• He fell to his knees beside you, watching helplessly as your blood stained the snow around you.

• "Starlight what have you done?"

• He breathed out as he pulled you into his arms, tears of heartache and rage streaming down his face, his helmet long since abandoned.

• "I couldn't- couldn't let you get hurt."

• You had wheezed out, desperately clutching the deep gash at your side. Kylo's hand rest over yours, desperately hoping to stop the bleeding.

• "I can't live without you."

• Kylo whispered in a broken voice, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

• He squeezed you tighter, as you grew colder and colder in his arms.

• "Don't leave me, please, I can't go on without you."

• Kylo shook in his sorrow and rage, as your breathing became shallow.

• Despite the fact that you were literally dying, you still tried to comfort him, brushing his hair back weakly, your blood staining his pale skin.

• This only served to break his heart further, how can he possibly go on without you?

• Kylo is the most likely to rage an all out war, in hopes of getting himself killed so he could be reunited with you.

• But that's not to say he won't fight to the bitter end.

• Armitage Hux •

• It took everything in Armitage to stay standing, to not collapse and cradle you in his arms.

• If he had done so, he knew your sacrifice would have been in vain.

• But the moment the man is killed by his troopers, he's falling to his knees and pulling you into his arms.

• "GET A MEDICAL DROID NOW!"

• He barks at his men, who rush to follow out his order.

• But it's too late, your once bright eyes are dull and lifeless, having died on impact.

• That doesn't stop Armitage from deluding himself into thinking you'll be okay.

• He's crying, and begging you to wake up, but you don't respond to any of his attempts to stir you.

• "Please angel, wake up, come on."

• He's shaking you, kissing you, and eventually in his desperation he's beating on your chest in an attempt to get your heart pumping again.

• By the time a medical droid comes, he refuses to let you go. His troopers eventually have to tear him away from your body.

• He's kicking and screaming, red in the face as he fights them. But it's no good, they are to strong.

• Armitage has to control himself during your funeral, every instinct in him screaming to not let you go, to fight to bring you back.

• He is much harsher after this, starting arguments more and more with Kylo, and taking every ounce of pain when Kylo throws him across the room with the Force, as if he deserves to be punished.

• He's even trying to goad Kylo into killing him, but the man has a little more restraint than the General had thought.

• Armitage is the most likely to give into his dark depressive thoughts, and take his own life.

• His final thoughts are of you and you alone.

• General Grievous •

• You were his most prized "possession" so to speak, nothing in all of the galaxy meant as much to Grievous as you did.

• "My treasure, no you can't do this, you can't leave me I forbid it!"

• He's killed the man before you even hit the ground, where you lay for mere moments before he's cradling you in his arms.

• He's gentle with you, as he quite literally sprints you to the nearest medical bay.

• "Get out all of you!"

• He barks at the droids, not trusting them to fix what cannot be undone. Certain that he'll be able to save you.

• He's frantic in his attempts to patch you up, almost unaware of the way you gently touch his arm.

• Grievous froze in an instant when you weakly called out his name, his attention now solely on your face, cupping your hand in two of his.

• "What do you need treasure?"

• He asked in a soft voice, ignoring how his voice shook with emotion.

• You simply smiled at him, as if taking in the sight of him was all you cared about in that moment.

• "I-I lo-ve-"

• You tried croaking out, only for your breath to be stolen as you slipped away, dying before his very eyes, trying to declare your love one last time.

• The very ground shook with his scream of despair and heart retching agony.

• From that moment on he took out every ounce of pain and anger at losing you on anyone he deemed a threat.

• Sometimes even on innocent people, who would unknowingly remind him of you.

• He fought dirty and ruthlessly, uncaring if he would get himself killed, or if he would even succeed.

• Grievous also travelled far and wide across the galaxy in an attempt to find some way to bring you back to life.

• He cared not for whatever it might cost, or what he might have to do, who he would have to kill.

• If there is a way he can bring you back, he'll find a way, not matter how long it takes.

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

[anonymous-dentist]

On April 25, Cellbit finds himself crashing onto a tropical island filled with the weirdest goddamn people he's ever met in his life.

(On one side of the glass is Cellbit. On the other is a man in a red hoodie who takes one look at Cellbit and winks before rushing to talk to the other trapped Brazilians.

For a moment, Cellbit swears there's a spark- a literal pink spark in the air directly between the two of them where they had locked eyes, and he swears that the man's eyes glitter the same pink just for a second.

But that's ridiculous. It's probably a concussion. Or something.)

On April 26, Cellbit wakes up to a heavy pain in his chest and back and a foreign weight to his limbs as he tries rolling over in bed. There's a pressure behind his eyes, all... all two of them.

Cellbit's eyelids twitch unhappily as a ray of incoming sunlight hits them from the window.

He hisses, and that's when he notices two very important things:

He doesn't have two eyes. He knows the familiar discomfort of keeping one's eyes closed when they're ready to open, and he can recognize the fact that this discomfort is multiplied by goddamn two. That makes... four eyes.

He isn't in his own bed. He went to sleep without a blanket or a pillow, just his hat and his jacket because, big surprise, spending most of the day in a cave didn't get him any luxuries besides a sore back and a definitely-not-dead child.

Cellbit opens his eyes, all four of them, and he's only a little surprised to see that he is not, in fact, in his own house.

"What?" he croaks.

He grimaces. Sore throat, almost like he'd been screaming in his sleep. Nothing he isn't used to, but it doesn't feel right in this body. In... whoever's body this is.

He pushes himself so that he's sitting up and against the wall. His chest pulls with every movement of his arms, muscles twinging in pain, and it almost reminds him of the War, almost. (He caused wounds like this, anyway. He didn't get hurt like this. He was too good.)

He looks down. Spider-Man boxer briefs. Naked chest, huge scar cut across the middle of it over his heart. Hairy legs, bruised arms and knuckles.

Vaguely, he thinks that he recognizes the house. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe? But he'd only seen the outside, and it would be crazy if his soulmate turned out to be that guy.

But, well. There's only one spider hybrid on the island that Cellbit knows about. Maybe there are more, but he's pretty sure that he met everyone yesterday. (He thinks; he was pretty distracted by the whole what the fuck I have a child now??? thing.)

Cellbit should be happy. And he kinda feels like it, in a distant way. But it's with a sense of numb fear that he grabs Roier's communicator off of the bedside table and opens a new message with... himself? His comm. That Roier has. Because he's in his body. At his house.

[iRoier whispers to Cellbit: I think we have a problem]

-

When Cellbit had finally officially turned 16 years old, Bad sat down in the middle of a warzone and told him that, one of these days, he might wake up in the body of one of his enemies.

"What?" Cellbit had grimaced, blood coating his face and crusting under his nails. "Why? Is that a new origin or something?"

Bad shook his head. "No, you goof. It's a soulmate thing. You know. Soulmates."

And that's when he realized that Cellbit's amnesia really was, in fact, amnesia. Of course he wouldn't have remembered his parents giving him the Soulmate Talk, Cellbit- at the time- didn't believe that he even had parents. ("I was born from blood, and to blood I shall return," he said when Bad tried asking, so Bad stopped bothering after a while.)

And so it fell to BadBoyHalo to give Cellbit the Soulmate Talk.

"When you turn 16, the universe assigns you a soulmate," Bad had explained. "And when you meet that soulmate, you'll both switch bodies with each other overnight. It'll only last 24 hours, though, so it should be fine if you meet your soulmate out here."

Cellbit had blinked, confused. "What? Ew, no."

Because, as romantic as the idea of soulmates sounds, Cellbit was a 16-year-old boy. Why would he give a shit about his soulmate when he could be thinking about, like, blood and violence and stuff.

By the time Cellbit was arrested, he had finally warmed up to the idea of having a soulmate if only because having someone assigned to him by the universe meant that there'd be someone on the outside willing to break him out of prison and help him get his revenge on all the fuckers who had dared try and mess with him while he was in there.

But then, after prison- after everything, Cellbit had realized that maybe he wasn't meant to have a soulmate, after all. Why would he? Why would the universe be so kind as to give him someone to care about who would actually love him back? Who would like him back?

Whoever his soulmate might've been, Cellbit had always hoped that they were dead. They'd be better off dead than stuck with a monster like him.

-

By the time Roier makes it to his own house, the sun is high in the sky and Cellbit has managed to find a a shirt and a pair of shorts to throw on on top of his underwear. (On top of Roier's underwear?)

Bobby is still asleep upstairs, Cellbit thinks. At least, he hasn't heard anything from him. Should he be worried?

But then Cellbit looks out the window and watches his body trip over itself on the dirt and faceplant, and, well, Bobby can wait.

Roier's body is... heavy as Cellbit pulls a pair of shoes on. It doesn't want to cooperate, but that can't be right, it's supposed to be natural. Or something. Cellbit thinks. Maybe.

So he doesn't actually know how soulmates work, but it's supposed to be natural, right? That's how he remembers Bad explaining it, but he also remembers Bad having as much emotional awareness as a rock.

Vaguely, he wonders if the problem isn't with the fact that it's Cellbit being in Roier's body but that it's because it's Roier's body and that this is just how it is for Roier all the time. But that's none of Cellbit's business.

(Yet.)

(Maybe.)

(Eventually?)

(Turn the detective brain off, fuck.)

Whatever!

Cellbit runs out the door and goes to help Roier up. He isn't hurt at all as Roier swears at him and grumbles and pushes himself up onto his knees.

"I'm fine," he insists. "See?"

He gestures towards himself with a sharp-toothed grin, eyes squinted shut, and, wow, it's weird for Cellbit to see himself smile. His body doesn't really... do that. It's unnatural. Kinda creepy, like looking into a fucked-up mirror.

Cellbit offers an awkward smile in response, and it hurts. Not his face, no, his soul. Well, not his soul, because that would be silly, but some weird little part inside his Everything stings and pulses with a dull, throbbing pain so sudden and harsh that his throat chokes up and tears threaten to well up in Cellbit's eyes.

With a shuddering breath, Cellbit drops his smile and his eyes. He looks at the ground, and he says, "Uh. We should talk inside, maybe?"

He doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and walking back into Roier's house. He does hold the door open, though, remembering that Roier's house has that weird security thing on the door that keeps everybody but him out.

"Your legs are too short," Roier complains as he brushes past Cellbit and walks into the house. "I keep tripping over shit."

"...I'm sorry?" Cellbit offers. (He internally smacks himself. No, stupid, why is he sorry? He can't control his genetics, fuck!)

Roier waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. It's just for today, right?"

He sits at his table with a groan, eyes slipping shut and head tilting over the back of the chair. He looks so... calm. Which means that Cellbit's actual real normal face looks calm, and that's weird. He doesn't do calm.

Hesitantly, Cellbit joins him at the table. He sits directly opposite him, leg bouncing nervously, hands clasped in his lap.

And then? Silence. Absolutely nothing but the slight rattle of the table as Cellbit's (Roier's?) knee bumps against it and the quiet sound of snoring from upstairs. (So Bobby is still asleep. That's normal, right?)

Cellbit glances at the goggles still firmly on his body's head.

"Thanks for keeping them on," he lamely says.

Roier hums a question mark and cracks an eye open, following Cellbit's gaze. He smiles, then, small and clearly fake.

"Hey, man, it's fine," he replies. "It kind of hurts, but it's fine."

Cellbit winces. "I mean, you can take them off! It's fine, it's just us."

Roier shrugs, but he doesn't move to take the goggles off.

Quiet again.

This is... fine. It's fine! Cellbit's soulmate is just a guy who probably maybe dislikes him, that's all. It's nothing he wasn't expecting from his soulmate, he knows how he is as a person. Roier is probably just disappointed, that's all.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Cellbit says after a moment.

He looks back down at the table as Roier sits up to look at him.

Cellbit wrings his hands together, fingers hooking together and pulling-pushing and they throb from the bruises, and where did Roier get them, anyway? From the pattern, Cellbit would say Roier had punched something, but here are also small cuts indicating the involvement of glass, and-

(Detective brain. Off.)

"I mean, it's crazy, right?" Cellbit laughs weakly. "Us, soulmates? We don't even know each other."

"I mean, yeah, but that's normal, I think. You don't know your soulmate until you meet them, that's how it works."

"I guess? But-"

"And!" Roier interjects. "I know you better already! You sleep with your sword and you have cat ears, that's more than I know about half of my dates!"

Cellbit winces at the mention of his ears, but he manages to huff out a quiet laugh. He even feels himself smile, though it hurts bad enough for him to force it away after a moment.

"Okay," he breathes, and he looks up to meet Roier's (his own?) eyes. "So... it's fine?"

"What the fuck do you think I've been saying, pendejo?" Roier exclaims. He reaches across the table and lightly taps Cellbit on the forehead between his top set of eyes. "I know my body isn't deaf, so start listening."

He sits again, continuing speaking before Cellbit can say anything:

"I don't know you, and that's fine. You don't know me, and that's fine. You threatened my son yesterday, and that's fine. I'll threaten your son to make it even."

"Hey!" Cellbit protests.

Roier ignores him and keeps talking. "We're stuck on this island, Cellbit. We aren't allowed to leave. If we try, Osito Bimbo shoots us. So that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other."

Cellbit's eyes widen in alarm. "We're what?"

He thinks he remembers somebody mentioning that to him and the others yesterday, but there was so much going on that he didn't really register it. Prison, again? At least it's open-air this time...

Roier shrugs his concerns off with a literal wave of the hand. "So see? It's fine. We'll figure each other out, and then we'll kiss and have sex and stuff. Right?"

"Um," Cellbit stammers, the tips of his ears going red. "Maybe just the kissing part."

"Sure, sure. Point is..." Roier stands out of his chair and leans across the table, reaching down and pulling Cellbit's hands out of his lap. He holds them and looks Cellbit in the eyes and gravely asks, "...Cellbit, will you be my soulmate?"

Cellbit rolls his eyes and gently pulls his hands away. "I don't think I get a choice."

"Aw, come on! You're no fun," Roier pouts.

"There, that's a third thing you know about me."

"Shut up, what the fuck?"

And as the argument continues, the weight in Cellbit's heart slowly starts to lift. Just a little, because it's just the beginning, but maybe... maybe having a soulmate won't be that bad, after all.

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog maaaaaaaybe with a comment or a tag and tell me what you think! Or send an ask, I'm fine with anything!

[mythicalmyles]

Can we get a masky/Tim x reader where he makes jokes about fuckin us but then he actually does it? Please

step father!tim x reader tims p much implied to be demonic of sorts

(reader met tim at 19 is currently 20)

(18+stomach bulging, daddy kink, dubcon, predator/prey(?), voyeurism, minor inflation, feminization )

Being home was usually a relaxing time for you, finally getting away from the stresses on university. Lately though your mum's husband had been setting you on edge, his hands seemed to linger whenever he touched you. He was also pretty gruff and sexual with his humour, most of his words leaving you flushed and fidgeting.

“You look good like that.” Was all Masky muttered after staring at you for five minutes. You had laid down on the floor, legs spread as you huffed and panted after a workout session. Before you could say anything he left the room.

You couldn't deny your mother had spoiled you from the moment she had been born, your belated father being a high paid agent. You had no idea what for but he was always gone and always came back black and blue. You had hardly knew him, the last time you had spoken must have been when you were seven and he called you an idiot for a B you had gotten.

You were indifferent when he died and you hadn't cared much when your mother did remarry, she was her own person and you could kick and scream or accept it. But her husband, your supposed step father was another issue. He had this creepy aura surrounding him, his eyes were always squinted and calculating. He stood almost a foot taller then you with rock hard muscles, you hadn't asked but assumed he worked in constructions. It was the only logical answer your brain could come up with, Tim seemed to like being alone. You did your best to not bump into him.

You couldn't deny your stomach turned whenever you caught him walking out of your fathers old study, your mother had never touched it after he passed.

Somehow every other time you've been showering he's walked in and you stood as frozen as a deer in headlights. He would grumble and walk back out after eyeing you from top to bottom.

You tapped your pen on your notebook, you had one last night to complete and you were done for the year. Instead your head swelled up with fog, eyes distorting text no matter how hard you concentrated. You were sat in your boxers and a loose shirt that still somehow clung to every inch of your torso, the heat of the sun unbearable.

You had barley even noticed Tim creeping up behind you, his hands dropping onto your shoulders had you jolting. Tim held you in place, his thumbs rubbing against the back of your shoulders. All you could do was sit still, red shooting up your neck and over your cheeks. You bit your lip when Tims hands moved to start playing with your nipples.

"You're moms away for a week." Tim's voice was deep and sent shivers up your spine. All you could do was squeak as he pulled your top up and putting it behind your head, pinning your shoulders back and pushing your chest out. "I thought about doing this the last time, but that bitch wouldn't leave." Before you could snap at him he appeared in front of you, grabbing your cheeks and squeezing hard as he held you close to his face.

"What did your dad do?" His eyes were blank and dark, your body beginning to shake as things finally fell into place. He never was here for your mother.

"I-d-don't know!" You choked out, fear flooding you as you looked him in the eyes. Desperately hoping he would understand that you knew nothing. Tim sighed hard, anger clouding his eyes. He barely missed a beat before ripping you off of your chair and slamming you over the counter, your legs trying to kick his torso. "St-stop it, you fre-freak." You groaned out, failing at moving him a single inch.

Tim pulled his belt off, wrapping it around your neck and using the excess to tie your hands up behind your head. Tim ignored your begging, latching onto one of your nipples, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud. You tried your best not to struggle, the belt choking you whenever you extended your arms. Tim let out an exhausted sigh as he stood over you, making you feel small as he glared down at you. "Of course he didn't tell you jack shit." His voice was deep and he sounded pissed.

"Well. We have a week." He suddenly grinned, his change in demeanour setting you on edge. His hands ran up your bare chest, stopping to thumb your nipples. He watched you as you bit your lip and squirmed, trying not to choke yourself and keep yourself silent. "C'mon pretty boy, I've heard you playing with yourself. You moan like a whore." You shook your head, not trusting your voice. Tim chuckled, dragging his hands back down to just above your boxerss. He dug his fingers into your flesh, focused on your shaky breathing.

Tim had your boxers around your thighs before you had time to comprehend what was going on, he wasted no time in pulling them off. He left you bare with only your shirt that was currently thrown behind your neck. You felt incredibly embarrassed under him, the cold counter pressing against your back. His still fully clothed form stood still, watching you wiggle.

He suddenly turned, making his way towards one of the cupboards and pulling out olive oil. He smirked back at you, dark eyes ringed with even darker bags. You felt like you were in a horror movie, just waiting for the big scary monster to snap you in half. "If you be a good boy for daddy, it wont hurt." You felt filthy when your cock twitched, already half hard.

You ignored the sound of him opening the oil and slicking his hands up, he made his way back between your thighs, easily lifting your legs with one arm and pinning them to your chest. "Please, I-I've never.." You blushed while trailing off, looking to the side and away from Tim as best as you could.

Tim's slippery fingers wrapped around your jaw, yanking your vision back to him. "I'll take real good care of you." His hand dropped from your jaw, quickly making its way to your hole. You shuddered as he circled your hole, lightly pressing his finger in and teasing you. You wanted to deny how good it felt, ignore the sirens in your head warning you of danger. It was getting harder to get your thoughts intact when he was sliding a second finger into you, you let out a loud groan as you curled your toes. Tim was rough, but he used a lot of oil. You could feel it running all over your skin, making it easier for Tim to slam his digits deep into you.

"Ah-sto-stop." You cried out when Tim began scissoring his fingers, it caused a sting to run up your spine. "Daddy's got you." Was all he said, his shark like grin looming over you. His fingers were thick and rough, you were grateful for the oil when he began roughly fingering you, leaving you squealing on your back.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, stomach burning as you felt your orgasm stirring. Tim smirked when he felt you clench harder around his digits, your eyes furrowed closed as you prepared yourself. Just as your high was about to come crashing into you, Tim pulled his fingers out.

You couldn't help but cry out in frustration, tears lining your eyes as you looked up at him in desperation. Tim used his last moment of restraint to get his jeans down and his cock out, your eyes bulging once you noticed his size. He was cock was thick and red, he must’ve been hard for a while. Before another thought could run through your head he wash pushing into you, despite his earlier stretching it still burned. It took everything for you not to sob as his cock finally pushed passed your rim. He paused once he had managed to bury half of his cock into you, he licked his lips his hands keeping your thighs up by your ears. He had you completely trapped. His belt dug into your skin, choking you occasionally when your body spasmed.

His fingers dug into tour thighs, his fingers leaving red, angry indents behind.

A scream was ripped from your throat when he suddenly bottomed out inside of you, your wide eyes staring up at the roof as you tried to catch your breath. It felt unbearable how much he filled you up, it felt like it should’ve been impossible with a cock that big. You took deep, sobbing breaths and jolted when Tim suddenly grabbed your face, forcing eye contact.

His hand moved down, wrapping around you neck and letting your leg drop to his shoulder. You let out a strangled gasp with the sudden movement, his cock rubbing against your prostate. Stars appeared in your vision, mouth dropping open in a silent scream when you realised his cock was going to rub up against your prostate with every thrust of his hips. He let your other leg fall to his shoulder, using his now free hand to land a harsh slap to your ass.

You yelped out, moaning loudly when Tim began picking up his speed. “Tell daddy how much you love his cock, be a good boy now.” There was something scary in Tim’s eyes, his face deadpan as he fucked you. “N-no, this is weird. You married m-my-.” He cut you off with a particularly hard thrust, he pulled you up by your neck. He forced you to look at the bulge in your stomach, the sight of his cock ramming into your guts had you sobbing. You couldn’t believe he had really managed to get all of it inside of you, it was inhuman. “M’sorry daddy.” You choked out, his hand not choking you too tight as you watched his cock ramming deep into you.

You could barley feel your own drool leaking out of your mouth, eyes rolled back as Tim assaulted your insides. “Da-daddy please.” You choked out, his cock rubbing against your prostate and sending sparks running throughout your body. You broke down, sobbing when Tim began fucking you at a deliriously inducing pace.

Tim felt himself coming close, the feeling of being wrapped up tight in your insides was driving him to the edge. The sight of you choking and crying, calling him ‘Daddy’ while he fucked you into the counter wasn’t helping. He almost felt feral seeing his cock stretch out your tummy, knowing no one could fuck you like he could. Tim felt himself growl, quickening his pace as he felt himself coming undone.

You could only explain it as being hit by a car, the feeling of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had washed over you, your nails digging into your own flesh as you wailed on Tim’s cock.

Flopped back against the counter gasping, Tim giving you a last few thrusts before cuming deep into you. The feeling of his cum flooding into you was almost intoxicating, mouth dropped as you watched your stomach expand to accommodate Tim’s load.

You felt like jelly, your body felt incredibly heavy as you tried to catch your breath. Tim continued slowly trusting into, watching you intently as his cum came dripping out of your ass. He pressed his hand onto your stomach, your sob causing his cock to twitch inside of you. Suddenly a ringing filled the room, Tim letting out a sigh before pulling his phone out of his sagged jeans. You felt yourself tuning out of the conversation when Tim began slowly thrusting into you, his soft cock still pushing against your prostate.

Suddenly Tim’s thrusts became sharp, your moans echoing the room along with the sound of skin slapping. “I’m just having some fun with Mr (L.Name)’s little son, he’s just the cutest little thing.” Tim roughly thrust into you, your choked out moans easily heard through the phone.

“You wanna play with daddy’s friends?” He smirked, his thrusts getting harsher. You sobbed and shook your head. “D-don’t you da-dare.” You tried to be firm, instead moans slipping out along with your words. Tim’s cock had hardened up again, dragging against your prostate. You could feel cum and oil dripping out of your sensitive hole, every thrust Tim gave seemed to pull out more. Suddenly he pulled out grabbing your hips and pulling you off of the counter. He shoved you over it, the marble cold against your nipples. “Wa-wait. Plea-please.” You sobbed out, two of Masky’s fingers back inside of you. Instead of answering he continued with his conversation on the phone. “I’ve already been here a year, i would’ve found it already.” Masky’s fingers were getting rough, four of them already stuffed into your puffy, abused hole.

Despite the burning pain of overstimulation you couldn’t help the moans that poured from your throat. You found yourself whining and sobbing as your hips twitched. Tim chuckled and untied you from his belt, throwing it of to the side and watching as your numbed arms fell to the counter. He pulled his fingers out, slapping your ass before pushing his thumbs into your hole and stretching it. “God, what a pretty pussy.” You whined at Tim’s words, you could hear voices suddenly speaking from Tim’s phone. You looked over only to sob out once you saw yourself on camera, Tim’s equally scary looking friends peering back at you.

Tim spat into your hole, pushing his thumbs deeper into your hole. You could feel your entire body shaking. “I got a pretty little cock slut here, she’s got a real cute pussy.” Your voice was high when you argued back, tears in your eyes. Instead you were met with a chorus of laughs.

“Should dress him up, get him in a skirt.” You tried not to react to the voice coming from the phone, instead you twisted your lips together. “This part of the deal then? We help you, you let us fuck cutie there?” Your eyes doubled, shooting to look back at Tim. “Yeah, if you want. He’ll be here. He’s nice ‘n weak.” You wanted to hate what they were saying, trying to pretend you weren’t close to cuming despite Tim’s now lazy pace. Their words had you involuntarily squeezing around Tims fingers are grinding yourself back against them, whining as you felt your nipples dragging across the marble. Images of rough hands playing with your nipples and ass had you spilling over, screaming as you came hard.

“Thats my good boy.” Tim smirked as he patted your ass.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part 11)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought

.All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Azriel's pov.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glare of the morning sun streaming in through the window.

He always had his windows and blinds shut so no light would disturb his rare slumber. Why weren't the blinds closed?

He turned his head away, trying to turn away, but he froze when he realised there was something heavy on his chest. He blinked his eyes open cautiously. He knew it wouldn't be anything dangerous, because if it was, his shadows would have woken him up a long time ago.

When he realised what– who– it was, his heart skipped a beat.

There, on his chest lay his wife's head, her features incredibly softened. Her hand was gently draped over his abdomen.

He stared at the female. He always knew she was beautiful, but now he could actually see every small detail on her face. He hadn't noticed them till now because he had never been so close to her before, and if he stared for too long, he was afraid he'd offend her in some way or creep her out. And he didn't want that.

He lifted his hand to push back that strand of hair on her face that seemed to have a problem staying in place. He didn't pull his hand back though. He caressed her hair, staring at her closed eyes and her lips. Her nose and cheeks. Azriel was fascinated to say the least.

Y/n's brow furrowed, and Azriel pulled his hand back, holding still as she shifted. She pulled away from him, only to rest her head on his bicep, giving him space to turn onto his side. So he did, still studying her features.

He tried to not touch her, but his hand and mind were not on speaking terms, it seemed. His fingers ghosted over the arch of her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, the dip on her chin.

Now he knew why he had slept so peacefully and deeply for the first time in such a long time.

As he did all that again, his mind wandered.

•○🌑○•

He had reached the camp that he and Y/n had been born in within moments of leaving the House of Wind at dusk, having winnowed there. He had stopped to get some of the supplies he would need before flying the rest of the way.

When he reached the camp, he stashed the supplies he'd bought in his shadows and began the long work of sneaking narrow eyed females and their children out of the camp. He had planned to return before dinner, but convincing the females had been harder than he thought and took longer than anticipated.

But once he was done, he had wrapped his shadows around himself and started the work of drenching the whole place in the flammable material the male from the shop had given him. He flew quietly and swiftly with the huge can in his hands, making sure he wasn't making any sounds.

When he did that too, he started the fire and watched the camp burn down.

He knew the pain. How it burned. How it felt as if death would be a more peaceful option. How skin practically melts of the bones.

So when the screams started, he smiled.

He smiled as the wails and ear splitting shrieks filled the night air.

And then he went in search of the males he hated above all.

He walked through the heat of the fire, cautious of the flames and searched for his childhood home, if it could even be called that.

There they were, trying to get away from the flames that encircled them so that they could spread their wings to fly away.

He stared at the three men, his father and stepbrothers, trying frantically to search for a way out. He stared as one of his brother's hands caught fire and he screeched, the other's wings burning, his father's clothes turning to ash with the flames. Azriel smiled all the while.

And maybe that made him a sadistic bastard, but he was the Spymaster of Night Court. Being sadistic came with the position.

And then, his father looked up and froze, recognition lighting his eyes after a moment.

"Azriel." He whispered, but Azriel heard it clearly, as clearly as if he had spoken in his ear.

"Hello. Father." He added as a second thought. His brothers looked up, stopping mid scream.

"Shit." One of them continued screaming.

"How does it feel?" Azriel asked. He was enjoying this too much.

"You are our brother. Please save us. We were so worried about you when you left." The older one pleaded.

Azriel raised his brows. "Why would I save you and let all my efforts go to waste?"

They blanched even more. "You–you started the fire?"

"Who else would do that?"

"Azriel, son. Please, give us one more chance. I promise we will show you how much we care about you–"

"You can show the Mother that. When–if she blesses you with her presence in the afterlife. I highly doubt that, though." With that, Azriel turned on his heel, going to hunt down Y/n's father.

"Please, stop! Come back! We'll do anything you ask!"

Azriel paused. "Anything?"

"Yes! Anything!"

"Hmm. Tell me where Y/n's father lives."

"Y/n? Who is that?"

"The girl you promised me to."

"Oh that man lives in that house." His father pointed towards a house nearby.

"Alright. Thank you for the assistance." Azriel continued on towards the house his father had indicated.

"Wait! Where are you going?! Help us!"

"Again, why would I do that?"

"You said..."

"I never promised anything, father. You assumed."

He chuckled to himself as he heard profanities and curses being spewed at him.

He kicked open the door to the burning house he had been pointed to, and found Y/n's father lying down, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, his face and clothes damp with sweat. "Father in law. How are you doing."

Azriel didn't necessarily want the answer to that. He couldn't care less about it.

"S–son. Save me..."

Azriel smiled. "What do you think I am here for?"

•○🌑○•

He surprised himself with the satisfaction he got by doing that. He never thought that inflicting the same pain he had endured that made him hate his hands on others would be something he could be proud of.

Nonetheless, he was satisfied. Which was very concerning, but as long as it made his wife happy, he would burn down the whole of Prythian.

He ran his fingers through her hair, then realised she was staring at him. He froze.

"How long have you been staring at me?" He asked.

She huffed. "Don't you think I should be the one asking that?"

"Well, I asked first. You must answer."

"Hmm. Since you turned this way. May I ask what you were fantasising about that you didn't notice I was awake?"

He smirked, moving to sit up. "Trust me darling, you'd rather I show it to you." He whispered in her ear before standing. She gaped at him, looking furious. He knew it was all fake.

As soon as he turned away from her, a pillow smacked the back of his head and he chuckled. He picked the clothes he'd worn before his night clothes and waved at her as he walk out the door.

But he paused before closing the door behind him. He poked his head in, opening his mouth. But then he just stared.

There on the bed, she was sitting. Smiling widely at her hands and shaking her head. She looked to the balcony and bit her lip, lost in thought before moving to stand up. He smiled too, before finally interrupting the daydream she was having.

"Hey professional pillow thrower?" She whipped towards him with a gasp. "Lunch today?"

She blinked, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Sure."

"See you soon then. I mean, take your time smiling at the walls. I won't mind." He ducked away and closed the door before the pillow she threw at him again could land its mark.

Grinning, he turned to walk to his room. Then he stopped in his tracks when he found Cassian leaning against a wall nearby, his arms wrapped over his chest, wiggling his brows.

Azriel continued walking, trying to ignore the knowing look on his brother's face. "Shut up." He muttered when he passed by Cass.

"But I said nothing!" Unfortunately, Cassian followed Azriel to his room. "Though I can't help but wonder, are you skills gone or something? I heard nothing last night. No moans and groans and your name being screamed–"

Azriel shoved the bundle of clothes he had in his hands in Cassian's face before slamming the door in his face. He could hear Cassian's boisterous laugh through the door, and honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if the whole of Velaris heard it.

"Take her to a good place brother! For lunch I mean!" Cassian said through the door before his steps retreated.

Azriel huffed, but couldn't stop the smile that made its way onto his face. He leaned his head against the door, grinning before smacking his forehead and making his way to the bathing room.

•○🌑○•

Part 12

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714 @bunnymallowo @ivy-34 @aria-chikage @kalulakunundrum