#he wants to help everyone. every child every man every woman everyone. he wants to help the good and the bad in the hope that the bad will

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (23/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, nightmares, speaking about trauma ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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That night he slept vigilantly – he was awakened by her every movement, her uneven breath, the creak of the bed beneath her body. He held her close and did not let her out of his embrace fearing that again, led by some dark, cruel dream, she would try to do what he had witnessed.

It was only when he saw her standing over the edge of the precipice that he understood what her disappearance would mean: that with her he would lose the part of himself that she had managed to reawaken.

He tried, he made an effort, he changed for her, because he knew that she would see it, that she would appreciate it, that she would tell him, as she always did, that she understood him.

She was the first person to praise him out loud – there was something humbling about how much he craved it, whether from his mother's, his father's, Aegon's, Sylvi's or Criston's lips.

Everyone he had somehow allowed to cross the line and know some part of himself.

However, it was only she who was able to do it in the way he needed – not pitying him, not treating him like a child, but simply trying to comprehend what he was facing, why some things were difficult for him while others were groundbreaking.

He realised that she never demanded anything of him: she never asked him to marry her, she never asked him to send her home, she never asked him to become more open.

She always waited patiently, with a strange, partly incomprehensible understanding, showing him that it was simply his nature.

With her, he stopped being ashamed of himself: of who he was and who he wasn't, what he lacked, what he had lost, what mistakes he had made.

Because of her, he forgave himself.

He had found peace.

And now, that peace was about to disappear with her.

He swallowed hard at the mere memory and snuggled her tighter into him, embracing her more firmly in his arms. He heard her quiet mutter, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt, her cheek pressed against his chest.

His thoughts fled to what she had said, to what she had seen in her dream – him with another woman, his betrayal, the greatest humiliation she could have experienced on his part as his wife.

He could not comprehend why she thought he could fail her trust in this way, break the oath he had taken before the gods themselves, hurt her while she was helping him heal his wounds.

Even if she were only his lover, he wouldn't want another – he would not be able to open himself up again, to allow someone into his heart and mind, much less at the cost of losing her.

You are my only friend.

And you are mine, he thought, stroking her hair slowly, exactly as she had asked him to do.

She combined everything he wanted, allowing him to take care of herself so that he could feel like a man, while at the same time caring for him, giving him space, so that sometimes, but only sometimes, when he felt weak, he could become a little boy in her arms.

There was something liberating in that thought – in the conviction that his grandfather was right, and that his affection for her could slowly blossom, giving him more strength every day.

He wanted her to be sure of his fidelity and devotion, just as he was sure of hers.

He knew that this alone would give her peace of mind.

To his satisfaction, she stopped pretending not to see him – when she asked him early in the morning if he would help her with her bath and be by her side, he immediately agreed.

He would never have thought he would so willingly step into the role of a servant of sorts – while she sat in the bath in her nightgown, sunk up to her chin in warm water full of fragrant oils, he gently rubbed her arms and hands with a damp cloth.

There was something intimate about this moment, some attempt of reconciliation, of staying together despite all that had happened.

He didn't tell her about what went on behind closed doors – he didn't tell her that his grandfather was delighted with what she had accomplished, that he, Criston and Gwayne were planning to conquer the Eyrie before Rhaenyra could recover from another loss and move on them.

Deprived of Daemon and Rhaenys, she was like a lion without fangs and claws – even new dragon riders could not replace the experience and bond they had with Caraxes and Meleys.

Otto felt, and he agreed, that the kingdom should hear that it was he, not his wife, who had killed Daemon – this was not to give him credit for it, although it certainly helped him as Prince Regent, but above all – in his eyes – it was to protect her from accusations that would be damaging to her.

Namely, that she was a kinslayer.

Word that she had killed her father, committing, like him, a sin unkind to the gods would spread like the wind, preventing her from getting rid of the remorse that was already overwhelming her.

He preferred everyone to think it was he who had killed his uncle.

He was already cursed in the eyes of others anyway, so what he had done would no longer matter.

Daemon's death raised the morale of the army: his soldiers celebrated all the next day after he announced the news. He guessed that his wife heard them, grieving, but he could not forbid them from doing so; he stood between the hammer and the anvil.

To his satisfaction, it turned out that both Cole and Gwayne were men showing enough sensitivity to understand his wife's condition: her help was still needed by them, but it was clear that forcing her to do anything would turn against them.

They had to wait patiently for her to return to balance, in the meantime planning every next step.

The fact that she was carrying his child pleased him, but it also made things even more complicated.

No one but him, Maester and her knew about it.

"I remember more and more. From the time I was a child." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, her face flushed from the warm steam that floated around them, her long, dark hair tied back to keep it from getting wet.

He sighed quietly, his thumb running over the moist skin of her wrist.

"And what do you see?" He asked, though he guessed what her answer would be.

"My father. The way my mother spoke to him and about him. She told me once…" she muttered and fell silent, lowering her gaze as if ashamed and heartbroken, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"… she said something that I think was the source of my age-old resentment towards your lineage. She said that the Targaryens have strange customs. That fathers take their daughters to their bed. I think that's why I repressed all my memories of my father embracing me, touching me, kissing me on the forehead. The thought that he wasn't doing it out of fatherly love, but out of sick, disgusting lust, terrified me. She destroyed his image in my eyes because she hated him herself. But now that I think about it, he never touched me in a wrong way. He never even tried."

She whispered, finally looking up at him, as if begging him to confirm her words, to tell her that she was right even though he had not witnessed the events.

He swallowed hard, realising that he often forgot that what his family had been doing for generations was ordinary only for them, but not for people from the outside.

"Marriages in our family happen between relatives, but never between parents and children or grandparents and grandchildren. That would be unacceptable." He replied calmly.

Her fingers clenched on his hand, as if she was wordlessly trying to convey to him that she needed him now more than ever.

"But after all, there were rumours of my father taking Rhaenyra, his niece, to a brothel long before she became his wife. She was still a little girl then." She muttered in a breaking voice.

He lowered his gaze, not knowing what he should reply to these words.

"I've heard about it too, but as you say, it's gossip. I didn't hold any love for him, but I can't say with certainty if or what he did to her at the time. I'm no saint myself." He confessed, finally looking up at her.

She blinked, staring at him with surprise bordering on horror, as if his confession frightened her.

"What do you mean?"

He felt his jaw clench in an unpleasant shudder of discomfort at the thought of what he had done to her.

"I have used you. I did it deliberately for months."

He fell silent, unable to look into her eyes – it was only when he said the words aloud that it occurred to him what he had actually done to her.

"You didn't force me. I agreed to it." She whispered.

"Did you?" He asked, looking at her finally. "Do you think my pride would have endured your refusal, your rejection? That I wouldn't do anything to you?"

She swallowed loudly, looking at him with some kind of worry – her lips pursed into a thin line as she took his hand in hers.

"And you? Do you think I really had any desire to lose my maidenhood with some servant? That I didn't want you to take his place? I didn't know you, nor did you know me. For a long time it was a game, yours and mine. But at some point I no longer knew what was a lie and what was the truth. I began to miss you by day and looked forward to falling asleep in your arms at night. The more I got to know you, the more I longed to stay by your side."

He didn't know why his lower lip was quivering, why he felt a burning wetness under his eyelid, why his throat was squeezed with emotion.

What he couldn't comprehend was the ease with which she was able to understand him and his decisions, as if it didn't require any effort on her part – the knowledge that she never resented him, that she was partially aware of what he was doing and consented to it made him think that perhaps it had to be that way.

That it was somehow their joint decision.

A shared effort to understand who they were, what they craved and why they kept returning to each other.

"I ask you to forgive me." He whispered, clasping his fingers over hers, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Forgive me for who I was when you met me.

Who I still am when you are not by my side.

"I too ask for your forgiveness." She replied softly, making him feel a pleasant warmth spread across his chest.

The reciprocation.

"I forgive you." He said.

"I forgive you too." She replied and smiled lightly, sincerely, for the first time since those events.

She shifted towards him with a quiet splash of water, and he did the same – he sighed with some kind of relief when her face pressed against his cheek, when her scent filled his lungs, when her full lips placed a warm, wet, tender kiss on his hot skin.

He closed his eye, focusing on that pleasurable touch, his fingers involuntarily stroking her hair, her neck, her jaw, his words against her ear like a whisper.

"I regret that I didn't meet you sooner. That it wasn't the warmth of your body, the moisture of your lips that I experienced for the first time as a young boy. That our fathers did not betroth us the day you came into this world." He spoke quietly, tracing the tip of his nose over the soft, smooth structure of her plump, pink cheek.

He felt her hands tighten on his tunic, her breath caught in her throat as her thighs involuntarily clenched under the water.

His erection pulsed hard in his breeches.

It seemed to him that ages passed before her face slowly turned towards him, before her lips found his, teasing him merely, not giving him full kisses, but only a foreshadowing, an encouragement, a promise of what he wanted so badly.

He pressed her against his body, unable to contain himself, sinking greedily into her soft, wet flesh – his hand clenched in her hair, preventing her from escaping his slick tongue as it burst deep into her throat.

She moaned into his mouth and it was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever made – he involuntarily smiled, feeling lighter as her arms embraced his neck, as her lips parted, allowing him to continue.

They had never kissed like this before – so slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. They concentrated on making their lips unite completely, the quiet clicks of their saliva accompanying their every flick. His fingers stroked the skin of her face, her neck and her hair more gently than ever before, as if any sudden movement on his part might suddenly startle her.

"– I miss you – in every way –" He breathed out between one kiss and the next, embarrassed by his desperate confession, which he would not have dared to make in the presence of any other woman.

He knew, however, that she would not mock him.

That she would understand him.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, her knuckles running over the line of his jaw.

"– I miss you too –"

Her body beneath him was wet and warm. It seemed to him that they were two parts of one whole – before he did what he so desperately craved, he simply admired the way she looked.

He marvelled at how her breasts had begun to change – through the baby in her womb they had become fuller, plumper, like a ripe fruit.

He leaned over her bare skin, placing wet, lazy kisses around her nipple, finally closing his lips around it. She moaned as he began to tease it with the tip of his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive spot – he knew she loved it when he did that – her hands always pressed him closer to her chest, exactly like now, asking for more.

His hand slid slowly down her waist, to her hip, finally finding its way between her thighs. The tips of his fingers ran over her silky womanhood, collecting the moisture that had managed to leak out of her, merely brushing her hot skin. He felt her body shudder as her legs involuntarily spread wider, consenting to whatever he wanted to give her.

For some reason, he felt as if this was their first time – perhaps because they were completely different people than when he had taken her to his bed.

She remained his prisoner, and he had complete power over her, treating her body as something that belonged to him for the sake of a strict, eternal law, the essence of a woman as one who could not oppose a man.

This time, however, feeling the skin of her soft breasts melt under his lips, sinking his fingers into her sticky, fleshy folds, running them around her little bud, he felt like a young boy exploring a woman's body for the first time.

There was something reassuring about the way she just let him do it, combing through his long, white hair with her fingers, breathing softly, clearly taking pleasure in how slow and precise his caresses were.

Now, lying beneath him, she was truly his little sister, his future wife, betrothed to him from the day she was born, created to be only his.

There was something beautiful about this vision, he thought as his middle finger pushed against her tight, throbbing entrance – she gasped, clenching her fingers against his naked back, but neither she nor her body offered him any resistance.

"– lēkia – I want you inside me –" She mumbled with difficulty, as if ashamed and bitter that she wanted this so badly, that, although she wanted to prolong this state of sweet tension, she was unable to hold out any longer.

His long-fully hard manhood twitched and pressed against her thigh, expressing his irresistible desire to do exactly what she asked.

He released her nipple from between his lips with a quiet click, lifting his face higher, placing a warm, loud kiss on her cheek – he felt her fingers run over his jaw, neck and chest as he grasped his erection in his palm and directed it to her slit. They both sighed when they felt the closeness of their bodies as, with a slow, patient movement of his hips, he opened her for himself and froze in this position.

Her insides were moist and warm, exactly as he remembered – his forehead pressed against hers as they embraced each other tightly, her breasts clinging to his torso in sudden need of closeness.

For a moment he simply looked at her, breathing loudly along with her.

They both sighed with a low, surprised moan as he involuntarily stretched her fleshy walls wider on his erection, sinking deeper into her – her hands slid down from his bare back to his buttocks, stroking them in some comforting, tender gesture.

I love you, he thought, placing a hot, moist kisses on her plump lips, letting his entire manhood deep inside her body – the experience was a kind of epiphany, something from which there was no turning back.

She sighed softly into his throat, reciprocating the lazy, sweet caresses of his lips as he began to sink into her with tentative, light thrusts, again and again disappearing into the familiar, the good, the safe.

They embraced tighter, looking directly into each other's eyes and it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced – he usually avoided a woman's gaze, even hers, afraid of what he would see in it.

Sadness as in his mother's eyes, compassion as in Sylvi's, sorrow as in Helaena's.

However, his hāedar's eyes told him something different – in her gaze he saw pain, loss, longing, pleading, all that he felt deep inside himself.

They both moaned, panting louder and louder as her hips began to sway to the rhythm of his thrusts, reaching out to join him again.

"– you're so warm –" He exhaled wearily, ashamed to hear his voice break.

He wasn't sure why he'd said it – he wanted to say so many other things right now, but he couldn't.

These words seemed natural to him, sincere, coming from the depths of his heart – the outside world was cruel, vicious, cold, and her body was full of warmth, softness, smooth as silk.

They embraced closer and snuggled into each other, stroking each other's hair and faces, kissing slowly and unhurriedly, deeply, tenderly, in a way that deep down he had dreamed of.

He wasn't sure if he was usually a rough, sometimes even harsh lover because he wanted to, or because it gave him confidence, allowing him to keep his face and dignity.

There's more dignity in this, he thought, speeding up his movements, letting their bodies slam against each other loud and fast with sticky splats of their naked skin, listening to their grunts and sighs filled with pleasure.

For some reason he felt more like a human, more like a man, more like himself than he ever had, with his long hair loose falling over her face, without an eye patch covering his eye, completely bare not only with his body, but also with his mind.

He showed her what he hadn't even shown Sylvi.

He showed her that he was capable of affection, capable of longing, capable of suffering because of another person.

He was weak.

But by her side it didn't matter.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as she inevitably neared her peak, tears of relief ran down her face, a quiet, girlish cry of delight broke from her lips as the sweet convulsion of fulfilment shook her body.

She was beautiful in her vulnerability.

"– hāedar –" He gasped out – his fingers clamped down on the sheet as he groaned low, clenching his eyelids, finally coming inside her, feeling the sudden, wonderful shivers surging through his body, the sweet pulsing in his erection, which at last experienced release.

He sighed loudly as he simply lay on top of her, careful, however, not to crush her with the weight of his body – they embraced with their arms and continued like this, breathing heavily in the silence of the chamber.

He closed his eyes when he felt her lips place a warm, tender kiss on the top of his head and involuntarily smiled, feeling like a little boy again.

At last, after so many years of anguish, he was truly loved by someone.

[balkanradfem]

So I've been looking to read some books about living in nature, written by women, to get an idea of how it goes in practice, and the first book I found was 'The Great Alone' by Hannah Kirstin. It was about a family who decided to move to Alaska and live self-sufficiently, and it was written from the point of view of the daughter, Leni. I did not realize right away that this was a piece of fiction! However I do want to tell you about this book because something very specific happened in it that made me have.. ideas.

Right on the first page, it was spelled out to me clearly that this is a story about domestic violence. The father was drinking, had ptsd from war, sometimes 'blew up', and I was like, oh, I know what that is. Okay, let's see what happens then.

The father decided to move them all to Alaska because a buddy who died in the war left him a cabin there, and he wasn't earning money to pay rent, so Alaska it is. He talked his wife into it, promising that he will 'be better over there', and I'm like yeah sure you will.

I have to say, at the beginning this book was just heavily enabling me. They went over to Alaska and everyone was saying 'you need to prepare for winter immediately', even though it was spring, and they were bewildered. People were coming to help them to build a garden and homesteading infrastructure. And I'm looking at that like hell yeah I'm already 100% introduced to this, I am prepairing my garden from January, as soon as spring hits I am looking for food to can, dry, cure, I'm filling my stash from the moment cherries arrive. I'm certified to live in nature. (I'm not, I'm just entertaining myself with this fiction).

Alaskan winter is long and dangerous, and somehow these folks were already at the end of their food stash by the end of January, which is so early. They were in trouble, had no money, it was cold, Alaskan winter also brings 18 hours of darkness a day, so everyone was bummed and anxious. As you can imagine, the father found himself some alt-right conspiracy theorists to hang out there and drink with, every day they were talking about the government or minorities 'coming for their land' and prepairing to shoot people at the moment's notice, so it's no wonder he became more violent, aggressive and dangerous to his wife and child. He would end up beating his wife, and she would forgive him, and the daughter watching all this felt insane and desperate to save her mother. But there was no help, no police, nobody could even reach them in the deep winter, they had no food, they relied on him to catch something in the forest.

This is where the story got interesting. 

He breaks her nose, and the daughter decides that's enough, takes her mother into the car, and they escape. They crash. Daughter seeks help. They end up in a hospital. Father finds them and cries and promises to never do it again. Mother forgives him, seemingly out of fear that he's going to start killing people if she leaves him. Alaskan folk now know that she is being abused, because of her bruises and broken nose. And something unexpected happens.

One of the first Alaskan characters introduced in the story is Large Marge, a big woman owning a shop where she trades food and other survival goods. She is strong, resourceful, down to earth, incredible, helpful in every possible way. She is our star. Because once the word is out about the abuse, and the domestic violence family is back in the cabin, she comes over. She tells them all to sit the hell down, like she's a parent sorting out her unruly children. She then tells this story:

'I used to be a lawyer. Big city prosecutor. High heels and designer suits. I loved it. And I loved my sister, who married the man of her dreams. Only he turned out to have a few problems. A few quirks. Turned out he drank too much and liked to use my baby sis as a punching bag. I tried everything to get her to leave him, but she refused. Maybe she was scared, maybe she loved him, maybe she was as sick and broken as he was. I know that when I called the police it was worse for her and she begged me not to do it again. I backed off. Biggest mistake of my life. He went after her with a hammer. We had to have a closet-casket funeral. He claimed he'd taken the hammer from her to protect himself. The law isn't kind to battered women. He's still out there. Free. I came up here to get away from all that.“ She looked at the abuser. ''And here you are.''

The tension was insane. Everyone tried to get a word in, but she shut then down, and then she looked at the abuser again. ''We've talked about your situation here, we have a few solutions, but really, our favourite one is where we take you out and kill you.''

And I am reading this like oh my god. That's the freaking solution. It doesn't need to be that complicated. We just need someone who is 100% done with this shit who takes him out and shoots him. Problem solved. You hit your wife? Out and shot. Bye loser. Nobody losing sleep over you anymore.

I would love to tell you that she did take him out and shoot him, of how would I love to tell you that. I prayed it would happen as soon as the option was presented to me. However she told him he is either being taken out and shot, or he is leaving, getting a job and then providing money for his wife and daughter, and not returning until the spring comes again, which, he agreed to, since the alternative was to be taken out and shot. But I was still saying we should shoot him. She then decided to stay with the mother and daughter to keep them safe and fed during the winter. Like the hero she fucking is.

So, I haven't read this entire book yet, this is the middle of it, I have to go back and read the other half in order to know what happened next, but, I love this, I love the author, I love the representation of domestic violence and cycle of abuse, and how it is to be a female child in this situation, I love Large Marge, I love the resolution she provides, we need her, someone please, put her in reality. I want to be her, I want to barge into people's home and make death threats to abusers. To randomly stumble on a book like this is incredible to me. Thank you women for writing books. I love you all.

[martyrbat]

something about bruce and his bleeding heart where he's always going to offer his hand out to help. even if he knows they'll bite it and draw blood, even if he knows they'll betray his trust—he cant NOT take that chance because of the very small possibility that this will finally be the forgiving gesture that actually changes someone for the better. its hard to trust, its hard to take that risk again and again, its hard to believe in the possibility of every person being able to do good and change for the better. but its even harder to not love someone enough to not be willing to take that chance.

[euthymiya]

camera roll — ft. ryomen sukuna

sukuna doesn’t appreciate how often his annoying little nephew comes over and takes up your time���until you share a few pictures of you and him to little yuuji. maybe the runt’s starting to grow on him

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au/modern au ; established relationship ; uncle sukuna and nephew yuuji ; mentions of itadori jin and kaori ; mentions of reader wearing heels and being carried by sukuna ; sukuna being a terrible influence to children (and being a softie on the low)

Sukuna doesn’t like children. They’re little troublemakers. They’re nuisances. They take up space and cause chaos. They whine. They cry and kick and scream. They don’t pay bills and eat away at your wallet. They’re clingy and talk a lot. They don’t have jobs and never contribute to the economy. The list goes on.

(You like to point out this mindset is just a byproduct of his upbringing, and that he should heal. He thinks that’s a load of bullshit. He grew up just fine. He doesn’t need to heal from anything—he’s just right. Kids are weird and unsettling).

Yuuji is no exception. The kid is an irritating spawn of his brother—they even have the same smile. Too happy, too nice, too talkative, and too bubbly. So what if Yuuji is his nephew? He doesn’t have to enjoy the runt’s company just because he’s family. (You like to really put emphasis on the family part).

And you’re persistent. You invite the little runt over every chance you get. You always agree to babysitting so his brother can have his date nights and spend quality time with that equally as annoying wife of his. (It’s Jin’s fault for not thinking things through. If he just kept it in his pants, he could easily find time to have dates and spend time with his lousy wife, but no. He decided to knock up the woman and make it Sukuna’s problem too).

It’s an eyesore to say the least to walk into his living room and see a small, useless child curled up in your lap, taking his place where he should be resting his head, and giggling to yourselves.

Irritating. Nauseating. So outright infuriating.

Sukuna hates kids.

“And that’s uncle ‘Kuna and me at the beach,” you grin, “see that castle? He helped me build it. Don’t tell him I told you that, though or he’ll eat me.”

“Woah,” Yuuji gasps, staring in awe at the photo in your phone. Sukuna’s eye twitches. You promised not to tell anyone he helped you build that stupid sand castle. He just wanted you to be quiet when you kept whining for his help. “Uncle ‘Kuna’s got big muscles!”

“Yeah, he does,” you nod, grinning. You swipe through a few more photos before stopping at another one. Yuuji’s eyes bulge even wider. “See? That’s him at the gym. Sometimes I go and watch him. Doesn’t he look so strong?”

“Uh huh,” the kid nods furiously. “He’s so cool,” he adds, voice laced in admiration.

Well, at least the runt has a brain. He definitely didn’t get it from his father, but it’s there. That’s a start.

“And that’s us on our first anniversary. See how sweet your uncle is? He’s carrying me to the car because my feet were hurting.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. He told you those shoes would hurt your feet, and then your whining would make it his problem. Evidently everyone he surrounds himself with likes to make things his issue to deal with. And he was right—you did end up whining about those damn heels. (They did make your legs look good, he’ll admit that much. But still, you didn’t need to go through the trouble of wearing them only to bugging him with your complaining. He finds your legs hot regardless of what shoes you wear).

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s so nice,” Yuuji nods, giggling before he looks up at you, poking a chubby finger into your cheek and says, “so pretty!”

“Aw Yuuji,” you grin, “aren’t you the sweetest little man?”

You lean in and press an attack of kisses to the brat’s cheeks. Sukuna crosses his arms and glares at the way the runt laughs in glee at your affection. Who does he think he is, feeling your lips on his skin?

Once you settle down, you pull him flush against your chest again, back pressed to you as an arm wraps around his tiny frame, holding him close.

“Look, this is when we went on our first vacation! See how your uncle likes to sleep on my chest? He says he hates cuddling but he’s a liar.”

“Lies are bad!” Yuuji gasps, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod seriously, “super bad. You’ll always tell the truth right Yuuji? Don’t be like your mean uncle, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, nodding like he means it.

If it was up to him, Sukuna would grab the kid off your lap and set him out on the streets to find his own way home. How dare the brat sit on his couch with his girlfriend and act holier than him?

And it’s not a lie. Sukuna thinks cuddling is stupid. Using your chest is a pillow isn’t cuddling, it’s getting comfortable. You’re the liar.

“And see this one? That’s us having a picnic. You know your uncle ‘Kuna surprised me with that? He can be really sweet, y’know. He just likes to pretend he’s all tough.”

Yuuji giggles again—and then his eyes land on Sukuna at the entrance of the living room, brightening at the sight of him.

Great. He’s been spotted. Just want Sukuna needed after a long day of work. More annoying people.

“It’s uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points his pudgy little finger at him before waving a tiny hand. “You’re back!”

“And you’re still here,” Sukuna’s eyes narrow, “why?”

“That’s no way to greet your nephew, Sukuna,” you scold, earning an eye roll from your boyfriend.

He trudges over, (carefully) pushing Yuuji to scoot over on your lap so he can lay his head where it rightfully belongs on your legs and settle on the couch. He sighs and closes his eyes as your fingers gently weave through his hair.

“Had a long day at work, I don’t need this brat still taking up my space. Tell ‘im to pay bills if he wants to stay so bad.”

“Oh c’mon, he’s been waiting for you all day,” you grin, “haven’t you Yuuji?”

“Uh huh!” The runt nods, leaning down to hover over Sukuna’s face. He opens an eye, peering up at the kid as Yuuji pokes a finger at his cheek. “Wanna play?”

“No,” he grumbles, pretending to bite at the finger.

Yuuji shrieks, pulling it away quickly and earning a low chuckle from Sukuna while you glare.

“Hey!” You scold, “you be nice to—”

“Again! Again!” Yuuji laughs brightly, holding a finger to hover over Sukuna’s lips. You blink and so does he, staring at the child before Sukuna’s lips curl into a small, smug grin.

“If you say so, ya runt.”

He snaps at the tiny finger Yuuji holds over his lips again, this time getting in a (gentle) nibble that makes the child squeal and laugh brightly.

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s gonna eat me,” he laughs.

“S’right, I’ll eat ya like you’re dinner. So quit comin’ over, you wretched brat.”

Yuuji, as innocent and hopeful as a little child is supposed to be, takes Sukuna’s smirk as a sign his uncle is happy to play. So he crawls off your lap, plopping himself to sit on Sukuna’s chest and smile happily down at him while you coo at the sight.

“Oh my gosh, he’s too cute! Sukuna don’t even think about moving—I’m getting a picture. Jin will love it!”

“Don’t take a fuckin’ pic—”

“Do not curse in front of a child!” You follow your scolding with a smack at his head, making him grunt angrily.

“I swear if you get a damn photo of—”

Click.

The sound of your phone’s camera going off cuts him off, silencing him with a wicked glare he sends up at you from your lap. It’s not so menacing when you take in the fact that his hand has securely planted itself at the base of Yuuji’s back, keeping him from falling over.

Sukuna hates children—he reminds you of this fact constantly. He has a soft spot for his little nephew, though. You don’t point it out so he can keep his facade up for his sense of dignity, but you know the facts.

Yuuji’s favorite snacks are stocked up in the cabinets for his arrival today—and you certainly haven’t had a chance to grocery shop this week. A small, tiny little inkling tells you that your boyfriend is developing something of a soft spot for his nephew.

“Look Yuuji,” you grin at the small child, ruffling his hair as you turn your phone to face him, “it’s you and uncle ‘Kuna! Your very own picture together! Isn’t that nice?”

“Yay!” He claps, eyes crinkling excitedly as he smiles happily at the picture.

Sukuna’s eyes soften just a bit before he’s back to frowning, a grumpy crease of his forehead as he huffs.

“I’m sick of this darn brat.”

————— bonus —————

“Fuck!” Yuuji says as he drops his sippy cup.

Sukuna freezes, eyes quickly darting over to you from the sink where he’s washing the dishes. You stop, stilling where you’re clearing the table. Your hand pauses mid air from its path to pick up glass, head slowly turning to look over at the child.

“Yuuji,” you say slowly, “where did you learn that word?”

He better not—Sukuna stares holes into the kid’s head. The runt better not rat him out or he really will eat him. Maybe even do worse. He’d better keep his annoying little mouth shut before—

“Uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points to Sukuna, as if he wants the man to die.

Your eyes instantly glare over at him. Sukuna tenses, clenching his jaw as he shoots a dirty look at his nephew.

“You damn snitch! They ought to teach you about tattling at that fancy day care of yours—”

“Quit yelling at him for your doing! Just you wait till he’s home,” you glower, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sukuna scowls, returning to washing the dishes with a sulky frown on his face as you bend down and gather Yuuji into your arms.

“Is that awful man being a bad influence on you?” You coo, “he is, isn’t he? Don’t worry, I’ll teach that terrible uncle of yours a lesson, okay? But don’t use that word, Yuuji. Only non self respecting people use that language.”

Yuuji doesn’t even understand what that means, he wants to say. He holds his tongue, though, just to save himself from even a little of your wrath—but the runt is never welcome back to his home again, Sukuna thinks, grumbling to himself under his breath as you offer Yuuji the last of his ice cream.

High key I don’t know how to write children so Yuuji’s parts might be cringe but just look away OKAY

[ophelieverse]

please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭

➳♡before fire takes it all

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.

-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.

-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷

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It hurts.

Love,Aegon thinks.

Love hurts.

His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.

Loving too much is fatal.Or not?

Isn't that so?

Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?

“I don't know”,his conscience responds.

Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.

How can he live?How?

How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?

Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.

But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.

Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.

His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.

«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.

His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.

Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.

As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.

«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.

Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.

Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.

His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.

A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?

«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.

It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.

Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.

With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.

Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.

He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.

Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.

Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?

He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.

Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.

The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.

Aegon was blocked.

He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.

He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.

Not even him,especially him.

Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.

«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.

Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.

She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.

Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.

A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.

Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.

Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.

Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.

Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.

«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.

«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.

«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.

Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.

But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.

He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.

Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.

He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.

“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.

It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.

Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.

Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.

So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.

It will never be like this.

«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.

Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.

Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.

Y/n doesn't tremble.

He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.

Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.

Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.

At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.

So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?

Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.

«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.

«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.

Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.

«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.

It’s not what happened,but what could happen.

Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.

Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.

«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.

Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.

«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.

Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.

His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.

«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.

Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.

The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.

He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.

Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.

Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.

And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.

«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.

She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.

«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.

His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.

«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.

Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.

«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.

He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.

She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.

It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.

Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.

The time of a whole life that slips away.

«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.

He just took,he just wanted.

Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.

He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.

What a stupid mistake.

«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.

No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.

It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.

He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.

This was his life once,before her.

Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.

The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.

Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?

Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.

Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.

Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.

He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.

This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?

«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.

Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.

The bravest Lady he had ever met.

«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.

Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.

She loves him.

And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.

Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.

Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.

Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.

And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.

And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.

Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.

They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.

Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?

He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.

«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.

«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.

Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.

«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.

All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.

«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.

Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.

Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.

«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.

And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP idea: Yeti Orders

Danny Fenton gets sent to Gotham by a worried FrostBite who thinks he's overworking himself. Danny will do no hero work for an entire year on his Yeti doctor's order to let his core heal from overuse.

He was even shipped through a portal to a similar universe with almost exact ectoplasm levels so that his usual foes would not bother him. The plan was to hide as a human in Gotham, letting his poor core get the much-needed rest.

Frostbite's contacts—whoever they were—managed to set up Danny's fake identity, complete with a home to call his own.

It was a somewhat run-down place, but it was isolated from the rest of the city due to some gas leak a few years back. It was safe to move into, but no one wanted to face the memories of the tragedy. Danny lives alone in the far corner of the city and loves it.

Danny is also told to try to avoid any high-stress-inducing work, so with that in mind, he finds himself applying for a job at the public library. He's a just age out of the system orphan who moved to the big city to try and make a new life for himself.

Every day, he skips onto the city bus, which stops just outside his street; he rides towards the center of Gotham, picks up a latte and some new pastry at the cafe near his work, and spends days filing away books. He gossips with his co-worker Barbara about his nonexistent love life and starts to feel normal for the first time since he was fourteen.

Danny giggles with Barbs about the most eligible bachelor under forty list two months into his medical retreat. He is swooning over Bruce Wayne- though Babs makes a face - when the door to the library is kicked open.

The two librarians gasp as a group of men wearing question marks march in a group of tightened people at gunpoint. Danny doesn't have time to react before two barrels point at him, and a man yells for them to join the group.

He is forced to kneel alongside random citizens unlucky enough to have been caught on the street. Babs is knocked off her chair to the ground. The man laughs as she tries to drag herself closer to the group, which causes Danny's core to flaar in rage.

Two hours go by, with everyone on their knees, surrounded by guards. They are hostages, but what for, Danny doesn't know. All that he can pray for is for everyone to stay calm until help comes.

Sadly, that doesn't seem to be the case when a baby wakes in his mother's arms and won't stop crying. The guards quickly lose patience with the panicking woman until they drag her away from the group and rip her child from her arms.

Danny can't stay by and watch anyone, not with the gun being pointed at a little one.

He ignores the ache his core thumps with as he prepares to change into Phantom and save everyone. Yes, Frostbite will be angry, which may set back all the healing he's done, but Danny doesn't think he has a choice.

"I'm going-"

A crash from overhead interrupts his battle cry as a figure drops down on the main guard. Danny watches, amazed, dumbfounded, as the person does some quick flips, kicks, and punches, dancing out of the way of bullets and taking down the kidnappers one right after the other.

They didn't even use powers. Just some form of martial arts. It was amazing.

Soon, the figure stands, surrounded by bodies, and really, this should be on a poster; it's such an excellent shot. The person, now that he's not a blur bouncing around the room kicking ass, looks like a man with a with a metal staff. He has a red and black costume, with a long black cape on his shoulders.

He walks over to the woman, handing her back the baby that he managed to save mid-punch. She clunches to her child, sobbing so hard she shakes and the man carefully offers her some comfort.

Danny might just be in love.

"Is everyone alright?" a new voice asks suddenly, right in the middle of the circle of hostages, causing Danny to release a scream. Seeing as everyone stops to turn to him, he is not proud of the fact. Danny glances at the newcomer who spoke, feeling his face heat up.

This one is mostly in blue, but his outfit is obviously made from the same material as the bo-staff man. He has an amused smile on his lips, which should be illegal.

"Don't mind, Danny," Babs says as someone helps her back into her chair. "He's not from Gotham. This is his first Bat encounter."

Everyone nods like that makes sense, no longer staring at him like he lost his mind. More and more Bats eventually show up, having defeated the Riddler- apparently a man who regularly kidnaps people to make riddles out of?- and everything gets sorted.

The Bats stay long enough for the police to show up and haul the goons to jail. Witness statements are taken. The medics treat anyone injured, and in all the chaos, the Bats vanish.

Babs closes the library early, sending Danny home with a relieved smile and the next two days off. At that time, he finds out everything he can about the Bats, and he is amazed that a whole clan of them is running around saving Gotham.

Danny quickly realizes that he doesn't need to be Phantom here. The city already has heroes keeping her safe.

Instead, he becomes the Bat Clan's number-one fan. Buying a laptop just to join fan forums, watch old footage of the Clans, and join the BatBurger loyalty program.

By the time the Libary reopens, Danny caved into the urge to write fanfiction. He uses Phantom as his username, figuring no one would ever know. He may enjoy his yeti orders a little more now.

Meanwhile, Babs is showing Tim the fanfiction about Red Robin falling in love with a civilian. She laughs at how much Tim gets into it because Danny really does have a talent for the written word.

"Has he written anything else?" Tim asks once he catches up with the latest chapter.

"He just posted a new story about Batman falling in love with Bruce Wayne," Babs says, watching the numbers on his views rise. "It's only five chapters so far, but apparently, the world-building is amazing."

"Phantom wrote that the Bats were a ghosts of some kind." Dick yells from where he is also reading the Red Robin fanfiction, "Frankly, I'm flattered by how hot he made Nightwing sound."

"You sure he's not a threat?" Tim asks, clicking open the new fic with barely concealed glee.

"No. Danny has a weak heart. Per his doctor's orders, he can't be in any stressful situation. He's just a sweet kid who became our fan after the save from Riddler." Babs says, "I highly doubt we'll see him near the cape scene."

[pearlywritings]

Surprisingly

synopsis: for the public eye, the head of the Oak Family and his wife are a loving couple. In private they are astonishingly content with each other too.

pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

tw: fluff, arranged marriage, reader is halovian, established some time before the game quest on Penacony.

word count: 2.8k+ words

Nothing supports the man’s prestige and public image more than a proper marriage with a proper woman. So, I want you to meet this very woman, my child…

Two months, fifteen days and one hour. That’s exactly how long ago Sunday became a husband. A role he didn’t imagine himself playing, not with the role assigned to him from above. But, it was Gopher Wood - his adoptive parent basically, who brought you to him and announced his grand plan. And even if the head of the Oak Family had his doubts initially, a thorough conversation held with and without the Dreammaster, plus your immaculate background and some more specific matters proved to him that you were indeed chosen rightfully. He wasn’t sure if it was Mr Wood’s way of helping him, offering you as an aid at handling some of the work-related matters but with the seemingly perfect image of being wed - the elder gave no answers, however Sunday knew better than to question some of his schemes.

And so, your union was sealed. The ceremony wasn’t something exceptionally huge, none of you wanted that, but it was public enough for everyone and their mother to be talking about it. A couple of perfectly sterile interviews, some joint photos and three or four public appearances together, and people have been fooled enough to believe that.

That was enough.

Something as shocking as a wedding would avert the public eye and serve a great purpose in deceiving the people. After all, newlyweds are far too busy for one of them to be plotting something, right?

Right. So right, that Sunday himself was in a somewhat daze for the first week. But it’s understandable - on top of his regular responsibilities he had to prepare for the wedding and get to know the person he was about to spend life with better. Surprisingly, you turned out to be very understanding and supporting from day one, actively participating in whatever additional activity served on the man’s plate. It was weird, new and confusing, but above all he caught himself considering it not unwelcome.

You are astonishingly easy to work with. Well-versed in the matters of Family (but he shouldn't be all too surprised, given who brought you to him), soft, yet - when needed - firm spoken, not afraid to face the crowd in your husband's place for a public announcement and taking a portion of his responsibilities without any questions asked. If not for your interactions outside of all of that, Sunday would've thought you were his secretary and not a wife (but even a secretary wouldn't have known as much as you are aware of).

You are…comfortable. Sunday should really reproach himself for giving in so quickly, but it’s so hard not to. Maybe his vigilance is lulled with security of his patron’s choice or maybe it’s his own longing for normal civil interaction with someone close, but it didn’t take much time to start entertaining your sparks of curiosity.

Oh, how curious you are. Despite being trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ve been willing to learn about him from day one, trying to unfurl at least one tiny secret of his every day. He knows that because you are methodical, because you write it down (and you don’t hide the fact - when he, alarmed, asked or rather demanded you to show him that little notepad of yours, you just did so, with an explanation of your reasoning.)

Speaking of getting to know each other better… It’s still half an hour before your recently established tea time, but… But maybe he could summon you earlier? 

I hope, my child, this woman will become your reprieve. You are not obligated to love her, see her as just a companion, but feel free to treat her as a continuation of yourself. I educated her to match you specifically, after all.

As a continuation of himself… Isn’t it cruel to speak such things of a sentient being? Isn’t it putting one into the position of submission? 

Somehow it feels bitter on the tongue when he thinks of you.

His hand reaches for the bell, but promptly stops before the fingertips can touch the polished metal. Ah, of course, he asked to not be disturbed today. So, let him not violate his own order. He can find you on his own, not to mention, a small walk around the building might help clearing up his mind. Lately, he’s been thinking too much.

Spacious halls of the Dewlight Pavilion are empty, he knows as much, yet he hopes he won’t have to roam for too long, as the gloved hands push the doors of the meeting room. Today you two decided to work from the main Family residence in need of some materials here, and since no congregations were scheduled for the day, the building was all yours.

Each step of his is muffled by the carpet, lining the exactly 39 stairs, every next one lifting some of the weight from his shoulders and smoothing the deep frown of light gray brows. When his heels click on the small podium with the additional three steps, Sunday feels like his head is cleared. 

Stepping on the carpet again, he finally ends up in the big hall with the 5 Lineages symbols and a big City Sandpit in the middle. Quickly fishing his phone out of the pocket, he swiftly unlocks the screen and finds your name in the recent calls, dialing it.

When did it happen that conversations with you outnumbered ones with his sister?

You pick up the phone after just two seconds.

“Hello? What is it, Sunday?”

Ah, straight to the point, he admires that. And the calmness of your tone is surprisingly grounding.

“I was wondering if you’d join me earlier,” he speaks softly, barely holding off from calling you ‘dear’. It’s not wrong for the spouses, but how would you react? He asks strange questions lately. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come fetch you.”

“To answer your first question, I’d love to,” the young man might lie to himself, but he swears he heard your voice sweeten just a little. It makes the little wings behind his ears flutter, which he is quick to still. “As for your second one, however, you might want to look down.”

Sunday follows your instruction without much thought, looking right at the red carpet covering the marble floor.

“...I don’t believe I understand.”

He hears you chuckle, a tinkling sound, lacking any malice. His left wing slightly jerks as the favorable noise fills his left ear through the phone.

“The City Sandpit, beautiful. I am not far from the origami birds’ nest.”

As he moves to round the table, your husband’s heart skips a beat. You called him beautiful, you have done so on multiple occasions already. You praised his intellect, you gently clapped for the perfect choice of the clothes for the day he made, you agreed with him on the most mundane things incorporated into your daily lives. And not once it felt forced or fake. You were surprisingly sincere with him - he would’ve thought that with the Dreammaster’s upbringing you’d have been all mastered flashy smiles and sickly sweet polished words.

But here you’ve been, admiring him in your own quite blunt kind of way.

He immediately spots your tiny figure among the fake buildings on the city’s layout. You are waving at him with a smile.

“Found me,” he hears again in the speaker, but now also from you as well.

“Found you,” Sunday echoes, reaching his free hand to you. When he curls his fingers, you understand and, clutching the strap of the bag hanging from your shoulder, carefully climb onto his open palm.

Your husband is careful, finishing the call and putting the phone aside, before cupping the other hand under the one holding your sitting figure. Bringing you closer to his eyes he can see all the little details on the pretty pale blue dress you left home in this morning, with your second pair of clipped wings wrapped around the waist like another skirt. Then his gaze skims along your neck, adorned in one of the pendants he gifted you and then up to the first pair of wings, bigger than his when you are your normal size. 

He doesn’t have an opportunity to marvel over your intricate halo, because your eyes capture his in a vice, looking at him inquiringly.

“Didn’t expect you to take a break earlier. I thought you liked to stick to your routine.”

This was probably the first thing you learned about your back then betrothed.

“I do,” a tiny smile adorns his pale lips, “however, today I managed to wrap the most attention-requiring matters up earlier. Now only the mundane cases are left.”

“Good to hear that,” you hum, swinging your stocking-clad legs a little. His golden eyes look over your form once more, capturing the image of surprising comfortability in the hands of a bigger being, one that could crash your body so easily at the moment.

“I do wonder however about the reason behind your current predicament,” the male tilts his head in an inquiring way. “I believe I’ve never seen you enter the City Sandpit.”

Well, not to count the very first time he was giving you a tour.

“Oh, as I said, I know your routine, so I usually leave it before our meetings. I actually enter it quite often when we stay here,” is your answer that makes Sunday’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Pardon?”

“It’s easier to do paperwork this way,” motioning to the bag still on your shoulder, you then huff in annoyance. “If only you knew how eager your subordinates to bother me whenever you are unavailable. I am well-informed of my seeming position as the “lady-of-the-house”, but I’ve never signed up to be a link element between you and them, let alone a pawn in someone’s game of becoming first to seek your favor. Pardon me for my straightforwardness, but I much prefer interactions without actual feedback from the interlocutor if the situation doesn’t require otherwise. Except for you, of course.”

Except for him.

“You are my equal. You can always order them not to bother you,” drawing his hands closer to the chest, Sunday turns and starts walking closer to the table’s side where the gates are located.

“As if,” he glances down and catches just the end of your eye roll. “Mister Wood would have had my head if I ruined your picture as little as being distant from your inner circle. I’d much rather prefer just to hide away when needed and return to my secondary duties once I’m done with the primary.”

With the Dreammaker’s upbringing you would think a person can’t be as open-minded. Sunday is sure that it was no different from his - after all you have the clipped wings to match his. But, it seems, you found a way to temporarily escape from the suffocating clutches. Today he learnt a new thing about you, and, surprisingly it warms his soul instead of feeling repulsed.

He carefully puts you down just in front of the gates from the city’s side. Almost knocking off  a little ”DO NOT TOUCH” card near it, your husband moves to the right to let you step out. And in a couple of seconds of blinding light you stand before him in all your tall glory.

“Thank you for making the trip across the city so much shorter,” you grin, shaking the bag’s strap down your shoulder and rolling it, before unwrapping the wings from around your waist and spreading them in a stretch.

“It was my pleasure,” his tone is even, yet the gaze with which he watches you move gives him out. To this day and probably for a long while the levels of intimacy that used to be unknown to him yet which you display are going to surprise him. Sunday almost feels an annoying twinge of upsetness when you rewrap your wings around the dress’s skirt. Though it lets him see a couple of ruffled feathers and he has to suppress the urge of his hand to reach and fix them for you.

Yes, there is some intimacy between you lately, but not close enough.

“If you give me a moment to drop off my papers, I’ll be swift in joining you,” your voice breaks the man out of his self-restraining thoughts, and he lifts his eyes from your waist back to your face.

“Ah, it won’t be necessary. I’d like to have our tea time back at the meeting room, I have some things to discuss with you.”

“So official,” you smile, taking a step to join his side. “Alright then, let us be on our way up. Would you like to fill me in on the agenda of our ‘meeting’?”

“Sure,” Sunday chooses to ignore your teasing, but habitually offers you his elbow to hook your arm in it. “My sister is going to visit soon and she seems to be quite pissed at me.”

“Miss Robin?” Your question is laced with puzzlement. “I assumed from your stories of her that she is hardly in a sour mood.”

“It is true, yes,” your husband sighs, leading you up the first set of stairs. “But I would’ve been mad too if my sibling had gotten married and I did not know a thing.”

“She does not know about us?”

The man nearly halts in his ascending. If he didn’t know better and where your thoughts and loyalties stood in this marriage, he would’ve believed you are offended that he kept such an important fact a secret from his only family member. Nevertheless, he continues his walking.

“I sent her an invitation, you know that. But it seems the planet she’s been on is pretty far away and she’s gotten my message only recently, on her way back. I loathe to admit it, but now I feel very bad and the situation itself is iunjust. I am aware we were in a rush, all because of the- you know why,” he sees you nod from the corner of his eye and feels your fingers carefully dig into his arm, “but Robin has always wanted to be a maid of honor at my wedding. And I ripped this opportunity from her.”

And I am not going to get married the second time. This he did not voice out loud.

For a moment you both fall silent. You get lost in thought, Sunday does so too, analyzing his own words, wondering if this speech of his was too personal, if it was painting him as weak in your eyes.

And his own.

You speak only when he reaches for the knob and twists in to swing the door open and lead you two inside.

“So, how much time do we have before she gets here?”

“Maybe a couple of days,” he breaks the lock of your arms and gets a hold on the strap, sliding the bag down your shoulder and turning to put it aside for the time being. “Why asking?”

“You are a good brother, I can see that, “ ah, here you are, praising him again. “And it’s obvious you care for your sister and wish to give her the world. I suggest organizing a small party for her. This way she could experience what she missed and get familiar enough with me. I can negotiate with Mister Wood, I am sure I can convince him - he has some sort of a soft spot for you, Sunday.”

Surprisingly, it twists something uncomfortable in the halovian’s stomach.

“It sounds… delightful. However, are you certain you’d like to go to such lengths for Robin?”

“Well, she is your sister,” you chose the table farthest from the one your husband has been working at and grab the back of the chair to move it so you could sit, “and I am your wife. I’d love her to believe in us too. If I am not overstepping, of course.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. If almost four months ago someone - even you - suggested he let his sister and future wife meet, he’d be hesitant. He knows his little sister, he knows how perceptive she is - he is not so sure he wouldn’t have cracked under her inquisitive questions about whether he was happy with the arrangement or not. Plus leaving her sad and aching for brother if he let her know of the unjustness of the situation and still chose to proceed with the wedding is just too much for him.

Now he, at least, will not be lying that he is content if being asked.

“I accept your offer and thank you profusely for it,” Sunday slightly bows his head, to which you shake yours, reaching your hand out to beckon him to join you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll have time to thank me later, once we’ve already done something, alright?”

Surprisingly… It is indeed alright.

[mv1simp]

requested: max + breeding kink + fertility drugs + driver!reader

Paradise ♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

it feels like heaven on the inside (she's calling my name and oh, it sounds nice)

You’re so excited about being the first F1 female driver in years - and on ex World Champion Max Verstappen’s team, no less. But somehow, you end up not only on his racecars, but also in his luxurious silk sheets. There was something about seeing you wearing his name that makes your boss’s possessive desires come out, and lately he’s been thinking about how to keep you in his bed…forever.

content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark team owner!max and his driver!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy, baby trapping, fertility drugs, dubcon, WC 1.8K

Everyone knows Max Verstappen loved kids, and couldn’t wait to be a Dad someday. And he’d make such a great father, too, with his protective nature and strong build, yet surprisingly soft and gentle manner everytime a young fan would approach him. Every woman in his vicinity would stare at him with heart eyes when he smiled and ruffled a child’s hair as he signed their teddy, or held his hand out to help them cross the road, or rocked his nephew in his arms, the baby looking impossibly tiny and peaceful in Max’s swollen biceps.

Every woman apart from you, apparently. You were Max’s newest recruited driver for his personal racing team project, the sensational new addition to Verstappen.com and the first female driver, too. A few years younger than him at 23, you had all the fierce desire to prove to yourself and to everyone else how much you belonged on the grid, how much you deserved a championship. It was like Max was looking at his younger self, who’d been so greedy for that World Cup trophy his whole life.

But now, at 27 and with three titles already to his name, the Dutch Lion had gotten bored of his fame and wanted something…more. And what he wanted especially was his pretty, young driver under him every night as he fucked her to sleep. Of course, you’d been the very picture of rigid professionalism when he’d first met you. Paranoid about being labelled a slut and being accused of using your body to get your seat, you studiously avoided any physical contact with any male driver on the grid - especially your older Dutch mentor and boss who you thought was extremely handsome. You'd die if he ever found out about the poster of him you'd had on your bedroom wall growing up.

But Max had gotten you to relax, to let your guard down with his warm laughter and charming smile, until you couldn’t resist leaning into him when he threw a muscled arm around your shoulders, around your petite waist, or when he drew your much smaller figure to sit on his broad lap as he explained your driving feedback from today’s practise as you watched the recording on his laptop together.

With how close you two got, becoming inseparable on and off the grid, it was only a matter of time before he found you writhing in a hotel bed, desperately moaning his name with scrunched eyes as you pumped your vibrator in and out of your glistening pussy. He’d tossed the pathetic toy aside and given you something far bigger to actually cum on.

Soon enough, the Dutch Lion got his wish (like he always did) of having your small figure underneath his large, muscled one as he pounded into your bouncing ass every night. You moaned and screamed his name, lost in the bliss of being so looked after by the much more experienced older driver, who knew a couple dozen tricks to have you cumming around him. You’d never been so satisfied by any other man, you breathlessly confessed to Max as he slides into you again for the third time that week.

But like he always did, Max quickly began wanting more. He wanted to be the only cock you allowed to enter your pussy - and he wanted to do it completely raw. Of course, with your desperation to win a world championship one day, you were adamant about religiously wearing a condom every single time. No matter how many times he hinted, it was the one thing you refused to budge on. So he knew he’d have to take matters in his own hands. You always followed his lead after all, and he knew once you experienced the high of your first creampie you’d become addicted.

So a few days later he takes you back to his hotel room after a celebratory night out. You’re stumbling in your heels, drunk, and climbing all over him in the dark room as you giggle and whisper that you’re horny Maxie, can he please take care of you like always? Smirking, he makes sure to keep the lights off as he tosses you onto the mattress, your soft legs up over his muscular shoulders. Even in your tipsy state, you never forget to ask him to put the damn condom on, making him clench his jaw. You watch him slide one on before relaxing, welcoming his protected cock in between your lush thighs.

Soon he’s jack hammering away happily, making you whine and moan after he already makes you cum once and is working you upto the second one. But he makes sure to flip you over with his strong arms, pressing in between your shoulder blades so you're face down, ass up.

When he doesn’t immediately sink back inside, you whine and try to turn your head back to see what was taking so long - but his big hands firmly keep your neck in place. Just admiring the view, sweetheart, he says teasingly and giving your plump ass a rough smack.

As you moan from the jolt, he continues slapping and fingering you from behind, knowing how easy it was to get you worked up like this. And bingo, soon enough you’re squirting messily all over his large palm, soaking the sheets below you. So wet, sweetheart, he murmurs. All for me, hmm? You’re dripping everywhere.

You’re moaning brainlessly, not a single thought left in your head as you wiggle your hips shamelessly and ask Max for his cock again, pl-please make me feel good, Maxie? He smirks, knowing in this state you’d never notice if he were to tug the condom off, not with the way you’ve squirted so much and it’d be impossible to tell what was your cum and what was his.

So he does exactly that, finally yanking the annoying plastic off and releasing his angry, rock hard cock. He lines his drooling tip up to your pretty pink pussy, teasing your twitching entrance. Licking his lips, he grins evilly as he thrusts into you with a smooth motion, sinking in all the way to the base. You squirm and pant underneath him, overwhelmed by how good he feels inside you, so warm, your gummy walls squeezing down on every ridge and vein on his thick cock.

After bullying your sweet cunny mercilessly with his thrusts, he holds you down as he drains his heavy balls into your twitching hole, filling you with his creamy, thick cum. You moan under him, tiredly asking why it was so wet, he’d definitely worn a condom, right Maxie? He leaned down to kiss your shoulder, promising he had, it was just so wet cuz of your squirting, you dirty girl.

Now that he’s had a taste of your raw pussy he wants it every single night. Once was never enough for the greedy Redbull champion. So next time, he tears a hole into the condom when you aren't looking, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you approach your climax. You don’t notice until it’s far too late that the condom broke, Maxie! Your cute eyes tear up as he grunts, already have drained half his thick load into you by this point. He pretends to be shocked as he slides out, the broken condom sliding down his shaft. Oh fuck, baby, I already came inside you….You look down at your creamy pussy in awe, curiously using your fingers to play with his cum that’s leaking out of your twitching hole. You can't deny how good it feels to have your boss fuck you raw, biting your lip nervously at the thought of doing it again when he slyly suggests it. He watches you darkly, telling you not to worry, sweetheart, he’ll just get you on the pill instead, okay?

You're reluctant with the side effects potentially messing with your driving, but he convinces you that he knows best as your mentor. It’s easy for him to get his hands on fertility drugs, and he sneaks them to you constantly under the guise of contraception. You accept them willingly, because just like he’d predicted, you quickly became addicted to his cum inside you.

Soon you’re grinding your ass against his erection and palming his dick eagerly as soon as you enter the same room, begging him to have his way with you right here, the fertility drugs making you constantly horny. He watches with an amused smirk, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on the driver's room couch as you climb into his lap to ride his cock, your doe eyes rolling back as you milk him for every last drop.

He teases you mercilessly for how desperate you’ve become lately, telling you if you were so greedy for his cum he’ll keep pumping you until he’s fucked a baby into you, hmm? Wouldn’t that be fun? To be by his side all day and in his bed all night, to let him look after you while you carry his child? Of course, he keeps this last though to himself, knowing you would never agree to having a kid this early into your driving career.

Oblivious to his dark desires, you let him pump creampie after creampie into you, sometimes even starting races with soaked panties from where his cum leaked out earlier. The fertility drugs have your ass getting fatter and thighs chubbier, and your race suit tightens around your hips. Max loves it, tightening his grip on your soft waist as he fucks you through the hole he's brutishly ripped into your racepants. You squeal, trying to protest, but he grunts in between thrusts that he'll just have to buy you a new one, baby, since your ass was getting fatter these days. You whine in embarrassment from his words, burying your pink face into the cushions as you let him continue to hit it raw. No matter how strict you were with your diet and exercise, you still seemed to be gaining weight for some reason - and you observant boss had noticed it too. While you’re desperately thinking about how to maintain your figure for the season, the handsome, older Blonde above you can’t get enough of your new curves. He litters your plush, over sensitive little body with hickeys and bruises as he easily manhandles you with huge palms, practically wanting to devour you whole. It drives him crazy to give you multiple creampies while you're in his team's racing suit, stretched impossibly tight around your bouncing tits and hips, his Verstappen name plastered across your juicy ass. The same ass that he now roughly smacks, satisfied with how you well you’d taken his generous load when he emptied it into your twitching cunny.

Obviously, there’s only one way this can end. Your boss smirks as he thinks of the future, of you with a heavy, swollen belly and puffy folds after all the cum he’s fucked into you finally gets you pregnant with his child.

—————————————————————————

A/N: for all the breeding kink gorlies hope u enjoy 😼

[a-hazbin-reader]

Eeek I love your writing it makes me so 🫶🫶🫶 Can I make a request?

If you do angst to comfort, can you make reader waiting for Alastor to come back (they're married) for seven years? Reader's friends has been pushing them to have a new lover—introducing them to new demons or overlords that the reader might like, but the reader only loves one; which is Alastor. Until Vox made the news that he was back, for months, without looking for the reader. Which makes the reader think Alastor doesn't love them anymore and tries to not be in his attention whenever they meet and pretends to not know him. What will Alastor do? :3 Thank yous!!!

Oh man...that ANGST!!!

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Reader is sad, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

When Alastor first dissappears, you assume he's just busy and will be back by the end of the day

And then you wake up alone...so maybe he'll be back tomorrow. Tomorrow turns into a week, a week turns into a month...

He's just gone, suddenly ripped away from you without warning and you didn't even get a proper goodbye

So you search for him, you ask everyone if they've seen him or heard about his whereabouts

You even ask Vox if he managed to kill your husband, knowing the TV head wouldn't be able to resist bragging about it

Instead, he looks surprised and uncomfortable with your obvious distress, muttering something about keeping an eye out for you

Rosie is worried too and offers her help but turns up nothing, she does her best to keep an eye on you

You never give up on finding him, knowing that he's alive out there

After the first three years your friends start trying to get you to move on, setting you up with available bachelors

Valentino has offered to help you get over your husband multiple times because he's just such a good guy

You don't give any of them a chance, you had already found the one man you wanted to be with for eternity and married him

He's just not here at the moment

The pain in your heart is just as strong as when you first realized Alastor was missing, crying yourself to sleep nearly every night

The only time you get to see him now is in your dreams, clutching one of his jackets with his scent still on it

You just feel so abandoned...

After the sixth year, your friends try to get you to move or throw out some of Alastor's things but you can't bring yourself to do it

He's going to come back to you, you know it, so you keep your wedding ring on and still present yourself as a married woman

Rosie makes sure you take care of yourself on the days when your sadness swallows you whole

"Wipe away those tears now, have you eaten today? No? I have just the thing for you.."

Seven years go by and nothing has changed for you

You're sad and miserable, running errands when you suddenly pass by an electronics store, seeing Vox on the TV

That's nothing new to you, you almost turn away and keep walking until you hear Vox say something about Alastor

You're suddenly frozen, listening to Vox bitch about Alastor's multiple offenses during these last few months

He's been back...for months..? And hasn't come to see his wife?

You're blinking away hot tears, the air in your lungs going sour and your stomach doing flips

Did Alastor really abandon you like that? You need to go see the one person who you know has been digging into Alastor for as long as you have

Vox literally screams like a child when you're suddenly bursting into his office and grabbing him by his suit

"How long has my FUCKING HUSBAND BEEN BACK!? And why didn't you tell me, Vox!? WHY!?"

"FUCK! Who let you in here!?"

"VOX!" You're shaking him now, making his screen glitch out

"A-at least a couple of months for sure! He's doing something with Lucifer's daughter and a hotel or some shit! I thought you would've been the first to know he was back!"

Vox is relieved when you finally let go of him, fixing his suit before suddenly giving you a cruel grin

"Wait wait wait-don't tell me-he hasn't come to see you this whole time!? You wait all these years for him and he's shacking up with Lucifer's daughter, a porn star and who knows who else!?"

He suddenly stops laughing when you slam his screen into his desk, storming out afterward so he doesn't see the angry tears in your eyes

"Don't get mad at me because he started a new life without you!"

Vox knew exactly which ugly worries to pull out of your head and you let him get to you

But you knew he was right, looking at all the evidence presented to you...it does look like Alastor is starting over

A small part of you is telling you that he's replaced you somehow but you have enough pride to doubt it

But that self pity comes back to bite you that same night, crying harder than you ever have before

By the end of the week, you've convinced yourself that he doesn't love you anymore, that he got bored of you

You still haven't taken off your wedding ring yet

Imagine your surprise when on your way home you bump into Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell herself

She somehow managed to crash into you and knock down everything you were carrying, making you sigh and bend down to pick it up

"Oh my gosh, I'M SO SORRY!!" 🥺

You mumble something forgiving back to her, still picking up your things when you hear a familiar voice that makes your heart ache

"Charlie, my dear! What sort of mischief have you gotten int-Y/N?"

You're still as beautiful as Alastor remembers, if not even more so

You can hear the surprise in his voice, along with notes of panic and guilt

You just ignore him, gathering the rest of your things before walking in the opposite direction of them, you don't dare look at Alastor

You know you would break down if you did

He doesn't follow you, nor does he follow you the next time you run into him, or the time after that

It hurts you a little more each time, wanting to know if your husband ever loved you at this point

He doesn't know what boundaries to push with you anymore, he just misses you like crazy

Alastor knows he has to do something-

He tries cornering you the next time he sees you, standing in your way

"Y/N, please just let me explain-"

"I don't know who you're talking about, I'm not who you think I am."

He grabs your wrist, eyeing your wedding band with a frustrated expression

"You're wearing our wedding ring..."

"This is the ring my husband gave to me, and I haven't seen him in years."

You rip away your arm and walk away from him, crying to yourself over how much it hurts

You don't see how his ears lay low, and how he watches you with a regretful expression

He wishes he could just tell you everything, wants to run after you and hold you

But his deal doesn't allow it, he wanted to go straight to you when he got back-never wanted to leave you in the first place

But he was also too ashamed to face you, scared to find that you moved on or that you no longer loved him

He hates that he's hurting his wife like this and it sours his mood for weeks afterwards

Charlie and Vaggie start to understand that Alastor's sudden angry attitude always happens whenever he sees you

But they don't know who you are and they're way too afraid to ask Alastor because he's still digging his claws into everything out of anger

Niffty is actually the one who tells them that you're his wife but Husk explains to them that you're probably pissed at him for disappearing

Charlie is crying at the thought of Alastor and his wife being separated, Vaggie having to comfort her

So the two women get to work on finding you themselves, showing up on your doorstep one day and inviting you to the hotel

It takes a lot of coaxing and convincing from them to finally get you to go with them

You're a bit surprised to hear that Alastor is helping with a hotel centered around the idea of redemption

But you figure he's got some sort of angle, he always does

Alastor isn't there when you three arrive, Charlie having talked your ear off about everything Alastor has been doing to help

Which is unlike him, you're immediately suspicious

But you recognize Husk and Niffty, the little woman running to you and crawling all over you in excitement

"Y/N! Y/N! You're here! Are you gonna stay? Is your house messy? Do you have roaches for me to kill~?"

"Hey Y/N, you look like you need a drink.."

You almost start crying then and there, not having realized how much you missed them too, hugging Niffty tight as you take a seat at the bar

It almost feels like old times, the three of you talking late into the night until it's just you and Husker...

He takes a shot and seems to be preparing himself for something, uncomfortable suddenly

"Y/N...there's something I gotta tell you...about your husband..."

You're expecting to hear the worst, to hear that Alastor cheated, to hear that he's seeing someone new

But what Husk tells you is far FAR from that...you don't know whether to be thankful or horrified

Your husband's soul...owned by someone else? Just what did that man get himself into?

You don't even realize you're crying until Husk is awkwardly hugging you, patting your back gently as you cling to him

At some point, you must've fallen asleep because you wake up in an unfamiliar bed, your face buried in Alastor's neck

You almost relax and fall back asleep before your eyes suddenly pop open, jolting up and shoving him away

Even with what Husk told you, you're still mad at him, he never came back to see you

Alastor wakes up fast enough to realize he's falling off the bed, climbing back up with downward facing ears

"We need to talk, darling.."

"What is there to talk about? You don't want a wife anymore, is that it? Is that why you never came to see me?"

He looks so guilty and upset, his smile tense as he looks away, you have to resist the urge to rub his ears

You flinch away at first when he takes your hands before reluctantly letting him hold them, missing him too much to fight it

"I was too ashamed to face you...there's so much I can't tell you and I was...scared that you would be with someone new."

"Do you have any idea how much pain I was in? Alastor, it nearly broke me.."

He has tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, looking away to try and save face as he pulls you in for a tight hug

"Just please...forgive me and let me be your husband again. I'll do everything I can to fix this..."

It doesn't make up for all the pain you felt for seven years but it's definitely a start

You've missed him too much to continue being angry with him, so you just cling to him and cry

You cry until you both fall asleep again, eventually waking up tangled in each other's arms

He's kissing all over your face, ghosting his lips over your eyes, your nose, your forehead, eventually getting to your lips

You suddenly feel so full of emotion, like you could burst with happiness at finally having Alastor again

You had nearly given up hope that you would feel him, taste his lips, or smell his raw scent ever again

You dig your nails into him when he tries to pull away, forcing him to kiss you longer as his hands bruise your hips

You both are panting by the time you pull away, bodies pressed as close as possible out of a need for contact

His voice comes out like static, leaning in for another kiss as gazes at you with loving eyes

"I have missed you...so much..."

You could cry if it weren't for the fact that you were sick of crying, instead rolling yourself on top of him and kissing along his jaw

"You better prove it to me."

His pleased growl followed by claws digging into your clothes answered you well enough

You know he still has a lot to make up for but this is a good start

Sorry this one came out so long!! I hope you like it!!

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of abuse/alcoholism

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first meetings and a slight introduction to our characters! i imagine each drabble will have a pretty varying length, so this one is a bit on the shorter side! either way, i hope you enjoy :) interaction is highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘

Kinich meets you in the spring.

The air is warm and balmy that day, with a breeze that brushes by the skin with pleasant coolness. His mother likes to take him to the market with her on days like these, probably for his own good. She tells him he’s a bit unsociable for his age, not that he disagrees—he just doesn’t see any point in changing. He does just fine spending his days at home, exploring the land around his house.

This kind of weather brings everyone outside, which leaves the market bustling—sellers scream their prices and show off their wares, and buyers haggle until their wallets are empty. He walks around with his mother for a bit, one hand gripping her skirt, and she offers him bits of candy and other treats. He rejects them all; really, he doesn’t want for much.

Still, he’s a more independent child, so eventually his mother leaves him to explore the various market stands while she goes around buying the more “boring” items. She probably hopes that he’ll make a friend or two, but he never does—most of the children don’t play in this area. They prefer to play with the Yumkasauri near the outskirts of the tribe.

Either way, he does end up looking around for a bit. Yanta, an elderly woman that sells fruit, gives him some berries to try, and he leaves with his tongue sweetened. He peers at some of the climbing gear, too, with astronomical prices that he would never be able to afford—at least not while his father gambles every Mora away. As the time passes, the crowd starts to get a bit stifling, so Kinich wanders away in search of a quieter place.

He settles for one of the walkways outside of the market, letting his legs dangle over the edge so he can look down at the river. There’s Yumkasauri whelps playing below, bumping each other into the water and screeching with joy. 

Laughter echoes from somewhere nearby—the sound of children, children like him. He tucks his knees to his chest. He has no need for friends, not when there is still so much to learn about the land. He thinks of his mother and the fresh welts on her skin. When he’s older, when he’s more capable, when he knows more, he can help her. Maybe one day they’ll be able to leave this place, or maybe just that man.

A burst of wind slips by—it carries the scent of flora, fuzzy yellow ones that make his eyes water and the purpling blooms that his mother loves. The recognition makes his head turn, just in time to see you run past him, a clump of flowers falling from your grip. You don’t seem to notice, and they fall uselessly to the wooden walkway, inches away from Kinich’s pinky. 

He eyes the flowers curiously—the petals are so bright, yet dainty and thin. Then, he looks toward your rapidly disappearing figure.

And really, he doesn’t know why he cares. He should go find his mom and go home. His father will be there soon anyway, and that’s a whole different beast to contend with; he doesn’t have the time or energy to be concerned with you. 

So he doesn’t really understand himself when he grabs the flowers, pushes himself to his feet, and jogs until your back is within his reach. Another step, and then his fingers wrap around your wrist just as you yelp in surprise. 

The first thought he has when you turn to face him is that you’re quite pretty, and that you look to be his age—he shakes it away just as fast. Instead, he nods toward the bundle of flowers sitting in your arms.

“You dropped some,” he mumbles, opening his palm to you. It reveals a pile of crushed petals and snapped stems, and his face reddens in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought to be so careful in his rush to chase you. When he looks up, your lips are barely parted in surprise, and he awkwardly tugs at his collar.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

He’s not good at this, he realizes instantly. Years of sticking to his own have left his social skills lacking, and he grasps blindly for something to say. Instead, you’re the first to break the silence—you laugh, a bell-like sound that he finds a bit cute.

“Wow, I must’ve been going pretty fast,” you say, head tilted. “Sorry about that! My momma used to say I run like the wind!”

Kinich tries not to get stuck on the ‘used to’ in your words, but fails—he wonders if you’re alone. It must be difficult, he’s sure, but there are some nights when the stench of alcohol grows too strong and the screams grow too loud where he wonders if it might be preferable. He’s thinking too long, and the silence grows awkward, so he forces himself to speak.

“What are the flowers for?”

It’s your turn to be embarrassed now, an awkward giggle escaping your lips as you shift your weight between your feet. 

“I was thinking about making flower crowns for the other kids in the tribe. They don’t really like playing with me lately, maybe ‘cause I’m alone, so I wanted to do something so we could all be friends again.”

Kinich doesn’t really get it—what would be the point of playing with someone who doesn’t like you? Something about the situation tells him it wouldn’t be the right thing to say, though, so he merely nods. You seem genuine, and while he may be socially inept at times, he’s not mean-spirited. Quietly, however, he notes that the stems of the flowers you have are too long—you’d have trouble making flower crowns with these. 

“Have you ever made crowns before?” he asks, doubtful. 

“Nope,” you answer honestly, “is it that obvious?”

Living at the foot of the mountain meant he had become much more familiar with the nature surrounding the tribe. His mother had been teaching him a few things lately, particularly related to farming and weaving. A flower crown would be simple work, certainly. 

He frowns. He shouldn’t do this, but you’re looking at him so expectantly.

“I could show you how—”

“Kinich!”

His mother appears just then, cheeks reddened and hair sticking wildly to her forehead. Various bags hang from her arms, evidence of her shopping, but she casts them aside in favor of grabbing at his wrist. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you got lost, or even kidnapped! What were you thinking? You’re not usually like this!”

You vaguely think that the two look quite alike; he has her eyes, save for the purpling bruise that sits just underneath her left one. You’ve had similar ones from banging your knees on things, but none in a place so front-facing.

Kinich hangs his head, stepping away from you quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Shame radiates from his form in waves, so potent you can practically feel it yourself. You grab his other wrist out of instinct, and he raises his eyes to you in surprise.

“I’m sorry too, ma’am,” you say. The woman looks shocked, gaze flitting to where your hand joins with his. “I was clumsy and took up too much of his time. It’s my fault if he was late.”

Kinich’s heart flips, and he’s unsure why—maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him like this, maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him at all. His mother looks just as flabbergasted as he does, only returning to her senses when she notices the setting sun. She sighs, addressing her son again.

“Your father will be home soon,” she says, retrieving her bags, and Kinich visibly stiffens. “We should go.”

Gentle, he twists his wrist from your grip, quietly following his mother as she starts to leave. There’s a similar sadness to the hunch of their backs, as if they’re dreading returning home—you wonder if you’re imagining it. Kinich, you remember his mother calling him. You like the sound of it.

“Kinich!” 

He turns at the call of his name, so unfamiliar from your lips. You’re smiling brightly, holding up two of the flowers you’d picked.

“Next time, teach me how to make a flower crown, okay?”

/

His mother doesn’t speak as they make the walk home. He lets the wind fill the silence, whistling through the trees and carrying him with its lulling sound. It’s one of the few pleasures he finds nowadays when he retreats outside, skin purpling with fresh bruises.

They inch the front door open, tentative and wincing, half-expecting his father to burst out in a drunken rage—they’re only met with silence. Relieved, Kinich’s mother sets about putting away the groceries, and Kinich collapses into bed, letting his eyes fall shut as the sun dims outside. He tries to savor the last few minutes he has, distantly praying that his father might come home sober today. 

He thinks of the market, and then he thinks of the flowers. He thinks about the flowers, and then he thinks about them some more—a little longer than is natural for him.

Just as he slips into sleep, Kinich realizes that he never asked for your name.

[yandere-romanticaa]

There's something so oddly sweet about the "childhood friends to lovers" pipeline in fiction, but with Aemond Targaryen it takes such a deliciousy dark turn that my mind couldn't help but to linger on it.

Aemond can still recall every single harsh word his family has even thrown his way, how he can still feel the way his eyes would get wet but he had to hold it all in, because he could not afford to let himself to show even an ounce of weakness, not even to himself. Countless hours were wasted with him staring off into the distance somewhere, admiring the noble beasts which were flying high above in the sky, far away from the reach of anything and anyone.

Those were the times he was most envious of not having a dragon of his own. The green little beast known as jealousy would take over, causing him to want to step off the deep end.

Just as he felt the skin of his knuckles threatening to rip due to his tight grip, a warm pair of hands would make their way to him and hold onto him gently, as if he actually mattered somehow in the grand scheme of things.

Most of the time he would just stand there and let you embrace him, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest as his luscious blonde was carried by the wind. Although, if he had a particularly rough day, he would sometimes simply melt into your embrace. Cheek against cheek, Aemond could feel the worry radiating off you in spades.

It was dreadful how absolutely euphoric that made him feel.

You were his only real playmate growing up, causing him to become dreadfully possessive over you. It got so bad that Aemond outright forbade Aegon and Haelena of all people from even looking at you, let alone actually seeking you out. None of the other children in court were safe either as rumors spread fast that they ought to steer clear far away from you, lest they wished to suffer Aemond's thorny wrath.

The little paradise Aemond had cultivated for himself was not meant to last. One the same night he finally claimed his dragon, you had vanished along with your family.

He still remembers how excited he was to share the news with you, how he wished to tell you that once he was skilled enough he wished you to be the first person who would fly with him on his dragon.

No one else had the right to that privilege, absolutely no one.

But, things didn't go to plan. And truly, when do they ever?

Aemond had lost a lot that night and gained just as much. He had claimed a dragon, Vhagar, one of the largest and strongest dragons there were. In just one evening he became a one man army, there was nothing that could hold him back.

He can still feel just how tight the chair was he sat on as the maesters stitched his damaged eye, how hot the cracking fire next to him was, just how loud everyone was being... It was all irrelevant. The moment he could, he was going to seek you out and tell you everything, share each and every detail he could about his dragon...

... Until his mother told him the news.

Your family relocated due to some personal reasons and as Alicent went on and on about that, little Aemond felt his world shatter in a heartbeat.

He would rather take ten thousand cuts and stabs to his eye than ever face the pain he felt once he learned of your departure.

"It's for your own good too..." he can recall his mother saying, her voice sounding a little defeated.

"You shouldn't tie yourself to one person like you already have... I worry about you, Aemond."

That dark and stormy night, Aemond had made two vows to himself, vows he was going to sign with his own blood if he had to. The first was that no matter where in the world you were, no matter how far your family may try to take you, there would be no distance he would not tread, no man, woman or child he wouldn't slay just to hear the sound of your voice, to feel your soft skin, to be with you.

And the other was that he would make due on his promise of giving you a ride on Vhagar. He was in your debt for even trying to claim the mighty beast, it was only fair.

Aemond Targaryen took those two vows and kept them under lock and key, hidden deeply in his dark, which grew darker and darker. At the rate he was going, he would turn into a more terrifying beast than the actual dragon he had. Although, even dragons had their hearts.

You just happened to be Aemond's.

And he was going to come to you one day, soaked in the blood of his enemies, his arms open wide as he makes his way to embrace you once more.

[theflorasdiary]

The problem with this show are not the characters or how the episodes are made,but the writers that decided to develop a literal masterpiece into a circus.

The campaign for season two literally started with making the audience choose between team black and team green:we had two trailers,two official posters and even the actors were “divided” to promote their teams.

So they basically told us to pick a side since the beginning.

Then they procede to turn team black in the saint team:making them the victims of the patriarchy,the heroes of the story.They showed us team black as if they are more Targaryen then the other team only because they know a prophecy and use this fact to excuse them from anything they do.

They made team black loved and worshiped by the small folks after Rhaenys killed hundreds of them during her dumb and useless girl boss scene and after Rhaenyra starved them.When in the book the small folks hates Rhaenyra and her incompetence,they will literally kick her out of the city and she has to run away or they will kill her just like they did with the dragons.The small folks instead loved team green,they loved Helaena as their queen and blamed and hated Rhaenyra for her death.

They forced use to like Rhaenyra just because she is one of the main characters,pushing on her the role of strong female character that is fighting a male society and then again just because she is a woman she is excused for everything that she does.We had to sit and watch two scenes of her giving birth and two of her weddings because we needed to empathize with her.We need to see her on her dragon constantly so that we can see Daenerys resemblance.They had to make her a saint,of course she wouldn’t want to kill a child she is too good,she would never hurt Helaena,everyone is loyal to her and she can do no wrong.They even took down Nettles to not show us Rhaenyra racism and the way she wanted to have a little girl killed because her pedo uncle-husband was rumored to be her lover.

On the other side we have team green that was completely dehumanized,stripped down of every good aspects they had in the book,changing and canceling everything.

We had never saw Alicent give birth to children that came to her out of marital rapes,we also did not see her getting married as a child bride to a man that will abuse her.Apparently the love of her life is Rhaenyra instead that her own children,she betrays them and her own side of the family in favor of her ex best friend that didn’t do anything to help her in the past and instead laughed in her face about her trauma.They keep telling that Alicent has never sacrificed anything when she has sacrificed her all life for duty and family unlike Rhaenyra.

Healena is totally marginal as the “weird bug girl” that just rants things out.She was a dragon rider that enjoyed being with her dragon Dreamfyre,yet in the show apparently she doesn’t like that.Even her dragon legacy was taken by team black,because now Dany dragon eggs comes from Syrax.In Viserys last days Helaena used to visit her father with her children but again this was taken from her and put on Rhaenyra instead.She was also stripped down of her coronation,of the way she was loved as a queen and how Aegon made sure that she was remembered as the true queen during the dance.They took from her the grief and mourning of her son one of the things that will literally drove her to death,because only Rhaenyra can cry her son and no one else.

Aegon was transformed into a rapist,because you can’t like him,you can only like Rhaenyra.There was no scene of him and Sunfyre beside the battle of Rook’s Rest,they have the strongest bond between a dragon and a dragon rider,he loved Sunfyre to the point he changed the family sigil to a golden dragon.They took down his will to fight,his family support and loyalty to him,his rage as a father that had lost his son.They took two of his sons,because Maelor do not exist and now he can’t have any more children because in the show he had lost his penis.They made him useless and pushed him on the sidelines in his own story.

I still don’t understand why they had to make Aemond betray his brother when in the book he was loyal to him,also in the book there was no indication of Aegon bullying him so again i don’t understand why choose this path.Daemon had a “redemption arc” after his betrayal one but of course Aemond can’t,only team black can.

Criston Cole is portrayed as an angry incel that still hates one woman that coerced him into having sex with her after he told her no multiple times.So much wasted potential in this character,when in the book he was one of the masterminds of team green,convinced Aegon to take the crown,took care of Sunfyre and served his king just right.

Daeron…sorry who?What do you mean that there is a third brother?I just know that his character will be completely destroyed,he probably will be a bastard with dark hair and we already won’t have the Maelor storyline for him,we definitely won’t see him making Ser Hugh and Ulf change sides or any of his victories with Tessarion.He will probably be marginalized like he already is,because again you can only like team black and only them can have the best.

How can you “pick a side” like they desperately want you to do,when they do shit like this?Literally forcing you to like team black because they are paint as the saints/good guys and assassinated every good thing about team green?

Keep telling me that this show is not team black propaganda and that’s is fair like this.

[pavel-chekov-appreciator]

I was thinking about The Logical Vulcan Bowl Cut, and T’Pring’s absolutely gorgeous hair, and the fact that any choice a Vulcan makes has to have at least the plausible deniability of logical reasoning behind it, and what that all means regarding the idea of personal expression within a society that does value aesthetics to a degree but does not value emotions.

So. Headcanon that, for Vulcans, engaging in an intricate grooming ritual like putting your hair into an elaborate hairstyle or applying makeup is considered a form of meditation.

For one, it’s creating art that is inherently temporary-hair will be unbraided, makeup will be removed-similar to sand mandalas.

Additionally, due to the diligent care taken to disconnect from their emotions, it is not uncommon for some Vulcans to also experience a mild dissociation from their bodies during times that they are working extra hard to disconnect from their emotions, and this form of meditation serves to help reconnect the mind and the body by placing focus on the physical act of personal maintenance.

If someone very suddenly starts engaging in this sort of ritual, it can be a sign that they’re going through a difficult time-that is to say, experiencing something that threatens to elicit a strong emotional response, either positive or negative, which requires an increased level of disconnection. It’s just as common to see someone taking extra care on their hair or makeup following the birth of a new child as it is following the death of a parent.

It’s largely considered rude to comment on or inquire about this-it is instead taken as a sign that this person is acting responsibly and engaging in the necessary meditations to maintain their control.

T’Pring is serving absolute cunt at her wedding because she’s been suppressing her very strong feelings about Not Wanting To Marry Spock and Being In Love With Stonn and Hoping Stonn Doesn’t Die and Feeling Kinda Guilty About This But What Else Can She Do.

This woman is going through it, and everyone can tell. But the people around her just assume she’s basically got the Vulcan equivalent of pre-wedding jitters-suppressing affection towards her partner, and/or concern over her first experience of Pon Farr.

Similarly, Spock wears makeup every day as a more mild form of this ritual because he’s pretty much always working way too hard to suppress his feelings and Kirk is Right There and he loves him So Much and then he feels bad for loving him but That’s A Feeling Too, Fuck.

Pictured, a man who is also Going Through It.

Anyways the conclusion to this is that the cuntier a Vulcan is the closer they are to absolutely fucking losing it.

[your-nanas-house]

The Beginning

◇ Pairing: Tom Riddle X professor!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, manipulation, forbidden relationship, Tom Riddle, bath, nudity, dub-con, short age gap

◇ Summary: Tom notices that his favourite professor is a bit stressed.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Both character are aged up. Part 2 Part 3, Part 4

The room was filled with the chit chat of students who were taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, a subject often called simply DADA by everyone.

In the background of the big lesson room, there was soft music that created an almost pleasant atmosphere in contrast to the type of class that was taking place which had quite heavy topics that frightened many and intrigued others.

One of those people who were fascinated by the subject was Tom Riddle himself, clever boy, Slytherin and much more, especially the darling of professors, of every professor, except Albus Dumbledore, so the young professor Y/l/n was no exception.

There was a special bond between the wunderkind student and the professor, almost intimate if someone misinterpreted it but it was nothing like that or at least that was how it was for Y/n, the young witch had only managed to get her job a few years earlier and right from the start, thanks to the passion for her subject shared with Tom, they began to bond.

The Slytherin student who had now come of age and managed to become the head boy as well as a prefect, had approached the teacher to find out more secrets about magic and because he surprisingly found their conversations interesting as well as entertaining.

This was the real reason why he had started a few months after he met her to pretend to meet her by chance while walking around the castle, thus starting a routine between the two of them that happened almost every day if Y/n wasn't busy with her duties as a Hogwarts professor, which happened sometimes and which annoyed Tom for some strange reason.

Y/n was convinced that Tom saw her as a mother figure, someone to follow and learn from, and so did the young adult, but everything changed one evening.

After a busy astronomy lesson Tom wanted to visit his favorite teacher before heading back to his dormitory but when he reached the door of her classroom, hoping to find her still there, voices made him stop in his tracks.

The door was slightly open and he could easily see what was going on inside Miss Y/l/n's classroom.

She was inside, leaned against a table as she listened attentively to what someone was saying to her, Tom couldn't recognise the man so close to the woman with that look that the student had learned was lustful from the experience of his peers.

The whole situation awakened something all too well known inside the Slytherin heir, envy, pure green envy and resentment turned against them, something animalistic flared up inside him, a need to prove himself just as he had done at the orphanage when he was still a child.

Perhaps that was the reason that started the break of the platonic feelings the student had for his teacher.

New thoughts ran through his head as he decided how to move the pawns of his game in such a way as to receive what he wanted and thought he deserved, waiting patiently for the most suitable moment which came one summer night.

It had been a few months since the beginning of her senior year but they were almost at the end, his attitude had not changed in the slightest towards Miss Y/n and so the young woman did not suspect anything when she received a letter from Tom asking her for urgent help and giving her the coordinates of where to meet.

Worried, the young woman rushed to what she discovered was the prefects' bathroom, she was breathing heavily and was ready to solve whatever the problem was.

The young woman however had expected everything but her favorite student to wander calmly around the bathroom as he arranged the water and suds, meeting her eyes with his cold black ones, a faint smile forming on his face when he spoke "professor".

The atmosphere was suspicious in a way, suspicious but relaxing, since the aroma of soap filled the room as Tom tended to his clothes leaving them propped elegantly on a chair so they couldn't get wet "what's going on, Tom? I got your owl and I came as soon as I could" Y/n declared while she looked around, studying the bathroom in order to understand the riddle and discover why Tom Riddle had made her run all the way there.

She didn't even realize what the boy was doing before he was surrounded by the water and the foam caught her attention again.

Tom was standing in the tub, his clothes forgotten on the chair as the water made his pale skin and nearly Greek god muscles stand out; Y/n couldn't help but notice how his student had grown over the summer, making space for a decidedly attractive young man who reminded her very much of a Greek statue while her y/e/c moved around studying the parts of his skin on view, reaching his neck and finally his face.

She only realised she was holding her breath when their eyes met again, the situation they were in became much clearer to her and a blush appeared on her face making her turn quickly to give privacy to the young man who was staring at her amused with an unfamiliar twinkle behind his pitch black eyes.

She could hear him moving in the water, probably moving closer to where she was before speaking again "I've noticed that you are under a lot of stress lately....I thought a bath might help you, professor" the Slytherin revealed with a mischievous smile that relented slightly when she politely declined several times before attempting to leave the room, soon ending up in the water though, Tom's arms wrapped around her as if they were two snakes, his breath was warm against her neck and she could feel him take in her scent before letting his lips graze the delicate skin of that area "I know you want it too" whispered the young man almost in an attempt to seduce her as he sensed the shiver that ran through her body.

"No one will have to know, my mouth will remain closed" he whispered again, licking this time behind her ear before starting to play with her lobe using his teeth "come on...professor".

Miss Y/l/n's eyes flattered closed despite the fact that she tried to fight her lust, but it was immensely difficult with Tom's large, long hands, which traveled slowly all over her body exploring and almost expertly touching the areas that would make her give in.

It was as if there was a study behind it, his hands traveled with the wisdom of someone who had studied but not yet experimented with practice, this however did not silence the voices telling her not to do it.

The struggle in her head continued and the more time passed the harder it was to resist, especially now that the young adult's body was right against her back and she could feel everything from his muscular chest to his abs to his hard cock against her lower back.

His warm breath was against her now cold neck, making her

shiver and sigh deeply memorising how Tom was touching her because it had been quite some time since she had fucked anyone.

Despite the urge boiling inside her, Y/n shifted, slipping from the wizard's strong grip, stopping his next movements by placing her hand on his smooth chest.

Tom's black eyes met her y/e/c's, his large hand with long, skinny fingers wrapped around her wrist, slowly moving it to his lips, his tongue tracing its way to the inside of her hand before stopping to allow their lips to meet in a strangely soft kiss.

Miss Y/n's tits were against Tom's muscular, pale chest, her hands buried in his black hair as the boy's arms were around her waist bringing her even closer to him.

Their lips moved slowly, both of them lost in the shared sensation, exploring one of the tastes after another. It all ended, however, when Y/n regained control, noticing the head of his cock brushing against her entrance almost as if teasing her.

Reason because she forced herself to pull Tom away from her before licking her lips, weighing up her various options, she wasn't going to go all through with one of her students, it wasn't even supposed to end up like this and yet there she was in a bath with the most talented student at Hogwarts trying to seduce her.

Tom moved closer just as her internal debate ended, it only took her hand to stop him and her gaze followed by a teacher's tone to make him obey "get out of the water, sit on the edge of the pool...this is to stay between us, it won't happen again and I don't want to talk about it ever again, do you understand?" she asked after a few seconds the last question before admiring how Tom's body, shifted and emerged from the water to position itself like she had asked.

And there he was, Tom Marvolo Riddle, in all his glory and nakedness, his legs spread for her and an intense gaze focused solely on her. The young professor had listened to several conversations of the horny schoolgirls going after Tom but had not at all expected what she had in front of her now.

That didn't frighten her though, they had already reached a moment of no return and her hands instinctively moved to the young man's muscular, hairy thighs; they traveled a slow, teasing pace that made all the remaining blood go right down into his now rock hard cock.

The wizard admired closely as Y/n's hands moved over his length, pumping him a couple of times using the water as lubricant before she moved her face closer and left little licks on the tip.

Their eyes met and her mouth continued to work on him, exactly as her hands did, causing small moans followed by hisses that came out of Tom's perfect lips.

His dark eyes had not yet moved away from her just as Y/e/c's were still focused on him, it was intense.

Her tongue came out of her mouth to lick the entire length a couple of times and then take him completely in her mouth, deep throating him without him expecting it.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, Tom's thighs shaked slightly under her hands as sinful grunts escaped his lips; his hips began to move without even meaning to, his tingling hand lusting for dominance gripped her wet hair in a tight grip so that he could choose his movements.

His hips moved swiftly as he fucked her mouth mercilessly focused on achieving his first peak of pleasure, it was a almost suffocation feeling, Tom needed more, much more, but he had almost reached his peak.

The wizard only released his hold when he came, now leaving Y/n free to move as she wanted, despite this the young witch focused her attention till the end on his tip, sucking gently as her hands massaged his balls almost as if she was milking him.

As soon as she realized she had taken every last drop, Y/n slowly pulled away, swallowing it all while looking into Tom's eyes.

The young professor had to avoid him in order to reach the entrance to the prefects' door without falling for another attempt at seduction by the student.

The two looked at each other in silence, Tom wanted to say something but Y/n silenced him with one last kiss, followed by an elegant movement of her wand and three words "this stays here".

As soon as she finished speaking she walked out of the bathroom leaving Tom standing there all alone, looking at the door, his body now dry and his uniform back, it was as if nothing had happened, as if everything had only been in his head but the lipstick marks proved something else.

In fact they only confirmed the wonderful and unexpected sensations he had felt in those few minutes he had been with her, he knew that she had sensed that it was the first time he had done this kind of activity but he also knew that she wanted more, he wanted more, there was something more and Tom was going to take it at all costs.

Things had not begun and ended that night in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts, the wizard would make sure of that and he would not put an end to what he had managed to get…what he had been craving for some time and now knew he could have.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @huntress-valkyrie , @lostmyremembrall, @pastelpiisces

[runnning-outof-time]

The Special Touch | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: A small, small detail brings back memories of a person in Tommy Shelby’s life that was able to do something not many can.

Warnings: language, drinking

Word Count: 3102

A/N: the structure of this one’s a little wonky, but I think it reads cohesively…I hope it comes off that way for you. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: the italicized dialogue in the story is taken directly from season 1 of the show.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

comment/message me if you want to be tagged!

(Y/N)'s food was the only thing Tommy Shelby actually ate.

Sure, he still didn't willingly sit himself at the table when it came time for a meal, but (Y/N)'s cooking coaxed him in more often than it didn't.

What started as a woman trying to impress the family of a man she dearly liked - that form of impressing coming through a lovely, homemade apple pie - quickly blossomed into (Y/N) being the Shelby family cook. Polly was probably the happiest about this - she no longer had to tackle the family meals alone.

Tommy was also happy about this - being that he quickly made sure that she was his - because it meant that he was able to spend much more time with her. Hell, he'd even happily endure the enhanced teasing from his family...Tommy hadn't spent this much time at home since he was a child. But (Y/N), and her cooking, had him coming home more often than anything else.

And he enjoyed it.

On this particular evening, she had decided to make some plum bread to bring to the Shelby family. It was one of her favorite recipes, one that she only brought out every once in a while.

Tonight would be a special night for it, she thought. She and Tommy had been officially together for eight months, but it was on this night one year ago that they shared their feelings with each other and decided that they’d commit themselves to one another.

She worked all day to make the bread not only for this occasion, but also because she wanted to see if his family liked it as much as hers did.

It was late afternoon when she made her way over to the house on Watery Lane. She hoped that everyone was home because with each step her eagerness was building - she wanted as many people as possible to try the bread she’d baked.

She could hear the inhabitants of the house before she saw them as she entered through the front door.

She heard Tommy speak in a low voice, “you’re alright,” as the sound of pain-filled hisses filled the room.

Then came a statement that made (Y/N) stop: “he said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said…something about a robbery.” It was Arthur who was speaking. “He said he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t help coppers,” she heard John chime in.

“He knew all about our war records,” Arthur continued, “he said we’re patriots…like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said—” another pain-filled hiss left the eldest siblings lips, and it was followed by a soft ‘shh’. He continued once the pain had been assuaged, “I said we’d have a family meeting and take a vote,” he finished his statement.

A pause filled the room. (Y/N), who’d been standing still and listening in since she entered the dwelling, couldn’t stand in the same position any longer. Despite her efforts not to, her weight shifted, making the floorboard creak underneath her foot.

Tommy looked up from the ground upon hearing the sound, and his intense gaze connected with her worried one instantly. “We’ll discuss this later,” he then addressed his family in a low tone.

“What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” Arthur asked, annoyance laced into his tone.

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists,” Polly chimed in, her tone matching Arthur’s.

Tommy’s eyes were still locked on (Y/N), who now felt like she had to make her presence known. She took a few steps forward into the room before speaking, “I’m sorry I…I didn’t know what I was arriving to,” she hesitantly said, feeling several pairs of eyes now locked onto her. She tried to withhold her expression, but surely there was a look of pain present on her face as she took in Arthur’s bloodied one. “Goodness,” she gasped, the tension quickly becoming too much for her to bear, “I…I wanted to bring something over for the evening. I baked plum bread from scratch,” she said, holding the enclosed tray out in front of her.

“Well isn’t that just bloody perfect,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Silence hung in the room and (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure what to do. It seemed like every person in the family was glaring daggers at Tommy, and Tommy was just standing, brooding in front of the free-standing stove.

“I can just…I can leave and come back at a better…”

“No!” John interrupted her, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against, “you’re here now, so let’s try some of this bread.”

“Ok,” there was still a great deal of hesitance present in (Y/N)’s voice, but she still allowed John to take the tray from her hands when he motioned for it. She then glanced in Tommy’s direction, seeing that he was still glaring at the floor. Above everything else, she really wanted to speak to him. The conversation she walked in on was still in the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t sure how to make the first move though.

“Oh, (Y/N), this is grand!” John’s review of the bread cut through her thoughts, making her focus on the small group that was now trying it. Ada nodded her head in agreement with her brother as Polly quietly ate her piece. She didn’t look displeased with it though. Arthur was still staring at the piece that had been placed in front of him. (Y/N) figured he wouldn’t eat it that moment though, given the state he was currently in. A small smile creeped onto her face as she watched them enjoy the thing she’d spent so long baking.

“Tommy you’ve got to try it! It’s absolutely amazing, as always,” Ada said to her older brother, hoping that her shining review would coax him into having a bite.

“I’ll have some later,” he brushed her statement off, his eyes finding (Y/N) again. “(Y/N), can I talk to you?” he asked her then, his brows raising slightly.

“Yes,” she answered softly, knowing there really wasn’t any other response she could give.

He nodded before tipping his head in the direction of the betting shop doors. She nodded in agreement, wordlessly following behind him as they went into that section of the building.

The walk felt so long, even though they were really only moving to the next room over. (Y/N) bit on her cheek as she tried to think of what to say. She knew she wanted to be the first to speak. “What did I walk in on back there?” was what she settled on asking as they both came to a stop.

“It was nothing,” Tommy brushed the question off.

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” she doubled down, not buying his diversion. “Who has Mr. Churchill sent?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tried another escape route.

“You’re helping the cops now?” she asked another question.

“(Y/N)…” his tone held a warning.

“Why does Arthur look like that?” her exasperation finally shined through this question as she motioned to the room they’d just left.

Tommy exhaled a sigh as he looked away from his partner. It was already enough that his entire family was coming down on him…he didn’t need it from her as well. “This isn’t something you need to worry about, (Y/N),” he told her once he composed himself.

“You said you wouldn’t hold anything from me, Tommy,” she reminded him of a promise that he made to her in their early months. A promise that came as a result of him showing up to her family’s house broken and bloodied…over something he couldn’t share.

Her parents hated him from that day forward, but she found a way to continue to see him. He assured her that would be the last time nothing was withheld…until now it seems.

“This is different,” he shook his head.

“Different how?” she asked for him to elaborate.

“Different in the sense that if it all goes according to plan, we move up in the world,” his elaboration was still vague.

“That doesn’t tell me much,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well it’s all I can share,” his tone was now dismissive as he lifted his hand, his palm to the ceiling.

(Y/N) stared at him for a few moments, silently hoping that he’d take that statement back and clue her in to what was going on. She had to bite on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering after those moments had passed and nothing more was said.

“Well I think I need to leave then,” she finally said, her voice just above a whisper.

Tommy’s brows furrowed at her statement, “what?”

“You promised that you wouldn’t keep anything from me, that there’d be no secrets in regards to what sort of business you’re doing,” she reminded him, “we agreed that that would be the only way we could work.”

“I said that this was different, (Y/N),” he argued his cause, “there has to be an exception for it.”

“I can’t make an exception, Tommy,” she shook her head, her tone slightly wavering, “because if I make one now, you’ll have me making another down the road.”

“(Y/N), I don’t need this…”

“Do you know what day it is, Tommy?” she cut him off, her eyebrows raised. He said nothing. “Huh?” she asked for a response. Silence was all she got. “You don’t…” she sighed in defeat, shaking her head as she looked to the floor. “It’s been a year…one whole year since we shared our feelings for each other. One whole year since I thought I found the person who I was going to be with for the rest of my life. But now I don’t know anymore…”

“(Y/N)…” he tried to get out but she wasn’t hearing it.

“This is your last chance,” she gave him the ultimatum, “tell me or I leave.”

The tension between the two was practically palpable. (Y/N) waited on bated breath for him to share what he’d been hiding from her. Tommy weighed his options in his mind - no one knew that he still had the guns in his possession. He was hoping that the last person who knew was (Y/N). But now since she stumbled in on that conversation, she wanted to know more. He’d remembered the promise he made those several months ago. And while the last thing he wanted to do was break it, he just couldn’t bring himself to reveal the secret he was withholding from the entire family. If she knew, everyone would know, was his thinking.

“I’m leaving,” she made her decision, cutting into his thoughts and making him realize that he hadn’t said anything.

She took one last look at him, honestly still hoping that he’d make some grand gesture and save everything, but he just stood there, a look of disbelief clear across his face. She had to follow through with her decision. With a deep breath, she walked past him and exited the building through the betting shop door. Turning and walking back past the family would have been too much for her. She needed to get away with the least amount of Shelbys seeing her.

Tommy blinked a few times after the door to the shop closed. He was frozen in disbelief. So much had happened in the span of a short time. And now (Y/N) was gone.

He remembered the bottle of rum that he’d brought for Arthur’s wounds. It wasn’t whiskey, but the last thing he wanted to do was go out now, so the rum would do.

Polly, John and Arthur were still sitting in the kitchen when he re-entered it. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them, instead making a b-line for the bottle of alcohol and bringing it to his lips the second he had it in his hands.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Arthur questioned, looking less bloody now than he had before.

“She left,” Tommy answered before taking another drink from the bottle.

“Shame…this bread’s fucking amazing,” John shared his praises for the woman’s baking skills. “You should try some,” he insisted.

“I don’t want any,” Tommy shook his head.

“Try some!” Arthur shouted, motioning to the small portion of the bread that was left, “before we eat it all on ya.”

“Fine,” Tommy huffed under his breath, moving over to where the baked good was sitting. He took the knife and cut himself the smallest slice, putting it right into his mouth and eating it without giving any clue as to what he thought of it. He then walked out of the room, exiting the home the opposite way (Y/N) had.

The three remaining people in the room all watched him leave, wondering what exactly was making him even more vexed than usual.

“More for us,” John shrugged, his carefree comment clearing the tension as he moved over to cut himself another slice of the bread.

Tommy returned to the house on Watery Lane later that evening and let out a sigh of relief when he found what he was looking for.

There was still a small piece of the plum bread (Y/N) had brought over left of the table. He sighed as he sat down on one of the chairs before reaching out to take the leftover piece.

Another sigh left his lips as he ate the bread. He couldn’t get (Y/N) out of his mind since she left him earlier, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fighting with himself over what he should do now.

As much as he wanted her in his life, he had to honor her wishes. And even if she posed the earlier question to him again, he wasn’t sure if he’d give a different response. What was happening now was different…he had to keep his cards close to his chest. She should have understood that, right?

He couldn’t deny that he missed her though. The fact that he actually came back to have a second piece of the bread she made for them had him realizing that there would be many reasons why he’d be missing her.

“I have something for you,” the barmaid, Grace, announced as she entered the snug, where the three oldest Shelby brothers had been holed up for the majority of the day. She’d been working at the Garrison for several months now, and she’d quickly found her place within the establishment.

“What is it?” Arthur asked as he brought his glass up to his lips, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Plum bread. I made it…figured you’d need something after all of the meetings that have been happening,” she answered, explaining the reason behind the gesture.

John and Arthur exchanged a look upon hearing what she’d brought. They hadn’t had plum bread since (Y/N) left it for them. Hesitantly, they looked over at Tommy. His expression wasn’t readable.

“Leave it on the table and then you’re good to go, Grace,” Tommy spoke up to instruct her. He felt his brothers’ eyes on him, and knew that they’d be watching closely to see what he’d do next.

“Ok,” she nodded, carefully setting the serving dish and accompanying plates on the table before she turned and exited the snug.

The three men looked at the bread for a few moments. John and Arthur both didn’t want to be the first to make a move, and they most certainly knew that Tommy wasn’t going to.

It was kind of Grace to bake for them, and they no doubt took it as one of her attempts to break the ice between her and the Shelby family. She’d been chipping away at it since she arrived months ago.

But the elephant in the room was looming large now, and it had made itself known via the choice of baked good that the aforementioned blonde woman had brought.

“Shall we try it then?” Arthur was the first to finally speak up. He took his eyes off the dish for a moment to look at his brothers.

“Might as well,” John shrugged as he replied.

Now they both were looking at Tommy. It became apparent that they weren’t going to make a move until he signed off on it. “Go on,” he finally instructed them, motioning to the bread with his chin.

That was all the two men needed. Arthur took on the job of cutting the bread while John divvied out the plates. They even cut a piece for Tommy, who didn’t seem like he was too keen on eating it.

What they did not need was an invitation to eat the bread. More silence filled the room as they did so. It took a few bites from both of them before they were sharing a look with each other. Something had been silently agreed upon between them, and now they were deciding whether they should share their thoughts with Tommy.

“How is it?” Tommy broke into their nonverbal conversation, knowing the looks they were sharing all too well.

“It’s…” Arthur started, finishing his statement off with a breath instead of continuing before he looked to John for assistance. Between the two of them, he knew the latter was a more colorful commentator.

“It’s not like hers,” John filled in the blank, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at the remaining piece of bread on his plate.

The name didn’t even need to be said. Tommy knew who they were taking about. He exhaled a breath before nodding his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the piece sitting in front of him.

“She ain’t got that special touch like (Y/N) did,” Arthur then added his thoughts, addressing the elephant in the room by name.

Tommy’s look was once again unreadable. Glimpses of the woman he’d lost were swirling around his mind, and they wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he wished he would have done things differently. He wished she was still in his life.

What’s done is done was always what came to mind when he got to thinking like that. But even though that phrase came to mind, he still wasn’t going to try the bread, for his remembrance of how she made it was one of the only good things he had left.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @mischievouslittlecreature

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername

@depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium

@brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

@shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[lady06reaper]

Viking x Sweetheart reader. Who on the outside is a big sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly. Said Viking got her from a village.

Only when alone with her husband does she cuss like a sailor and scream when she wants to. Just a overall temper (Viking finds it hot tho-)

She also acts like this around her kids (if she has any) and her kids are absolutely flabbergasted to see how their mom acts outside of home. Often getting secretly slapped upside the head when they say something smart only to realize no one saw it.

- Marshmellow (bit of a crackfic lol)

ya know, this the OPPOSITE of me, I'll cuss anytime, it's only when I'm alone I'm a total "sweetheart"

NSFW lines are slashed, the rest is SFW besides the cussing

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU HAVING THE MOUTH OF A SAILOR

Bjorn wouldn't know it was coming, you were the sweet and doting wife, helping neighbors and playing with the local children

Your were a delicate flower in his eyes, but he knew you could hold your own when need be

Until you came home and slammed your dagger into the table where he was eating

"That mother fucking no tits asshole of a cunt! Who the hell does she think she is?! Talking about my damn husband in that fucking manner!"

his hand stopped mid path to his opened mouth, his eyebrows rose away from his widened eyes

did he hear that correctly? or was the mead taking effect already?

he stayed like that for a few moments until you snapped at him to say something

"Your mouth, where'd you learn to talk like that?"

little to Bjorns knowledge, you had always had that vocabulary, it just only came out when you were pissed

not to mention you prefer to keep the innocent facade up in public, but that doesn't you can't flip the switch if you get pushed more than what you did that day

More occurrences like this happened, though he was prepared to just let you go and cool off

that doesn't mean he didn't help you let out your frustrations with sex either

Now he knew that this delicate flower of his was poisonous

Ubbe had a feeling that that mouth of yours was dirty, he just never witnessed it

unless you were going down on him

the feeling stayed dormant for the longest time, until he came home to the long house turned upside down

furniture was strewn across from its original places, some were broken too

You were sitting on the throne throwing daggers at a table you had propped up on its side, cussing every time the enlarged knives left your hands

"That *thud* little dicked *thud* no balls *thud* bastard child *thud* of a fucking merchant! *thud*"

he now knew his feeling was right, as they normally were

he was grateful you ran out of daggers when he reached you, or otherwise he feared one would end up in him

he didn't need no explanation, he knew that the merchant you were lewdly referring to must've tried something on you to woo you away from him, it wasn't the first time, but you were so sweet in public that you didn't want to ruin your public look by cussing the man out in public

no words were spoken as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bathtub where you and Ubbe would share a relaxing soak

Ivar knew from the start that you had a mouth, there was no way you were as innocent as you portrayed

there was always two sides to sword, he just hasn't seen your sharper, more deadlier side

until he about took your blade to his throat when he approached you in the woods while you were hacking a tree with your sword

"What's the matter my dove?" Ivar cocked his head to the side.

"That god damn fish fucking tree humping shit eating whore of woman your brother keeps closely by his side! Bitch tried to say my form was wrong during training!"

and there was your sharper edge

Ivar never understood why you kept this side hidden, especially from him

he figured it was a threat to everyone to have your meaner side out in public, and keep your softer side for him only

but Ivar wasn't you, you preferred to keep this side a secret incase you truly needed it

he thought it was hot watching those profanities drip from your mouth

like his cum did last night when you two were fucking

but, I also know that if he encouraged the sailor talk he would also receive it too, which would most likely turn into a battle of who can come up with the worst names

he liked the fiery side of you and wished you would show it more often

the villagers did not as they heard every cuss word that came out of your mouth, including the whore