#in honor of her just screaming her head off for no reason | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadsbongos · 26 days ago

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for honor. and duty.

3.2k words / warnings - forced breeding, injections, drugging, unhappy end, reader is written as a woman

summary - it's his job to carry on the bloodline, and its your job to love Satoru Gojo; thankless as both gigs are.

kinktober: day nine - breeding, aphrodisiac ~~~

Satoru was disinterested in fathering children.

While he loved teaching, and teasing Megumi throughout the years was a joy, raising an entire person from scratch? An unnecessary addition to his plate he would rather be without. Besides, he was only scratching at his late 20s, why should he rush into having babies?

His feelings were not hidden, either. Everything about Satoru screamed childfree. Most respected the decision; for the Gojo clan to be written into history with Satoru as the cataclysmic final bang -- the sole pillar maintaining his clan’s status in the big three. It would be an honor and a pleasure, were he humble enough to silently accept both.

But Satoru loves whining.

“Too bad the Six Eyes and Limitless will be totally lost to time when I die…” he pouts every time he says it. Purely to gloat that not only does he have both, but he will be the last one in history, “If only someone could take them off my hands, huh?”

Maybe he should’ve just shut his mouth.

…

“Why don’t you donate, then?” Shoko snarks one random Wednesday, finally fed up with Satoru’s haughty huffs this particular lunch break, “I’m sure your swimmers wouldn’t be unwelcome if they could make another special grade.”

“Gross, Sho,” you gag, then pointing at the man, “Don’t respond to that.”

Predictably, you’re ignored, “But who would be worthy, Shoko? Huh?” Satoru snickers when you gag even louder, “It’d have to be another sorcerer, you know? Can’t just put a super baby in any ole lady.”

“I’m sure you could find someone for a good price,” Shoko leans onto her palm, “Some high up clan girl. A Zen’in? It’d make her life better by getting out of that place, I bet.”

“Can we not talk about this while I’m eating, please?” you gesture to your lunch, though you hardly have the appetite for it now anyway.

“You can say you’re jealous,” Satoru teases into your ear, laying his head on your shoulder. There’s no warmth of skin to feel, and if you closed your eyes the weight wouldn’t be reasonable for a human head either -- much lighter. Airier. As if he isn’t there at all.

“I’m not jealous of not being your incubator, Gojo.”

“Harsh!” he dramatically clutches over his heart, sucking in a breath like he’d been stabbed, “What happened to first name privileges?”

“Revoked,” you flick his head knowing it’ll never land. Knowing he’ll never feel you.

Shoko simpers, long nails tapping against the creaky break room table. When you shoot over a quizzical glance, those nails stretch over her lips; covering so you alone can make out what she mouths: ‘jealous’.

You mimic the motion to mouth back: ‘fuck you’.

“Hey,” Satoru wraps both arms around you (no warmth, no weight), “Secrets among friends is asking for trouble.”

“Donating out soldier serum is asking for trouble,” Shoto snickers.

“You suggested it!”

You roll your eyes at the pair, hoping this was the last you would hear of Satoru’s semen stumper, “Well, I’d love to stick around, but you two are disgusting.”

“Boo,” Shoko wads up the shrink of her microwave meal and tosses it at your head.

“Boo!” Satoru echoes the sentiments louder, fingers clinging to your uniform until his long arms can stretch no further.

“Yeah, whatever!” you holler back, “As if the higher ups will even let you just donate!”

Those traditional old heads will want a “proper” heir, and there is no way Satoru would get suckered into that.

It’s part of why loving him is so difficult.

Because loving Satoru means having to share him: always. He is overwhelmingly busy between his work as a sorcerer and his passion as a mentor. Your love for him will forever be yours to own, but Satoru himself could never be.

Perhaps that’s what Suguru realized when he tried years ago, when Satoru was always gone and the space between them only grew. Perhaps that’s why he decided to close Satoru out completely.

“You actually gonna donate sperm?” Shoko returns her tired gaze to her friend, quirking a brow when he laughs and shakes out his phone.

“Nah, the geezers just keep pestering me,” he mimics a flapping mouth with his hand, “Blah, blah spreading the genes- blah, blah good of the clan. As if they care about the good of the clan.”

“They might,” she snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to hide a grin.

Both of them know full well otherwise.

“I’m just gonna tell them,” he re-pockets his phone, purposefully ignoring the buzzing call of Gakuganji, “Face to face this time, so they can’t ignore it.”

“Ooh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“What’re you gonna say, big man?”

Satoru smiles bright, all cocky and sure and cool, “‘There is no way that you bags of bones will ever convince me to have kids.’”

. . .

A cold, soaked cotton pad is swiped over the triangle of your inner elbow, disinfecting the area before introducing a syringe.

You once asked Satoru why he bothered remaining a sorcerer under Jujutsu Tech when he obviously hates the higher-ups. His response, of course, was lackluster and chock full of holes (“Nobody else can do what I do,” he rolls his hand laxly, “Also, it's the only thing that doesn’t make me so bored I contemplate blowing my brains out.”).

You remember rolling your eyes with a single word reply, deeply unimpressed with his typical lack of tact (“Inspiring.”). Similarly, you remember thinking that you wanted to stay by his side, despite his annoying insensitivity.

When you got the panicked call from Shoko, you considered it a test. The universe cruelly examining your dedication. Ever the fool, you sped for the address she spat over the phone to prove yourself.

Now, you can’t even have the shame of reconsideration.

The bedroom has a camera in the far right corner, on the wall opposite a large observation mirror. Men in white coats pace back and forth, scribbling notes and judging every exact twinge in Satoru’s muscles. Satoru is positioned on a king bed with white sheets, hands latched behind his back in solid shackles with a radiant lock.

“He’s not hurt, right?”

“No,” the lead man steadies a needle to the sterilized juncture, “We never want to hurt Gojo,” his eyes flick up to the pinch in your face as the needle punctures your skin, “Or you.”

“He looks miserable…”

Three doctors turn to you, glaring. The man administering a blue, gluey serum into your veins sighs loudly, “Yes, well… you will be, too…”

The doctor folding your discarded clothes on the left scoffs, shaking his head.

Sometimes you spend so much time with Satoru that you forget how mean men can be.

“It should begin taking effect in just minutes,” the man steps back, letting one of his many assistants undo your tethers, “Mostly an additive,” he clarifies, “You don’t really need it, your stamina doesn’t matter much to us here. You can head in for him now.”

Your stamina may not matter to them, but you’d personally like to be awake as long as possible for this.

“Did you tell him it was me?”

Your question is ignored. So you step through the men and creep into the other room. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder to confirm the study window only reflects yourself. And Satoru.

Satoru.

The name is saccharine sweet in your mind. His head twists in your direction, blindfold gone and eyes comically wide. His eyes are dimmer than usual, though that isn’t very surprising when you were explicitly told the drug dampened cursed energy.

Your eyes rake over his body -- red and writhing and naked. Satoru’s gaze falls from your face to your chest to between your thighs, eyes widening further. You know he’s had partners before (lots of them, in fact), so the shock is unwarranted. Unless, of course, it’s because it’s you and not the random woman from a high up clan he assumed it’d be.

A stern voice breaks out from the far right corner of the room.

“He is willing.”

You gnaw your bottom lip anxiously, squinting through harsh overhead lights to the two-way mirror over your shoulder. Then, your eyes return to Satoru, knelt on the mattress and bare -sans the stocks cuffed around his wrist.

“Satoru…?” your face boils, gut fairing no better. Veins direct gutters for the goopy blue in your system, and it's pumping fast.

He copies your quiet, uttering your name through the still observation room, “You?”

“Is it…” you crawl onto the bed, convinced that his skin on yours could cure the overwhelming swelter in the room, “Am I okay?”

He nods limply, hair falling into crystalline eyes, “It’s you.”

Bright fluorescents dim to a more bearable, faint glow. Swallowing the last of your reservations with the swell in your throat, you turn your back to Satoru -- both knees firm on the plush mattress.

Though his chest beats in sporadic, panicked breaths, Satoru’s lean hips are still -- perfect for reaching between your thighs and grasping his stood cock. He clenches his angel eyes shut to your flesh, but the waves and dips of your cursed energy stubbornly persist in his vision. He sees the wavering as your lust grows, he knows his is the same. Worse, even. So swallowed up in his belly by enforced desire that a stable flow is impossible to maintain.

Satoru is easy in your grasp, slipping inside you with whimpered pleas and huffs. You curve him into you, backing onto Satoru until your soft flesh is flush with his. Heat tickles up your spine, chilling at your neck and causing a rabid shiver all down your shoulders.

Leaning forward onto your elbows, you slip over Satoru’s cock -- sliding along him with manufactured fervor (if you focus hard enough, you can still feel the needle incision stretch in your arm).

The stocks rattle as Satoru jerks forward with a thick groan, hips now eager to pap, pap pap! onto yours. Bonds creak, splinters wailing in protest of his strength as he claws out to reach you. Satoru throws his head back, every sensitive nerve set ablaze just by the warmth and squeeze of your cunt.

His shortburst thrusts don’t dig far enough even though you’re kissing hips every time -- he feels overstimulated and yet unfulfilled. He needs to have both hands bound on your hips -squeezing the flesh on your bones and flipping and bending and making you keen under his lithe fingers.

He cannot discern if the need is driven by drooly chemical injection or longstanding affection, and he isn’t bothering himself with the question now.

“Wanna touch,” he mumbles pathetically, red in the face and sweat beading down his forehead, white bangs slick to the skin, “Need it…” he gasps as you arch, stretching one of your legs to curl around his thigh, “Need to touch!"

As if spontaneously occurring to the crew that Satoru is pleading with them, the leading man jingles over with his key. He looks at the sedation team for extra assurance before unlocking Satoru’s stocks.

Once the bonds clatter to the floor, Satoru is raking his nails across your body -- thighs, stomach, back, anywhere he can reach he’s eagerly clawing. Pulling and pushing before he collapses over you, his chest scorching your back. He stretches his neck to press his cheek to yours, lips loose and babbling,

“So good, so good, love how you feel -- wanna fuck you,” his brain must be falling through his lips because he seems to forget he’s already fucking you, “Wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you,” he lays sloppy kisses over your shoulder, teething at the sensitive bone, “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty girl? Yeah? Gonna make me a daddy, yeah?”

Hanging one arm below, he swirls the soft pads of his fingers over your clit -- soaked with the syrup his cock fucks free. His large hand expands over the pouch of your tummy to snugly press his thumb into your doughy skin; thumping where he’s battering your insides.

“Feel me there, mama? S’wet ‘n’ desperate, you want me bad,” he giggles deliriously, humping at your sex in plasticine frenzy before twitching to completion.

Satoru thinks he could go all day.

Thick arms tied around your waist, keeping your chest bare to his with both knees crimped over Satoru’s shoulders. His overconfidence proves itself as he thrusts up into you, lips pressing wetly onto yours while drooling out affectionate slurs,

“Best girl, pretty and hot and so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you? You love me, sweet girl? I think you do- know you do.”

Satoru stills only when more cum is pumped into your womb, pitiful mewls bobbing the apple of his throat.

You’re nodding with a heavy crown, forehead thumping into his sweaty collarbones and biting cresents in his biceps with your nails, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh - love you, ‘Toru! Love you so much…!”

Nuzzling along your flaming cheek, Satoru wriggles you loose just to flip you around to kneel in the sheets.

“I’m tired,” he muses, fingers dancing in the baby hairs at the base of your neck, “How about you do something, princess?”

You groan and pout, but don’t disobey.

Your knees are tingling and arms shaking as you twist to nestle against Satoru. Stretching back, you splay your palms over his broad chest to balance over his standing cock; then reach between your spread legs to grasp his erection. Skin soft and warm in your palm, he whimpers at the contact and throws his head back into the plush white pillow. Snowy hair tousled against the case, hips twitching up in you.

His cock bumps against your clit in his desperation and the sensation makes you clamp your knees around his waist tighter. You’re all heavy breaths and whines by the time you finally sink base-down. His cock feels hot and thick inside you, you’re not sure if it's all the eyes or whatever they stuck in your arm or the fact you’re with Satoru but your entire body is simmering.

Satoru’s hands unwind from the sheets to cling around your hips, forcefully rocking you down on him: as if to grind both your bones into paste. Cool air catches in the back of his swollen throat, your cunt wet and swallowing him back in as he tries slipping out. He lifts his head -jaw limping open and drool pooling around his raw-bitten lips- just to watch as he lifts and drops you over his cock.

Clumsily, he jerks his knees up and feet flat on the bed as the lava scorching through his veins inspires him to fuck you faster. Sweat beading and swamping all along his hairline and joints, leaving his skin sticky and sucking against yours with every thrust. Satoru’s fingers squeeze harshly around the fat of your hips, marking the skin with plum stains in the shape of his hand. If a baby isn’t enough, then these bruises surely will be bountiful evidence of your tryst.

Suddenly, Satoru sits up fully, lips pressing into your shoulder before he stabs into bone and flesh with his teeth. His arms swiftly move to curl around your waist, flushing your back to his chest as he pumps into you. One of his hands finds your breast, squishing the swells by the handful, and the other hand swooping to toy with your clit. He works slow circles into quicker swishes, thrusts speeding as the heat climbs and climbs from where he’s inside you up to your necks. Suffocating. Enveloping.

Ragged breaths pull with terrible effort from both you and Satoru. Wet slaps of skin and syrupy squelching echoing in the otherwise still room. Oddly, the sound is far from grotesque, instead spurring another sweetened gush around Satoru. The dirty, primal nature far overshadows the lurking men in white coats around the edges of the room.

You can almost pretend you’re wrapped around Satoru for real pleasure rather than duty.

Again, Satoru sloppily mouths at your skin, from the bend in your shoulder along your neck and unto the softness of your jaw. Arms clenching around your waist until you’re practically immobile in his embrace, bouncing along his cock only because he puppeteers you to do so.

Satoru moans hotly against the slope of your neck, licking the sweat off your skin just because he can. You lean into the coolness of Satoru’s tongue as your gut swirls and tightens before you’re seizing in the man’s grasp. His gaping mouth is pressed against your collarbone, slobber inking across your tit and down your arm. He hugs you tighter and soaks in full the clench of your orgasm, continuing to lathe his fingers over your clit until you’re jerking and huffing in overstimulation.

You think you hear him muttering (you hope you hear him muttering), “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

The unbearable heat is replaced by normal, merely uncomfortable heat. Satoru cuddles you against him still as he plugs you with his cum.

Soft murmurs float back into your ears, men stretching necks to gaze at the both of you and whisper amongst themselves. Satoru lazily drags the sheets high over your chest and settles back against the steely headboard.

He yelps, back arching and eyes wide, sitting upright from the board.

“What…?” you groan, exhaustion overtaking you -- limbs numb and strewn out uselessly.

“It’s cold,” he grumbles into your ear, yawning and laying against the metal headboard again (this time prepared for the stinging temperature change), “Be nice to me.”

Weakly, you make a sound of protest from the back of your throat. Brain too fried to form words.

Satoru caresses his fingers gently over your stomach, gaze fluttering to the labcoats stiffly remaining in the room. They put much effort into avoiding his stare, heads kept low and ducking behind their collars. Rolling onto his side, Satoru keeps you caged in his arms while shielding you from the mens’ stares.

He soothes his nails along the bulb of your cheek, six eyes searing through every layer of skin and muscle down to the beating of your heart. He knows, of course, that it beats for him.

Which makes him feel sick, beneath exasperated euphoria, because he knows why you’re here.

He knows the only way to give it back is with a baby neither of you really want.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #dads kinktober

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graves-simper · 1 year ago

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What really happened in Room 302?

Yes, just like everyone else I am finally doing a small essay/analysis on TCOAAL.

This time I wanted to dive in something that wasn't a big part of the game, but has been on my mind since my first play through of the game and that is like the title states; What really happened in Room 302? Lets begin.

I wanted to start off by talking about the Lady in Room 302. Who is she?

We really don't know much. Her eye color isn't shown, she looks somewhat average but in terms of others opinions (ie; the Warden's and even Ashley) She is a very pretty woman. Even at a point Andrew says that she looks good. Take a look at some of the dialog below:

I mean, wasn't she?

After this very tasteful conversation these two love-birds have, Ashley heads up to commence the ritual to sacrifice the 2nd Warden, and of course Our Ashley pulls it off with no problems, and back downstairs she goes with full intentions of painting the wall with Lady 302's brains, but it appears someone beat her to the punch.

AND NOW I PRESENT WHERE I IMMEDIATELY BEGAN TO CALL CAP ON MR. DOORMAT EXTRAORDINAIRE AND HIS SILLY LITTLE LIES.

Your honor, this man is absolutely lying. The first thing that made me question everything about his story here is where she is lying dead. On the damn bed. Your honor, let's enhance this real quick.

That nail gun is a damn good several feet away from where Lady 302 lies dead on the bed. In fact it is in exactly the same position as when we left Andrew alone with her, and look at the sheer distance. These apartments clearly aren't huge but let me just be critical for a minute. Her mattress appears to be a single style mattress, so lets take in some measurements.

I can settle on the length being 75" or 6.25ft. So the apartment is about 12 feet wide. Not huge by any means, but to go from sitting down on a bed, even the edge, she would have to make quite the lunge while accounting for some random maniac being right next to you with a meat cleaver. I also do not think she would be the type to risk her life for a daring escape. Look at how absolutely bewildered she is the second Andrew rushes her.

That is NOT the face of someone who is absolutely down to fuck around and find out. She also had a chance to get help while also risking her life, when she is given the radio she could have screamed for help, and while yes she would've died, at this point I would say the risk factor was relatively similar.

Now that I have established my reasoning for why I don't think this lady tried to kill Andrew with a nailgun or even had the chance to, let's go over some of the reasons I think he DID choose to kill her.

No Witnesses.

This is a very boring theory but I have to bring it up no less. I think there is a good chance he just said fuck it, and killed her for the sake of not leaving evidence behind. She saw their faces, heard their names, and they even said they were her neighbor from upstairs. Leaving her behind could've ruined EVERYTHING for them after this point, and based on Ashley's sour reaction to her mere existence, I think he already knew damn well Ashley would want her dead too.

Make my Ashley happy.

This ties back to the point I made in No Witnesses. Ashley took her as a threat, and obviously Andrew noticed. She was not pleased after he called her "Pretty". I think once he was alone, he figured he would off her to show Ashley that he wasn't ogling her or wanting to do anything with her. In fact she meant so little to him, he butchered her right on her bed. To support this, the way Ashley reacts when she returns absolutely floors Andrew, he is calm about what happened but Ashley is still coming up with thoughts that he tried to fuck her, when in his mind, he was probably hoping she would be thrilled that he killed this awful, hell-bound, hussie. But instead she is still somehow mad despite her being now a corpse. He becomes to fed up that even though he did what she would've anyways, it is somehow not good enough for her. (I will dive deeper into this interaction below with another theory that relies heavily on this.)

The Hussie hit on him.

This one ties into Make my Ashley happy. There is a good chance this obviously sexually attractive woman tried seducing Andrew while they were alone. She had no problem doing it with the Warden's to get better treatment, and I have no doubt this was her go-to get out of trouble free card. This charming young man would surely fall for her good looks right? Right? There's two thought processes that would make this reasonable. 1. He was worried how Ashley would react if she walked in with her clearly flirting with him and how that would make her feel. 2. My personal favorite of these two, he is dedicated to Ashley and was offended by her advances and killed her in a show of devotion to her.

Now that we have the more sane theories out of the way, lets get to the GOOD STUFF.

Andrew's Fantasy.

This theory is more of a mental guess as to Andrew's relationship and views of Ashley. He has been clearly fed up with her more than once up to this point, having arguments, dealing with her shit, and all the trauma he just experienced from starving for weeks, isolation, and having to butcher and eat someone, and then murder a man to save her.

What if once Andrew had a moment alone with someone who was essentially his victim, he decided to truly see how he felt about something. I believe Andrew may have not seen Lady 302 as Ashley, but just for the hell of it, imagined that she was Ashley. Despite the different appearances, I'm sure he could overlook it in the state of mind he was in at this point, and decided how it would feel to finally kill "Ashley". The way he kills her just doesn't feel like he said fuck it and wanted the lady dead, she is laid out on the bed, there's no signs of a struggle either. Later in the game during one of the visions, there is the one where Andrew finally kills Ashley. When she accepts that he will kill her, he brings the cleaver to her throat similarly to how the throat of Lady 302 was cut. The similarities just feel so similar that I had to bring this up despite it being possibly far fetched but that's what makes these fun!

and now for my most absolutely far fetched theory yet.

Don't these two look similar?

This theory is much more far fetched but hear me out on this!

I know this may be a result of Nemlei's artstyle but these two have some stark similarities in my opinion. Both blonde, same eye color based on the greyscale of them, similar hair parting, and a similar face shape.

After all the trauma Andrew went through in the weeks locked in their apartment and then killing several people and eating one no doubt sent his brain to a bad place.

I think after all that hell he endured he may have simply had a breaking point and felt like he saw a ghost or just the stark similarities between Lady 302 and Nina just made something snap.

I want to back this up by making a point to the story telling in the game. Before they go and escape their apartment conveniently before the Room 302 incident, there is a dream about how Andrew and Ashley killed Nina. This could be just the flow of the story telling however, I feel like it was a lead up to what really happened in Room 302. It just feels too perfect to include that scene right before he kills someone who I am assuming is what Nina may have grown up to look like, AND then with this scene occurring once Ashley returns almost feels like a nail in the coffin of this theory.

Nina isn't brought up in the apartment, or once they're in the motel. Nina is brought up during a heated exchange in Room 302 right after Andrew might have felt as if he killed Nina once again, yet just like when they killed Nina, Ashley still somehow thinks that Andrew has a thing for a woman he helped kill, and this absolutely drives him off his fucking rocker.

This exchange floored Mr. Doormat so intensely he finally was ready to absolutely throttle the life out of her. Andrew was finally so fed up with being berated for doing things for Ashley's sake he just wanted it to be done and over with forever. Andrew once again found himself in the same place Ashley put him in all those years ago, but this time he knows he isn't as vulnerable as he was and uses it to his advantage, but after their little squabble, they leave together to bless our hearts with Chapter 2.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps this was as plain as the story made it out to be. There is a good chance that Andrew didn't want to leave a witness and said hell with it and butchered the woman in Room 302. But I'd like to believe that with all the hidden details Nemlei has scattered throughout this game that there is truth to one of these theories, hell maybe even a giant jumble of them all together is the true story of Room 302.

But with everything I presented today I hope you all perhaps are too questioning what really happened in Room 302 like I was.

I'd love to hear any theories you guys have regarding this or twists/opinions on the ones I presented here!

Thank you all for reading!

#andrew graves #ashley graves #gravecest #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew x ashley #ashley x andrew #leyley graves #tcoal #andy and leyley

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marvel-ous-m · 5 months ago

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✨ The Planets and the Fates (and All the Stars) Aligned ✨

WC: 4264 | Rating: T | Tags: Platonic Stobin, Famous!Eddie Munson/Guidance Counselor!Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute, Platonic HellCheer, Buckingham Mentioned | AO3 Link

Happiest of birthdays to the one and only @hairstevington !! You are such an inspiration and I'm truly honored to call you a friend. I hope that today is all you want it to be and more. Getting to know you through STWG has been one of the highlights of my year, and I will always have Sharkboy and Lavagirl to thank for that. <3 Taylor Lautner and his impact are frankly unmatched.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this very silly little platonic Stobin adventure, featuring Steddie and Buckingham Meet-Cutes

“Robin, do you seriously think that it’s a good idea to empty out our savings accounts so that we can fly across the country for a film screening?” Steve took a bite of his cereal and raised his eyebrows at her. They were seated on opposite sides of their thrifted dining room table, Steve eating cereal as a late-night dinner while Robin sat with him, splitting her time between scrolling TikTok on her phone and teaching herself how to cross stitch. It was her latest hyperfixation craft, and based on how long her craft kicks usually lasted, she’d be retiring this one in a week or so.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“I just got an advertisement for the Seattle International Film Festival, and the ad specifically showed me a clip of our movie, Steve!”

Steve hummed, taking another bite of his cereal. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange to call it ‘our movie’? We were extras, Rob, we were in it for a few seconds, if that.”

Robin let out a huff of annoyance, then turned her phone to face Steve. It was playing the TikTok she had described on loop, depicting a few split-second scenes from the various movies that would be shown at the festival. The scene that had been chosen from ‘their’ movie, Please Turn the Lights Off, was the ‘hotel lobby’ scene. Steve and Robin had portrayed rabid fans alongside a hundred other extras in that scene, screaming about the arrival of up-and-coming rockstar Robert “Bobby” Star to the hotel. They were, however, not visible in the split-second clip that Robin was now shoving in his face.

Apparently, Please Turn the Lights Off was a movie about overconsumption and parasocial relationships. Robin had found out as much a few months ago when the trailer dropped, and she’d gushed about how absolutely outstanding it looked. Steve wanted to see the movie, yeah, but he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea of dropping two paychecks to fly across the country to do that.

“It’ll be fun, Steve! It can be an adventure. How many other times are we going to get the opportunity to say that we attended a movie premiere for a film that we were in?” Robin pleaded with him, her eyes going wide and her lips forming a pout.

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Look, Birdie, I love you, you know that- but no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.”

“Steve, do you have the hotel information? I have to call the Uber, and for some reason I can’t find the details on my phone.” Robin grumbled out her question as she scrolled through her emails, oblivious to Steve’s struggling with their bags at baggage claim.

Why had he agreed to do this again?

“I forwarded you the email two weeks ago, Robs. We’re booked at the DoubleTree- the one here next to the airport, not the one downtown.”

Robin hummed, then let out a soft, “Aha!” when she found the booking. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve gave a half-hearted “You’re welcome” in response, dragging Robin’s luggage over to where she was standing.

“Okay, I booked the Uber, I think we need to go… upstairs? No, downstairs. Yeah, we need to go downstairs and across the street in the next two minutes.” Robin shot Steve a blinding smile, then began to walk in the direction of the rideshare pickup, leaving Steve to handle the bags.

The things he did for Robin Buckley.

Finding the Uber wasn’t too difficult when all was said and done. Thankfully, the driver had been willing to wait for an extra few minutes while Steve and Robin navigated the twists and turns of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The drive to their hotel ended up being pretty short, too.

Once they got checked in, dragged the luggage upstairs, and arrived at their room, Steve was ready to fall over. Robin, however, seemed like she was ready to do the exact opposite.

“We should go downtown! Grab some drinks, explore the city- I heard that you can actually go up in the space needle. Isn’t that, like crazy? Oh, and it rotates!”

Steve dropped their bags by the bed, let out an exhausted groan, then fell onto the bed face-first. His response to Robin was muffled by the pillow he had fallen onto. “I am not going anywhere until it’s time for us to leave for the screening event tomorrow. I’m so tired.”

Robin huffed and flopped onto the mattress next to him, poking his arm. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad! We just had to leave our apartment at, like, 4:30am? That’s only two hours earlier than you usually wake up, I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it.”

Steve sighed, rolling over onto his back. He gave Robin an unimpressed look. “If you’re still awake in an hour, even after I’ve turned off all the lights and put on Lo-fi, we can explore downtown.”

Robin grinned. “Deal.”

Low and behold, she fell asleep before Steve did.

Yeah, he kinda knew that would happen.

“I should have gone with the other outfit, right? This top doesn’t go with the pants. Do you think the top goes with the pants? Steve, I can’t go to our cinematic debut in an outfit that clashes.” Robin groaned, tugging at the sleeve of her button-up shirt as they walked into the venue.

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shot Robin a reassuring smile. “You look great, Robs. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous, the outfit doesn’t clash at all.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?” Robin frowned down at her clothes- a green button up shirt tucked into black slacks with a gray suit vest over top of it. “It’s not, like… too dull?”

“Nah, it’s nice! You look great. It’s a good shade of green, it really compliments your eyes.” Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket as he spoke. They were approaching the ticket reader, and he wanted to have it ready for the scanner.

Robin brushed her hands down her shirt to try and flatten out a few wrinkles, then let out a resigned sigh. “Alright. Thanks, dingus. For what it’s worth, your outfit is perfect.”

The person staffing the ticket counter scanned the two digital tickets on Steve’s phone, then waved them through. Steve kept his phone out as he navigated to their seats in the theater. “Really? I sorta felt like the pink shirt was a bold choice, but I had to pay homage to the pink streak in my hair from when we were filming this. Plus, y’know, pink and black- classic color combo.”

“May the pink streak of hair and the bet that she represents always live on in infamy.” Robin replied, dramatically lamenting the loss of the pink and the return of his natural hair color.

“I’m still in shock that somehow you knew Tommy Hagan had a crush on me in highschool before I did.” Steve pocketed his phone as they reached their seats, ushering Robin into the already almost-full row they had arrived at. He took the seat on the aisle and glanced around the theater for a moment, eyes widening when he realized how many people were present.

“Yeah, well, I’m still shocked that you never realized how many people were head over heels for you back then. Still, I’m glad it only took three shots for Tommy to make a move, I did not want to see Tommy Hagan more drunk than that, and I really didn’t want to take over laundry duty for a month. Laundry duty sucks.”

Steve gave a distracted hum. “I find it calming.”

“I don’t know how. First you have to sort dirty clothes, which, like, ew. Then you have to use different soaps, and god forbid you mess up the point at which you put the soap in, then you have to wait around…” Steve allowed Robin’s rambling to serve as background noise as he continued to look around the room. Did all of these people work on the film? A few people in the back of the theater looked really excited, which was sort of weird. It’s not like anyone important would be showing up to this thing, right?

The lights in the theater dimmed, and Robin quieted next to him, then slapped a hand against his arm. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s starting!” She hissed out her excitement in a whisper, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

His expression turned into an open-mouthed gape when the director walked onto the stage in front of the movie screen, joined by the leads in the movie- Eddie Munson and Tammy Thompson.

“What the fuck?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m really surprised that Tammy Thompson’s manager put her in all Gucci for this event, it’s not really her style. Still, you have to admit, it’s a look.” Robin muttered next to him. Steve honestly had no clue what she was even talking about.

Instead, his eyes were glued on Eddie Munson. “You didn’t tell me that the people were gonna be here.” Steve whispered absently, his eyes raking over Eddie’s outfit. Whoever his manager was knew how to style him, that’s for sure. His hair was all curls, styled perfectly to frame his face, and he was dressed in a floral-print black suit. He was wearing a maroon button-up underneath all the black, and the whole look made Steve… well, it made him feel some things.

“People? What people? Oh, shit, do you mean the actors? Steve, Stevie, light of my life, that is common sense, I fear. It’s a movie premiere, the cast is gonna show up. Didn’t you see all the goth-y teens waiting outside? They’re all here to meet Eddie at the meet and greet after.” Robin put her hand on Steve’s knee as she spoke, and Steve swallowed down the sudden bout of anxiety churning in his stomach.

The cast was here. Eddie fucking Munson was here. There was a meet and greet that was going to be happening. This whole movie premiere thing was actually a big deal, and the movie was starting, and Steve was about to see how much he actually made it into said movie. He was about to see his name on the credits at the end of the film and- holy shit, wow. Okay, he could see why Robin actually wanted to attend this thing now.

“..and, well, that’s why I felt motivated to make this movie. Eddie, Tammy, and the rest of the cast and crew really brought life to this story. I hope that you enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed creating it! Without further ado, here is Please Turn the Lights Off.” The Director finished his welcome then stepped off the stage with Eddie and Tammy, and Steve’s attention shifted from Eddie Munson to the screen that flickered to life.

The movie was good.

Like, really good.

Like, made-Steve-cry-at-the-end, good. That’s a hard thing to accomplish. He didn’t even cry when he watched Coco. It was a close thing, yeah, but still, his point stands. He’s not quick to get emotional at movies.

“Wow. That was wild, that scene at the end with Bobby and his manager really killed me.” Robin began speaking the second the lights came up, loud enough that Steve could still hear her over the thundering applause from the rest of the audience. “I think I spotted us in three different scenes, Steve! How cool is that? They even got our faces at one point, isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s really cool, Robs.” In truth, Steve had mostly forgotten to look for himself in the scenes with extras as he watched the movie. He did spot his face in the one instance where it had been shown, but the other two scenes that he and Robin apparently made it into, the two that she just mentioned? Steve had no idea what she was talking about.

The director got back on stage to say a few words, then encouraged people to line up near the stage if they wanted to do a meet and greet with the cast members. Fans crowded to the front of the room in seconds, while others slowly made their way out of the theater. Steve and Robin stayed in their seats.

“We should line up to do the meet and greet, yeah?” Robin nudged Steve’s arm, a teasing smile on her face. “I can meet Tammy, you can meet Eddie.” Her smile grew wider, and Steve groaned.

“Robin, he’s nice to look at, yeah, but he’s also one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in Hollywood right now. I’ll feel like… I don’t know, like a lovesick fangirl going up to him and saying hi.”

Robin shrugged at that, standing and pulling Steve up with her. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not really a bad thing, y’know? That’s why they’re here, they’re expecting that. Just, I don’t know, tell him that the scene of him having a breakdown in the bathroom made you cry, I’m sure he’ll be honored.”

Steve allowed Robin to pull him along, but gave her a deadpan, “I’m not telling him that,” followed by a glare when she glanced back at him.

“Well, you should tell him something. Looks like we’ll have a lot of time to figure out what that something is, seeing as we’re last in the line of at least a hundred people right now.”

Steve grimaced at the length of the meet and greet line. It was long, yeah, and it looked like it ended with them, seeing as the theater was otherwise empty aside from those already in line ahead of them, hoping to meet the stars of the movie.

It took almost an hour to finally reach the cast. They were lined up along the side of the stage, and each took a few seconds to sign a poster of the film that was included in the price of the ticket while chatting with the fans. Eddie was at the end of the line, next to Tammy.

Given that Steve and Robin were the final audience members in the line, the cast began to disperse as soon as they were done signing their posters and chatting with them. By the time they reached Eddie and Tammy, the rest of the cast had left in the theater, and the theater employees had started to clean up the venue for the next showing that evening.

Robin went straight to Tammy and immediately started gushing about her outfit. Tammy signed the poster and met Robin’s excitement with a pasted-on smile. Steve grimaced at Tammy’s rather obvious insincerity and made his way to Eddie, handing over the poster with silent anxiety.

“Hey!” Eddie greeted him with a smile and looked down to sign the poster, then did a double take, eyes going wide when he saw Steve’s face. “Wait- do I know you?”

“What?” Steve squeaked, eyes going wide. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No! I mean, not really? I mean, probably not, I just- uh. I was in the movie, for, like, a second. I was an extra. You could see my face in the crowd in the scene where you were playing the outdoor show, and I guess I was in other scenes too, but… uh, I don’t know which ones. I got kind of distracted and forgot to look for myself in the movie.”

“Huh.” Eddie squinted at Steve for a moment, then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh yeah! You’re pink hair dude!”

Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth dropped open in shock. “You remember that?”

“Yeah man, of course. You’ve got a hard face to forget.” Eddie winked, and Steve felt his cheeks flush.

“Oh, uh- thanks? I guess?”

“What happened to the pink streak, anyway?” Eddie frowned as he looked at Steve’s hair, presumably searching for the now-absent color.

“My friend Robin and I made a bet, and she had me get it after I lost. I had to dye it back to brown because I started a new job and-” Steve glanced Robin’s way, and was surprised to see her chatting with someone who was decidedly not Tammy. No, now she was talking to a blonde woman in stilettos and a power suit, who seemed charmed by Robin’s rambling.

“-uh, and, anyways, sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, talk your ear off or anything-” Steve was suddenly very aware that Eddie was the only cast member left in the theater, and that he was probably only here because Steve wouldn’t stop talking.

“No need to apologize! I’m having a good time chatting with you- trust me, I wouldn’t stick around if I wasn’t.” Eddie smirked. “So, you had to dye it back for work? What do you do?”

Steve’s anxiety calmed at Eddie’s reassurance, and was practically gone by the time Eddie was asking about his job. “Oh, I’m a guidance counselor at a middle school back in New York. It’s really rewarding to get to help so many kids. Middle school is a tough time, y’know? I just like getting to be there for them, being an adult that they can talk to about all the complicated stuff in their lives.”

Eddie’s eyes grew wide. “New York? You’re from New York? Did you fly all the way out here for this?”

“Uh, yeah? It was my friend Robin’s idea. She’s over there.” Steve pointed to where Robin was standing with the mystery blonde woman, and Eddie’s lips quirked into a knowing smile.

“Huh. Looks like your friend found my friend. That’s my manager, Chris.” Eddie chuckled under his breath. “Knowing her, they’ll probably be talking for a while- which is great, because that means we can chat a little longer. So, let me get this straight. You flew all the way across the country for a movie screening, for a film that you were an extra in, just… for what? The heck of it?”

Steve crossed his arms, growing a bit defensive at Eddie’s tone. “Yeah? I mean, Robin and I, we pick up odd jobs. She’s an art teacher at my school and we really don’t have much to do during the summer months. She’s the one who got us the extra gig when the movie was filming last summer. About a month ago she saw the advertisement for this and was like, ‘when else are we going to get to a movie premiere for a movie we were in’, and I was pretty against it, but eventually she pushed me into it and- look, I know it’s stupid, but-”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Eddie cut Steve off. “I think it’s really nice, actually. It’s cute.”

“Oh.” Steve swallowed down the rest of his words and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, like, I did something similar for the first movie I was in. I think I had… one line, maybe two? I got so excited that I took a road trip to see the premiere down in Austin. I slept in my van and showed up probably reeking of weed, but it was a special moment for me. Granted, I planned on getting into showbiz for most of my life. Even though that doesn’t exactly seem like that’s your end goal, something like this can still be pretty special.”

Steve ducked his head to hide the blush that was slowly making its way up to the top of his ears. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Eddie nudged his elbow against Steve’s, then gave him a delighted smile when their eyes met. “So, New York? What area are you in?”

“Hm? Oh, we’re in Albany, but given how much Robin loves traveling to the city, we should really just move out there.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he thought of the countless weekend trips to the city that they had taken.

“Ah, yeah- the city’s fun. I’ve got a place in Greenwich, actually. It’s not home, that’ll always be in Tennessee with my Uncle Wayne, but I’d say it’s the next closest thing.” He brought a hand up to his hair and began to fiddle nervously with one of the strands. “So, is it just you and Robin, then? No other roommates or, um… partners?”

Steve shook his head, oblivious to the intent behind Eddie’s question. “Nope, just us! Robs and I moved out to New York a few years ago, and we’ve seen a few people here and there, but nothing permanent- and, honestly, nothing for a while. Robin would rather go to shows in the city than sit through awkward first dates back home, and I can’t exactly blame her, y’know? First dates suck.” Steve registered the words he said after he said them, and felt himself go red in embarrassment. He really needed to get over his whole ‘oversharing-when-nervous’ thing.

Eddie smirked, amused, and opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, he was interrupted by Chrissy, who made her way over to them with Robin trailing behind her. “Hey guys, not to break this up, but Eds- we’ve really gotta get going. Your flight to LA leaves in two hours.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, then gave Steve an apologetic look. “Shit, yeah, we really need to head out.” He looked down at the poster, still gripped in his other hand, and huffed out a laugh. “Damn, all that talking and I never signed this for you! Here, let me jussst-” Eddie manifested a sharpie from his pocket and scrawled his signature onto the glossy print.

Eddie handed the poster back, his smirk having turned slightly nervous. Steve’s fingers brushed against Eddie’s when he took the poster back, and Steve bit his lip to hide the smitten smile that he knew was starting to creep onto his face.

“I’ll, uh, catch you later.” Eddie muttered with a blush, then stepped away to join Chrissy, who led him toward the back entrance to the theater.

Steve glanced down at the movie poster in his hand as Eddie and Chrissy walked away. His eyes grew wide when he saw what Eddie had scrawled there.

Eddie Munson

Let’s meet up in NY, pretty boy. I’ll make sure the first date doesn’t suck ;)

315-555-2595

Holy shit.

Eddie Munson just gave Steve his personal cell phone number.

Eddie Munson just called him pretty.

Eddie Munson just asked him on a date.

“Oh my god, Steve. Chrissy is, like, the best. She gave me her number! I’m sort of freaking out, I don’t know if I’ll ever meet anyone as beautiful as her ever again.” Robin sidled up next to him, her eyes still glued to the retreating celebrity and his manager.

Steve rolled up the poster and tucked it under his arm for safekeeping. At the same time, he decided to let his shock over getting asked out by Eddie take a backseat. He could tell Robin later, and she could help him figure out what to do next. For now, he’d much rather hear about Robin’s interaction with Eddie’s manager. “Let’s go grab a bite, Robs. You can tell me all about Chris while we’re out.”

Robin grinned and wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist. “Okay! Hey- do you still hate me for making you come all the way out here for the movie screening?” The question was clearly made in jest, and Steve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him in response.

“Hate you? Nah, I don’t hate you. Maybe ‘despise’ is a better word choice?”

“Steven Marie Harrington, take that back!”

“Loathe? Detest?”

“I’m never speaking to you again.” Robin could barely speak through her laughter as she pushed Steve away.

“Nooo, whatever will I do?” Steve deadpanned his response, and earned himself another shove from Robin.

Steve let out an exaggerated oomph, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting his tone shift into something far more sincere. “Thanks for convincing me to come out here, Robs. It was worth the trip.”

“Yeah? Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” They exited the front entrance of the theater and crossed the street. As far as Steve knew, they didn’t have a destination in mind, but he figured a restaurant would pop up sooner or later. “Anyways, since you’re so grateful, I fully expect to be the officiant at your wedding with Eddie.”

Steve choked on the air he was breathing and doubled over with laughter, which sent Robin into a fit of giggles. She hadn’t even seen what Eddie wrote on his poster, but she always knew what was going on in his head, didn’t she?

“As if, Robin. Even if, in some strange turn of events, I did for some reason marry Eddie Munson, you wouldn’t officiate. Knowing you, you’d be in tears the whole time, and I’d much rather you be my maid of honor in that case so you don’t have to try and talk through your crying. My mind is made, and no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.”

Three years later, Robin Buckley served as officiant of Steve and Eddie’s wedding- and yeah, she used a lot of tissues, but Steve couldn’t think of anyone better to perform the ceremony than his best friend, the person who helped him meet Eddie in the first place.

Besides, as far as Steve was concerned, Robin Buckley would always get her way.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #steddie fic #gift fic #platonic stobin #stobin #steve and robin #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #platonic hellcheer

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aurorawritestoescape · 11 months ago

Text

WATCHING YOU

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary/prompt: reader stalks Dave and he’s super turned on by it.

Tw: 18+, mdni, smut, voyeurism, so much of it, m/f masturbation, infidelity, unsafe piv(wrap it up obv), creampie, f/oral, light pussy slapping, fingering, swearing.

Word count: 4,2k

A/n: Happy holidays, @bonezone44 !🎄❤️ It’s an honor to write for you and I hope you’ll like my present! Love you, friend! Merry Christmas!🫂💖

Drabble || MASTERLIST

It’s another day. You’re in your work car, fast food trash lying on the seat next to you. You’re waiting for him, your current target, David York.

You’ve been surveilling him for some time now. Why? You don’t know. For your boss you’re just a pair of eyes so you follow, watch, take notes and monitor who he meets and who visits him and sometimes you take pictures of him, the hottest man you’ve ever seen.

David York, Dave as you call him... or not exactly. In your head you’ve been calling him Daddy all this time. Daddy was a family man. A loving, driving to and picking up from school, helping with homework, building tree houses, perfect dad. He was attentive to his wife, kissing her goodbye in the morning, making her breakfast in bed from time to time, fucking her missionary style once a week in their bed. See? You’ve been a great pair of eyes! You would gather everything you could and send it to your boss. All the information, every minor thing.

Except.. you might have omitted some details. Like sometimes when he sees his wife to her car in the morning his gaze slides along the street and pauses for a moment at whatever car you’re in that day. He kisses her glancing in your direction.

It might be a coincidence, you think. You just got too close, grew a little infatuated with your target and his warm eyes, kind smile and hot body. Maybe subconsciously you want him to see you. Clearly that would ruin the whole mission so you continue watching him and taking notes.

There is another reason you feel your heart and pussy flutter when you set your eyes on him. Every Tuesday and Thursday when his wife takes their daughters to their dance class he sits down in an armchair in the living room, a laptop in front of him on the coffee table and gets himself off. Watching in your car outside his house you have a great view of the whole process. He discards his belt, unzips his usual slacks and takes out his perfect cock. It’s big and thick, a little curved to the side, veiny but not too much. Perfect!

The first time it happened you reached for your binoculars so fast you spilled your coffee all over the car mat and then nearly choked on your spit at the sight of his length. He began stroking it slowly at first watching whatever was happening on the screen of his laptop while your heart was pounding in your chest and your pussy tingled making you squirm in your seat. With his hand sliding up and down his cock at a growing pace, he closed his eyes, turned his head towards the window, towards you, and bit his lower lip. You couldn’t help but whimper witnessing the sign of pleasure on his handsome face through the lenses. That moment you wished for nothing more than to be between his strong thighs, give him that ecstasy with your own hot mouth.

It happens regularly now. He chokes and milks his cock every Tuesday and Thursday and you watch him and ruin your panties. You don’t dare to do anything else right then and there but as soon as you come home on those days you plop on your bed, shove your hand into your panties and make yourself come sliding your fingers in and out of your tortured pussy. You don’t need your toys, just the image of his hand jerking his cock is enough to make every nerve in your body scream with ecstasy. You know every vein of his member, know the way he loves to start pleasuring himself and know his expression when he comes. It’s in your mind constantly.

You’re in your car waiting for Daddy to return with his daughters after picking them up from school. He’s late. He’s never late. You know his habits, his punctuality so you get nervous. Is he ok? Are the girls?

You’re deep in your thoughts staring at the road waiting for his car to show up and bring your nerves some relief.

TAP TAP

You jump in your seat, as your hand darts to your hip but you stop yourself remembering you’re in a suburban area with lots of civilians around and not armed.

When you turn your head your heart plummets to your stomach and you freeze, eyes wide. Him, Dave, Daddy is standing outside, with a hand on his hip apparently waiting for you to roll down the window. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with no tie and dark blue slacks with his ever present prominent bulge.

You try to compose yourself ready to lie through your teeth, and after taking a deep calming breath, you push the button opening a crack in the window.

He bends over and you see his face, his plush lips, a pronounced nose and warm eyes.

You must be worried, scared, shocked but your contradictory heart is fluttering at the realization that he finally sees you.

“Hello!” he says with a polite smile as his gaze quickly scans the inside of your car. You feel embarrassed scolding yourself for not cleaning up earlier and then another fear sneaks into your mind- have I left anything in the open showing that I’m surveilling him?

“Can we talk?” you hear his deep, velvet-like voice and stare up at him trying to control your breathing and your rushing thoughts.

“I’m sorry I’ve been waiting for my friend. I’ll leave. I don’t think she’s comin….”

He interrupts you, raising his hand in the air.

“Please,..” And then he calls you by your name.

Fuck!

You curse inwardly and begin thinking of your way out. You’re trying to read his expression and immediately drown in his eyes.

Fuck! I need to focus.

He knows. He’s known for some time. You’d be happy to say you’re surprised but in reality you aren’t. Your heart starts beating even faster. Is he dangerous? Of course he is. Why else would they need you to watch him?

“We need to talk,” he tells you, “can we go inside?”

You should say no, make up an excuse or just hit the gas and drive away but he’s here and the way he’s looking at you with his sad puppy eyes pushes you to stay. You can protect yourself if necessary, you think. So you make a decision.

“Yeah.. we can talk”. You open the car door, get out and follow him to his house.

He’s sitting across from you at the dinner table, staring intently at your face, his brows furrowed. He shifts his jaw as if in deep thought. The memory of him fucking his fist flashes in your mind and you quickly avert your eyes. You focus on the table in front of you, crayons and children’s drawings scattered across the surface. You clear your throat and return your gaze to him.

“So.. how long have you known?” you ask, making your voice sound more confident that you really feel.

“How long have you been stalking me?”

“Oh great! I’m that bad,” you chuckle nervously.

“Or I’m just that good,” he retorts with a smile.

“I’m sure you’re,” you breathe out and he raises his brow hearing an almost whimper in your tone. You feel your cheeks burning and you scold yourself mentally for showing your emotions. You want to fill the awkward silence and blurt out, “I'm definitely going to be fired now.”

It’s his turn to surprise you when he leans forward getting closer to you placing his forearm on the table and says looking right into your eyes.

“You don’t have to report this conversation. It can be our secret.”

You laugh bitterly expecting it to be a joke. Yet when you glance back at him you find his expression serious and intense. Why is he looking at you like this, why are you in his house? Your pulse quickens as his gaze slides down from your eyes to your lips and then your cleavage peeking out of your black shirt’s neckline.

“You can tell your boss that you failed or you can keep quiet and continue your mission,” he says, his voice calm and alluring.

“My mission…You mean - secretly surveilling you while you know all about it?” you ask as sarcasm coats your words.

“You’ve been doing it all this time so… you may as well continue,” he smirks. You feel offended by his remark and your instinct makes you to bite back with a question,

“Do you think I like watching you jerk your cock twice a week?”

The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and his expression changes.

“ I know you do,” a lopsided smile appears on his face as if he’s been waiting for these words all along. Your breath catches when suddenly he scoots closer to you moving his chair and you feel his knees touch yours. You look down at his thighs and his hand flies and brushes a hair strand away from your face. You grab his wrist and hold it as adrenaline is coursing through your veins. The faint smell of his cologne, oaky and deep, his face, his body, so close overwhelm you, and you feel yourself gush.

Your body wants him. You want him.

Still holding his wrist you bring his hand to your face and press your cheek to his warm palm. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re about to apologize for your inappropriate behavior and storm off when he cups your cheek and mumbles, “Oh, baby..”

You’re looking at each other for a few moments which feel like an eternity before he shifts his hand a little, swipes your lower lip with his thumb and murmurs, “Nosy kitten.”

You stop breathing completely, afraid to ruin the moment or make a wrong move. He pushes his thumb between your waiting lips and you readily open them for him. You take it in your mouth and begin sucking on it. It’s thick and heavy on your tongue. You moan and shut your eyes imagining something thicker and longer of his in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the pad of his finger and hear his chair creak.

When you open your eyes Dave’s moved even closer to you, so close that your knees are between his thighs and you tingle all over seeing his broad shoulders, strong arms, all of him right in front of you.

“Mmm, my kitten is naughty,” he coos at you leaning to your face until he places his nose into the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

“You smell as good as you look, baby,” he whispers and you feel him kissing your delicate skin there while you’re still sucking on his digit.

Then his hand grabs your thigh and even through the jeans you sense how big and warm it is. He slides it up and you stop sucking focused on the hand itching closer to the place where you need him desperately. His lips leave your neck, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and looks you in the eye again, his gaze soft yet intent.

“Can I…?” He asks and your breath hitches for a moment. You nod.

“Let me hear it, kitten. You have a very pretty voice,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

His touch gives you some courage and you reply with a tint of plea in your voice, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles and asks you softly,

“Could you stand up for me?”

You get up and he takes your hands and tugs you closer to him. You're between his legs now looking down at him. Even sitting down he feels bigger and stronger, more dominant than you. His hand moves to your belly and you bite your lower lip with anticipation. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your jeans and glances up at you. With his eyes not leaving yours he hooks his fingers under your waistband and slowly pulls your jeans and panties down. You whimper feeling cold air on your wet pussy. He bends down, sliding the clothes off your body and helping you to take them off completely while you’re grasping his strong shoulders for stability.

He sits up again and takes you all in, naked from the waist down, still wearing your shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his gaze stops at your pussy and you gasp when he leans down and plants an open mouth kiss on your mound.

Dave caresses it with his lips and bends down a little more running his tongue along your wet slit. He pushes it in between your folds and swirls it around your clit. Your hand darts to his head to grip a fist of his hair and you part your feet to make room for his tongue between your legs.

He parts from your pussy, a string of his spit and your slick still connecting you two, and you whine with desperation.

“Fuck, baby, your taste amazing,” his hand darts to your folds, massaging them and then giving your clit a rub. With his middle finger he takes a scoop of your juices gliding it from your entrance to your clit. He brings it to his mouth and licks it clean, not tearing his eyes off your parted lips and hazy gaze.

“Wanna show you something,” he says getting up and you furrow your brows with confusion and a pinch of fear. He might be dangerous. Having noticed your hesitancy Dave takes your hand in his and squeezes it a little. If he wanted to harm you he’d have done it already, you think.

When your mind clears a bit it dawns on you and your ask with excitement, “is it those movies you watch twice a week?” He nods with a smile, gets up, takes your hand and leads you to the living room.

“I thought they were different every time,” you mumble as you see the familiar armchair and the coffee table with the laptop.

“I have a few favorites, kitten,” he tells you with a smirk taking his usual seat. He spreads his thighs and you glance at the tent in his slacks. Then you turn your head right and look out of the window. That’s where you’d be, watching and squirming in your car seat. You shift on your feet feeling a new surge of arousal between your legs. At this point you must be dripping on his carpet. Dave pats his thigh with his hand and half asks half commands,

“Take a seat.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing out of the window at his car drive, your mind suddenly flooded with images of his wife driving up the road. He takes you out of your thoughts,

“They won’t be here for some time. Don’t worry. Take your shirt off,” he adds and you do as you’re told undoing a few top buttons and then impatiently taking it off over your head.

His dark eyes slide from your face and down to your breasts, your belly and then to your pussy glistening with your slick and his spit. He growls at the sight and adjusts himself palming his growing bulge,

“Hop on, kitten. I know you’ve been itching to see what’s in here,” he taunts you pointing at the laptop.

You can’t wait any longer as well, so you turn your back to him and sit down on his clothed lap. His cock is stiff and big under the back of your thigh and you feel it twitch. Then he flexes his thigh muscles and your pussy cries at the pressure. You hold back a moan and try to focus on the black screen in front of you.

“Lean back,” his hands on your waist pull you to his chest and you rest your back on him as his hands are holding you close. You’re completely exposed and vulnerable, pussy and breasts completely on display for him and you love the feeling of being so naked while he’s fully clothed.

His breath is warm on your neck and then his fingers push on your cheek turning your face to him. His parted lips, hungry eyes are right in front of you, your chest is heaving and the heart is pounding.

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and soft at first but gradually desire overtakes your both and you seem to want to devour each other, your tongues tangling as you’re licking into each other’s mouths with impatience.

You melt into his body so strong and broad around you getting drunk on the kiss when his free hand cups your pussy and he begins massaging your folds and clit with his thick fingers, your moans muffled by his mouth.

He drinks your sweet sounds and when he parts from your lips and you both look down at the place where he’s making you a complete mess with his hand.

“Oh, fuck, kitten… look how wet you’re.”

His clothed thigh is glistening with your slick but none of you care, captivated by the sight of his skilful fingers sliding between your folds and rubbing your bud just perfectly.

Your climax is so close you legs are already shaking and you plead, voice quiet and desperate, “Fuck me, daddy.”

He chuckles but his tone lacks humor, “you’ve seen my cock, kitten.. don’t wanna hurt you. Need to get you ready first.”

You whine having dreamed of him inside you for so long, but he slaps your pussy gently and you gasp almost coming from the soft stroke.

“No whining on daddy’s lap,” you hear and your breath hitches when he calls himself that.

His two fingers move down from your clit to your entrance and he easily pushes them in. He starts pumping them in and out of your crying hole, curving them and massaging your g-spot. He adds a third and it’s a stretch but you take it well spreading your legs wider.

His stiff member is pulsing under your thigh and you feel your pussy contracting when you imagine his cock inside of you right now.

“Gonna come..,” you mumble and immediately start shaking in his arms as your walls squeeze his digits.

“Oh yeah.., good girl!” he praises as his fingers are thrusting into you fast and rough, the heel of his palm hitting your clit. Your orgasm flashes white behind your eyelids and you soak Dave’s slacks squirting all over his thighs and knees.

“Yeah… messy kitten,” he says almost triumphantly, panting in your ear, “Should daddy make you lick it all off?”

You whimper, completely spent and his hand slows down.

When your climax subsides and all your muscles relax you’re resting against his broad chest, trying to catch your breath, your eyes closed.

He gives you a minute but then you feel his hand under your thigh as he unbuckles his belt, takes it off and throws it on the floor. You hear a zipper open, and he plants a kiss on your shoulder asking for your attention,

“Come on, kitten, time to sit on daddy’s cock.”

You’ve just come but his words immediately reignite the burning in your core.

You get up clumsily, your legs weak from the hard orgasm, and look back to see him pull down his slacks and boxers. His cock springs out of its confines and you widen your eyes. It looks quite intimidating up close and you worry if you can take him, even after his fingers stretched you.

Seeing your worried expression, Dave smirks as his hand holds his hard cock at the base,

“Don’t be so scared, baby. You two can finally meet in person.” He spreads precum over the head with his thumb. You stare at his girthy shaft and angry red tip, shamelessly licking your lips and he notices, “I’d love that. But daddy really wants to stick it in your pussy now .” Dave takes your hips in his big hands and pulls you down closer to his lap.

Your ass is hovering over him as you’re holding onto the sides of the armchair until his tip nudges your wet hole. You begin sinking down and it aches pleasantly. He’s groaning behind you while you’re slowly taking every inch of him. His hands on your waist are helping you hold your weight, not rushing, giving your pussy time to adjust and accommodate his girthy cock.

Finally your folds and ass are flush against him and you take a deep breath sitting fully on his member.

“Are you ok, kitten?” he asks, his chest heaving deeply against your back.

Your ‘yes’ sounds more like a mewl and you look in front of you at the laptop reflecting your naked breasts and his face, eyes focused on your ass.

He glances up and your eyes meet in the reflection of the screen. He twitches inside of your core and you both moan.

“You wanted to show me something,” you mumble beginning to move a little on his cock and he leans forward. You do too, your bodies flush against each other. You feel him stiff and powerful inside of you and whimper at every movement.

Dave finds a file in one of the folders and clicks the icon. He sits up, pulling you with him and making you lean on his broad chest. You both watch the black screen for a few moments until a video starts and you see a busy street. Dave begins moving his hips and you can’t pay the video much attention focused on his cock sliding in and out as he’s holding you in his arms, thrusting his length up into you.

“Watch it, baby. Made it myself. Bet you’ll love it,” he murmurs as your pussy is dripping around his cock on his balls.

Your fingers grasp the sides of the armchair when he speeds up his movements and starts fucking you hard and deep.

You look down to see him splitting you in half on his cock before he grabs a fist of your hair and tugs on it making you look forward.

“I said watch, kitten.”

You whimper when he gets rough and you stare at the screen feeling the second climax build.

It’s still a busy street and you’re trying to comprehend what exactly you’re watching when you recognise the place and then a person walking through the crowd with their back to the camera.

It’s you.

You, walking home from the local market a few weeks ago.

You sit up watching the screen closer but with his hands under your arms he lifts your hips and uses you like a fuck toy pleasuring himself with your pussy.

The video changes and it’s night time. You know this place. It’s a dark alley behind your favorite bar. You see yourself coming through the back door, a man following you. He pins you against the wall and you’re making out. You remember you two fucked that night, just a one night stand and all the time you’d been thinking about Dave.

“What the fuck?” you ask your shocked eyes glued to the screen.

“What is it, kitten? You've been stalking me, I’ve been stalking you. Think it’s fair,” he grumbles panting hard still manhandling you on his cock.

You’re speechless. The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass fill the room. Your climax is close and you mumble,

“You’ve been getting off on watching me. You’re sick.”

He chuckles as his hand slaps your pussy again and you moan,

“That’s cute. Calling me sick when you’re bouncing on your target’s cock.”

You can’t say he’s wrong and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Fuck off,” you retort, leaning back on him, then turn your head and kiss him. He growls against your lips, close to his own climax. When you part he holds you close and murmurs into your cheek,

“All that time… watching you, kitten…wanted to fuck you so much.” The head of his cock is hitting the spongy spot inside you as you whine and moan. He continues, “Nearly took you in your sleep once… Wanted to slip my cock inside you..my beautiful stalker.”

You come, the bliss opening your mouth in a silent scream, and choke his cock as he quickly follows shooting his cum deep inside your core. He moans your name, his cock pumping all of his seed inside you, to the last drop.

When you open your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, and look at the screen you see yourself sleeping in your bedroom. He’s watching you, lying on your back, with your nipple peeking out of your nighty. The camera shakes as he takes it in the other hand, probably adjusting himself. Then he goes to your mirror. You see his reflection, wearing a black hat and a dark hoodie. He opens his mouth and breathes out on the mirror creating a misty spot on the surface. Then Dave draws something with his gloved finger.

The camera gets close and you see three letters written there.

ICU

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!💖

After Watching You - drabble

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @nervousmumbling

#pedro pascal #dave york #pedro pascal characters #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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sukunas-wife · 10 months ago

Note

Why was the servant girl smiling`?

I forgot to elaborate I’m Sorry 😭

But here’s a snippet of

✨Y/n’s Shrine House History✨

🤫 Read closely

Sealed Series History

First of All the Shrine was opened to Honor Y/n as a dirty, she was worshipped for being able to bare Lord Sukuna’s heir. In the shrine she’d previously used a reverse cursed technique to heal pregnant women if they sustained any non visible damage to their reproductive organs and the fetus.

Yuji was actually able to grown in y/n’s womb because while the cursed child was forming in her womb when it would take a physical toll on her body she would use a reverse curse technique to improve/stabilize her position.

It’s a bit in the Sealed series how a man heard of her legend and went all the way to Sukuna’s Palace, to try and find any trace instead finding the prison realm cube washed and worn away from the palace but not by much, freeing her his only request was that she bless his pregnant wife because she hadn’t been able to bare child before, (story line: the lady was physically abused as a child leaving bruising and damaged on her uterus y/n heals it and the child who also had minor organ issues)

Anyways~

The Shrine was originally open for all husbands and wives to enter together freely. It was a place of peace where you could find hope, to prove there was light in the dark. In this Case how a child so small and sweet can be born from a Curse. When Yuji was born, you presented him to the public in a bed for all to come admire but not touch. Everyone brought gifs to honor the “Prince of Curses” admiring his soft sleeping face. It made it hard to believe even Ryomen Sukuna was once a child.

Hints, the reason everyone (eunuchs, servants) was asking if Yuji was with Y/n?

The cursed man had entered the shrine 3/4 months after Yuji had been born. After having seen Yuji presented to the public.

This cursed man was striving to be on Par with Sukuna and when he learned Ryomen Sukuna had been given a direct blood heir by a human woman (eventually) turned curse. He decided that same woman would give him his heir. Walking into the shrine freely greeted by eunuchs and servants as he made his way to the main room. There you sat in the middle of the platform reading over a booklet of finance your hand maid had left you with while she left briefly. Hearing the sanctuary doors close you looked up and there stood 6’4 terrifying, bulky man who was in the process of becoming a curse by corrupting, twisting and breaking his own soul.

He looked down at you and the room was filled with a dark aura. It was suffocating, the man immediately reaching out for heavy breathing frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, when he said “So you’re the woman who carried Ryomen Sukuna’s child, then you’ll do the same and honor me.”

Y/n rushed to get up and run, but what’s your height to 6’4? Not easy- luckily for you Uraume was entering the room after Sukuna sent him to get you. Froze the man in place and immediately called for Lord Sukun, Uraume tried to pull you away when in came enraged Sukuna, almost obliterating the man leaving him there laying close to death a half curse can be. There stood Sukuna bloodied standing over his body, heavy breathing and snarling, he very much tore the limbs off the man leaving him there screaming and squirming in fear. Before he could crush the man’s head in with his foot, Yuji started screaming from the next room. Both of you in panic something had happened to him or was happening you all left them man on the floor rushing to find your prince. He was fine, your handmaiden had just woken him and he lost it realizing neither of his parents were with him.

After this, Sukuna hunted this man down and couldn’t find him. He posted Sorcers/Eunuchs at your shrine and forbade any man from ever entering the doors, the only exception being Yuji.

7 Years Later

When the man had yet to return you eased up on the security a bit letting the sorcerers who stood outside on guard go. Keeping your servants/eunuchs who working inside mixed with sorcerers and non sorcerers.

One day a girl who 15ish came to work at your shrine, young Yuji didn’t trust her the few timeshe had seen her.

Why?

Because she’s a fraud and was working with Cursed man. How did he recruit a child?

He didn’t-

she was a curse user who specialized in transfigurations and became smitten with him. (She’s like 32)

Sadly he had no interest in her. He wanted Ryomen Sukuna’s wife to bare his first child. She sneaks in at “15” the years he plans his attack. Plays servant well enough to be seen as normal and she can slip him in using the private ways the servants use to get in and out unnoticed to the public eye.

Why was she smiling?

She was smiling because she was “Cursed Man’s Accomplice” and was fulfilling her role. Even if she was jealous of y/n being the woman to carry his heir. Her Lord was accomplishing his desires, maybe after she’d have entrance into his life affairs. (More specifically romantically)

Wrong- She wasn’t exactly the strongest or resistant so when she was caught off guard in Yuji’s unstable Domain Expansion and attack. In short she was killed. Sukuna took care of Cursed guy the way he should.

Don’t know what the sealed series is but found the lore?

Here’s a link to Part 1

Perm: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

Sealed: @needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @christinerose380 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @lunaizhere @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @3ve88

@t4naiis @blkmystery @the2ndl @too-pretty-to-live @v-sh @officialjellydoughnut @catmouseggy @f1uveryysblog @icantsleeplol809 @wsp1st @ivysenpai3 @babyqueen17 @lupita97lm @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @nxxrxm @avyannasstuff @nameless-mushroom-warrior @fullwriterpoem @nanamisbigassschlong @queen-luna-007 @alonelyvagabond @pupbistro @clxvrs @dangerous-girls-world @saiyara05 @isagivinny

#🤍mail time #sukunas wife #daddy sukuna #sukunas wife speaks #sukunas wife’s ask #sealed series #sealed away #Sealed Away Lore #son yuji mom reader #son yuji #dadkuna #SukuNation #sukuna ryomen #dad sukuna son Yuji #yuji x mom reader #yuji and mom reader #true form sukuna

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yooglefics · 1 month ago

Text

The casual type: 05 . The art of paying attention

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 3,354 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary: ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 05 ) • Sometime the little details mean more than people think. More info under read more.

Includes ( this chapter ): The squad<3. Subin my love. And other new characters. A kind of out of nowhere jump in time ( just a few weeks ) because the writing just flowed like that, I don't know what to tell you. A mini-drama ( this is the spoiler I posted on ko-fi the other week ) and a bigger drama. Author's note: so… I'm sorry this took so long to be updated Y_Y As you may know, inspiration hasn't been too good these days, but after some lovely comments and knowing people are interested in this story, I finally finished this chapter, so thank you! Also, let me know if you figured out what the drama was before the end, or if you had a theory about it, etc. Hopefully you like this one, and remember to leave a comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or what not, to help my motivation. Thank you for reading <3

“Kang Subin, queer and honorable member of the divorced parents club.” Is how your roommate introduces herself friday night, pointing to the latter as the reason she is only now, a month after classes started, arriving to campus and the city in general.

She says her dad insisted on doing a year abroad as he did, assisting to his Alma Mater and hopefully fall in love with the city to move full time with him. And she did love it… a little too much. She admits the change of scenery was liberating, she could be a totally different Subin from the one in Seoul, and sadly that meant neglecting her notes and putting at risk her art history degree.

You're glad to note she will be joining you ( and some of your friends on occasion ) for classes, since she managed to keep her notes high enough to not lose her first semester. And then you spend the weekend getting to know each other, practically becoming friends overnight. Subin says it must be a you thing, and shaking your head no, you confess essentially begging the administration for a roommate because you're stuck with silly boys and all girls hate you because you aren't cool like them. She laughs, asks if that means the plan is making everyone hate her too and be stuck with you. And you freak out a little, but her laugh keeps flowing across the dormroom and you know she is joking; you know that things would be fine.

Monday arrives and between classes, you continue to give Subin small tours of the campus, mostly the art building and where all the vending machines are.

“There's more than I thought, could you make me a map?” She jokingly asks.

“I'll ask Jungkook for the one we made last semester,” you know he has it because it was offered to Yoongi before.

“Hey, y/n!” calls Taehyung, appearing at the other end of the hall with Yoongi, and when he asks “you got some gum?”, you know they were just on a smoke break.

“Oh, hi, Tae. Nice to see you.” Sarcastic tone all over it, “are you having a nice morning?”

He rolls his eyes and Yoongi laughs at his side.

“Sorry, I'm actually not. And I'm running late,” still you give him a look and as a little kid he repends. “Hi, you guys look pretty today, as alway.” He adds before you can argue anything, and only then Subin chuckles, understanding this must be part of your dynamic. “Do you happen to have some gum for us, your lovely friends?”

“Yes, actually.” Taking one strap off, you move your backpack to your front, looking for the little package they keep stealing from. “Here,” you hand one wrapper to Tae, who starts running in the other direction immediately, screaming how much he loves you. And a “nice to meet you!” to Subin.

Everyone laughs, Yoongi turning back in your direction after Taehyung disappears down the hallway.

“You want one?” You ask and before being able to stop yourself, you add, “Is cherry, though”

“Of course it is,” he smiles and you look away, pretending it's only to search for another one to offer Subin. Memories of friday’s night invading your psyche and shyness your whole body.

Well, that's your own fault.

“Thank you,” she says, looking at the two of you while unwrapping it. “I'm Subin, by the way, the new roommate.”

“Oh, she actually found one!”

“Just hoping she doesn't abandon me too,” you pout and Subin wraps one arm around yours.

“Never.”

“Yoongi,” He introduces, thumb pointing to himself and then behind, “And that was Taehyung, but I guess you'd meet the whole squad later.”

“Ah, yeah. I've been told she collects cute guys.”

“Did someone actually say that?” Yoongi asks when you're not even surprised.

“Yeah and when I asked about girls she looked relieved,” subin goes on, “I actually wanted to know, you know.”

Yoongi and you laugh, “someone doesn't like competition,” both say in unison.

“I told you, they lied.”

“Well, I can't really say that yet. I've to look first,” Subin insists, walking through the cafeteria's door. And it doesn't bother you because it comes from a place of curiosity and not horniness. No shame to anyone, your friends are hot, but you've known them for so long and know they have other great attributes that sometimes it feels superficial and it bothers you.

Besides, as a friend, you need to keep their egos just high enough to be healthy for everyone involved.

“Listen, kids,” calling for the table's attention, you stand in front of them, “this is Subin, my—”

“New roommate?” Asks Jungkook, remembering the text you sent, and you nod excitedly.

“That's Jungkook, he is in music and sports.”

“Which ones?”

“All. Some. We don't have time for that,” you joke, but only continue with the rest of his introduction after the youngest clarifies is soccer and box this year. “Oh, he also takes an art class with Taehyung and I, and now you, this semester. You know Tae from earlier, the one who keeps stealing my gum.”

“You're the one that tells me to not show up to class with cigarette breath!” He pushes back against accusations.

“I think she wants you to buy your own,” Jimin suggests.

“Or quit,” adds Hobi and the table laughs even more.

“That’s Hobi, the group's mom.” Tae offers after.

“Does that make Mai the dad?” Jungkook asks, with a serious expression on his face.

“I'm telling her so,” Yoongi says, already phone in hand and texting his best friend.

“You'll have to meet Mai later, she is great,” you continue, “but Tae is in arts. And Hobi and Jimin, are both dancers,” index finger pointing at their direction as you say each name, “and well, you already know that's Yoongi, he is in music too.”

“And the last new guy, right?” Subin remembers from your talk earlier after she met him for the first time, “I guess I took your title.”

“Are we enemies now?” He jokes, “I was about to offer you my chair, but now I don't know.”

Again, laughs all around and before anyone can think about the sitting arrangement too seriously, Jungkook is standing up, saying he needs to go back to the house before his next class.

“Oh, you are the biker from friday!” Subin exclaims as Jungkook’s helmet comes into view, everyone turning to look at her, “can't believe I forgot to ask you.”

And then five pairs of eyes are on you, all but Yoongi's, since he doesn't need an explanation.

“...What?” Asks Tae, finally.

“Had to call her to my rescue because I lost my key and from the hallway's window I saw someone drop her off on a motorcycle,” she explains, “that's when the girl told me about you collecting cute guys.”

“But that wasn't me,” says Jungkook.

“Yeah, you weren't with us that night. We were all at the house, so who was it?” Ask Jimin, and the curiosity in his voice makes you nervous. You have never lied to them, and starting right now without preparation is terrifying.

However nothing compares to the feeling on your stomach when Yoongi answers, “it was me, actually.” And without a beat, your friends are looking at him now, “What?”

“You what now?” Mister interrogation Tae goes on, “Why were you together? What time was it? Was it late?”

“You were alone? Why?” Asks Hobi.

“We can't hang out now?” You ask back, wasn't he who set you up in the first place? And yes, it didn't turn out the way they planned it, but wasn't the whole premise to get to know Yoongi?

“Not what I meant,” he corrects, “Just… you didn't say anything.”

“Well, you guys canceled, what were we supposed to do? Not do anything just because you weren't with us?” Yoongi answers before you.

“And we just hang out, you know, eat junk food and chat. Nothing to write home about.”

“Aww,” coos Jungkook, sliding his arm over your shoulders, “does that mean you missed us? You really love us, uh?” you pull back, sticking your tongue at him and pushing him towards the exit, telling him to hurry because if he is late to class you aren't covering for him again.

Thankfully, that's enough to get them off your back and Subin’s arrival provides better entertainment through the lunch hour, as your friends don't hold back on their questions to get to know her. And you're glad they seem to like her as much as you do.

“So… should I've not mentioned the bike thing?” worries Subin later, when everyone has left and is only her and Yoongi at the table.

“Don't worry about it.” He reassures her, offering a tangerine slice when she doesn't return the smile. “Seriously.”

Is not her fault, he thinks. He can't blame the guys either for wondering and going into big brother mode as soon as they hear you're hanging out with someone, since the prevalence of that is not the best right now. And although he does feels bad about keeping things a secret from them, mostly Hoseok, who Yoongi himself give the “you better be careful with what you do with my best friend” talk, it consoles him a bit to know that the both of you are on the same page with what you have.

Maybe if they knew it wouldn't be a big deal, he thinks. Better him than anyone else, right?

Putting away your phone and with the excuse of going to the bathroom before class, Subin and Tae follow their journey to the second floor without you and without suspecting anything. As you walk in front of one of the classrooms, a hand wraps around your forearm and pulls you in.

“What th—!” scream is interrupted when you recognize Yoongi. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I could've punched you.” And with adrenaline still running through your body, you actually push his shoulder with less force than you first intended.

“Ouch.” He rubs the place you hit, dramatically, as he explains, “Sorry, I panicked. There were people around and I didn't want to scream your name”

“Yeah, we should be careful after what happened at the cafeteria. Good save, by the way.”

“You own me,” he quickly returns.

“I do not,” you deny, crossing your arms, “You were the one insisting on going into the parking lot, I told you to leave me at the gate.”

“Well, forgive me for being a gentleman.”

You laugh, “and modest.”

Yoongi smiles, relaxing his body against the wall beside the door, “are you telling Subin about us?” he asks before you can question him about why he asked to meet.

Uncrossing your arms, you fiddle with your nails instead, scratching the acrylic paint off of them. “What is your opinion on that?”

“You can't answer a question with a question, miss.”

“Well… I don't know.” Is your final answer after a few seconds of silence. “She is cool and I really think we’re going to be friends and maybe I can gossip to her about you.”

He chuckles at that.

“And also she said sorry and asked if it was supposed to be a secret.”

“Really?” Yoongi sounds surprised, “She asked me that too earlier and I told her to not worry.”

“I feel bad about it because it seems like she is actually worried she messed up,” you share, “maybe I should just come clean. Only to her, at least. But of course not, if you don't want to.”

“No, it's okay. I think is good you have someone to talk to. And she seems nice.”

You nod in agreement, relieved you don't have to start hiding things from Subin as soon as you two met.

“Also,” Yoongi goes on, holding your hips and bringing you closer to him. You allow him to without much thinking. “It was nothing to write home about?”

“What?”

“Friday night, you said that earlier.”

“Did your ego get hurt?” You tease.

“No. But I didn't know you were a liar.” he throws back and you laugh. “I'm going to call you Pinocchio now.”

At that, you gasp, “stop giving me nicknames!”

And your attempt to pull away is just that, an attempt, because between laughs he holds you closer. “But is funny. And all of them are true.”

“They aren't.”

“Are so.”

“I don't like you.”

“That's not what I got from friday.”

“Yoongiii—.” you gasp again, his laugh louder this time.

Wanting a clarification stops him from dumping his phone back into the duffle bag and so, throwing the strap over his shoulder, he makes his way over to Chris and other teammates.

“Are you ready to go?” His roommate asks, and Yoongi nods, “good, I'm just waiting for Ha-ri.”

“Hey!” As they turn around, it is not difficult to recognize her as one of the cheerleaders since she is carrying her pom-poms and all, but is only as they continue talking that Yoongi realizes who she is, “sorry, I was saying goodbye to the girls and planning for next practice.”

“Don't worry, babe.”

“You must be Yoongi, hi,” she waves her free hand enthusiastically enough the pendant on her bracelet makes a jiggly sound, catching his attention “welcome to the university. And the team. Go, Bears!”

She seems nice, Yoongi thinks, “Go, bears!” first in the air, he chuckles in response before they all make their way to the parking lot and to Chris’s car.

The drive home is short and filled with questions about his last school and the reason he transferred, which Yoongi manages to give simple and vague answers that satisfy Ha-ri’s curiosity. It definitely helps that he has been questioned about it more than once the last few weeks, giving him more than one chance to practice before today.

The more weeks pass, the less people ask. And soon the mystery of his arrival is pushed to the side as people decide to talk about his accomplishments in the basketball games.

Every now and then someone recognizes him as an ex Tiger's player, and asks why he changed teams, but before anything can get to deep, a “well, now you are on the right team,” or something alike is thrown his way and he couldn't be more glad for the rivalry between the universities.

For what is worth, the change has proven to have been a good decision. Of course he is nostalgic for the past and he misses hanging out with Mai more often, but he has friends, basketball and music. He has even been planning to perform at school events with Jungkook as he did with Jay back then.

It feels like he is starting to build a new life, and it wasn't as difficult as his brain told him it could be.

With chuseok around the corner the university starts to plan the events for the weekend and some professors feel generous enough to give extra credits for participation. Others just used it as an excuse to make the assignments related to it, that's his and Jungkook’s case.

Yours is the first one, because getting a good grade for hanging out with your friends sounds too good to pass out. That's why for the last few days you have been following them around taking pictures and notes, preparing your article about their performance Saturday night.

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks from his spot at the end of the bed when you take the headphones off, the ones he made you wear so he wouldn't have to listen to himself on the interview recording.

“Yep. I only need Kook's side and I'm done,” end of the sentence elongates a bit, arms in the air as you stretch your back.

“How long for him to be here? I need him to go over something before he eats and gets a food coma.”

“I'm glad you're already prepared for that,” you giggle, “Because he is not even seeing my texts.”

“He is still busy?”

“Yeah, kissing someone for sure. Does he think I don't have things to do too?”

“Like making out with someone too?” he jokes, putting his guitar down on the bed, deciding to take a break too.

“Why? Are you jealous?” you tease, trying not to laugh and is surprising when you're met with a serious expression as you spin around on his desk chair.

“I thought the rule was to tell if there were other people.”

“I'm just kidding,”

“Wow, a comedian.” he rolls his eyes, and you know he is only pretending to be annoyed.

So, you push. “I'm funnier than you, don't get mad.”

“Cocky.”

“What, you don't find confidence attractive?”

“Oh, I find a lot of things about you attractive.”

Touche; you think as a smirk appears proudly on his face and makes you turn around, shy reaction at the security of this voice.

And he laughs. Of course.

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

“If you want to kiss me, just do it,” he only has to stretch a bit to pull on the chair, making you turn to him again and bringing you close.

And you do kiss him.

Not only to erase his stupid and attractive gummy smile, but also because you've missed it.

With projects and exams, with Yoongi not only being in a different major but also in his third year, hanging out only the two of you hasn't happened as much.

You don't mind. You understand that is not a priority and there is something relaxing about it being an unspoken agreement, something that you truthly appreciate.

But you would be lying if you said that you didn't miss Yoongi's lips against yours and the way his hand cups your cheek, still gentle as he tries to lead the kiss.

Looking for closeness, your hand finds balance on his tight, making you contemplate ditching the comfiness of the desk chair for a sit on his lap.

“Is pizza night, baby!” breaks through the house before you can make another move, making you jump and pull away on instinct. Moving out of Yoongi's reach, even hitting the desk with the back of the chair as you stand up in record time.

“Careful,” he murmurs and you don't understand why he isn't freaking out. Even dears to chuckle.

“Min, come out!” another voice calls out.

“That's not Jungkook,” you say as a matter of fact, your brain still in shock.

“I'm starting to think he stood us up.” He stands up, looking at his phone still without texts from the younger guy, “Wanna meet my roommates? They have pizza, apparently.”

And your empty stomach makes the executive decision to hide your shame, and disappointment, in exchange for some food.

You're introduced to Jin first, who introduces Namjoon while taking the knife out of his hand with a “let hyung do it.”

“I swear he never lets me hold a knife for more than five seconds,” he says and you find it adorable, but Namjoon seems genuinely confused and maybe a bit hurt by it.

You wonder what more there's to that. But before you can ask anything, a third roommate comes out of the kitchen, “Is for your own good and the wellbeing of everyone involved,” he says, making your whole body tense as the familiar voice rings through your ears.

“That's Chris.” Jin says, and you almost answer that you know, but for a second it is even hard to breathe.

Nevertheless, you don't need to say anything, because your silence is everything Yoongi needed to confirm that an introduction isn't necessary and in fact, you'd probably rather forget about him.

Because is him.

The guy who hurt you.

A/N: I missed writing this! again thank you to anyone who has show interest one way or another, you're the reason this chapter was actually finished uwu♡. A/N 2: I'm working on the intros for the characters that aren't part of the squad, and sometimes I ask for your help with fc's suggestions or names, so... that's something to know if you're interested. Send a tip on ko-fi and get some rewards!!

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 1 year ago

Text

— The Archer | R. Targaryen *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Comfort

▹ Words: ~3.7k

▹ Summary: All of Rhaenyra's enemies started as friends and she's terrified you'll be next.

▹ Note: Your Honor, I'm gay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There'd been a shift in your relationship with Rhaenyra.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had happened or the exact reason for it. But something had changed. No longer did she freely show her affections in the privacy of her chambers, nor did she reach out to hold your hand in hers. Cold and distant, Rhaenyra didn't call on you as much as she previously had.

Paranoia had you in its claws; had you done something wrong? Did she find someone else to fall in love with? Perhaps someone she could be with so publicly, not a lowly handmaiden she could only ever have in the quiet of the night.

Your heart hammered with anxiety and suspense; tossing and turning, sleep had evaded you as you began to keep tally of how many times Rhaenyra called on your aid. The most in one day had been three, and she used to call on you double that amount just to be in your presence. Something was wrong; you just didn't know what.

She wouldn't even meet your gaze anymore.

It made you squirm when in her presence, where once you had been at complete ease. Doubt made your sunny skies turn gray as insecurities gnawed on you. Did she rekindle her friendship with Queen Alicent and leave you in the dust? Or was it Daemon Targaryen who captured her attention from you? Perhaps someone new to the court you hadn't even realized was a threat.

There was nothing to do; you were helpless, unable to act as the woman you loved drifted further away. Goodbye was screaming in the silence between the two of you.

Hands shaking and breathing unsteady, your footsteps echoed in the dark halls, its flickering candles casting monsters in the corner of your vision. Your fingers gripped the serving tray in your hand so tight that all circulation had been cut off as your knuckles turned white. The decanter of wine shook, and its sound called out just how terrified you were.

The princess had requested red wine as she prepared for bed, and you were terribly anxious this would be the night she'd officially end the relationship the two of you shared. But you didn't want that; you didn't want to face the harsh reality that everything was crumbling around you. You'd take awkward silence over definite endings.

All too soon, you reached her chambers, the doors looming over you in a mocking manner. Carefully, you raised a single fist to the door and knocked, the rap of your fist almost as loud as the beat of your heart. A lump was caught in your throat as you waited.

"Come in." The walls muffled Rhaenyra's voice, but you'd heard them well enough, always too aware of anything related to Rhaenyra. And maybe that was where you went wrong. Blinded by the princess, you took her words as an oath and not the petty dalliance she probably viewed it as.

Carefully, hands still shaking, you opened the door. The sweat on your palm nearly made it stick to the cool metal of the knob.

The room was dimly lit by half-melted candles and candelabras spread throughout the large chamber. The duvet on her large bed was pulled back, inviting her to sink into the plush mattress of cloud-like pillows. Rhaenyra sat in front of her vanity, hair loose and unbraided, dressed in a night dress and a silk robe. She turned her head as you entered, purple eyes carefully watching you with an unreadable expression.

She used to look at you with warmth and vibrant affection, every emotion she felt visible on her face. Now it was like looking at a statue, harsh and emotionless. The pit in your stomach burrowed deeper, and your heart got caught in your throat. Where did it all go wrong?

Your eyes darted from her, unable to stare any longer without bursting into tears. The walls were closing in on you as the ability to breathe was taken from you. Like a rat, you hurried to the other side of the room, setting the tray on a small table.

You opened the decanter, pouring the red wine into the glass. You took your time to avoid spilling anything. You needed to be out of the room as soon as possible. The weight of Rhaenyra's eyes on you was equivalent to the ceiling collapsing onto you. A scenario you would've preferred over this one; at least then death would be quicker than this slow burn.

There was a soft clank as you set down the crystal decanter. With the glass of wine in hand, you turned and walked towards Rhaenyra. Eyes lowered to the floor, and counting each step taken, you set the glass on the vanity, a few inches from Rhaenyra's hand, that tightly gripped the wood's edge.

You didn't mutter a word, simply lowering into a slight curtsey before turning and exiting the room. Except you hadn't made it that far, only crossing half of the room before Rhaenyra spoke.

"Wait."

You stopped in your tracks, the hammer of your heart so loud you wouldn't be surprised if all of Dragonstone heard it.

"Come here."

Your eyes fluttered shut, unsure whether you should be relieved or terrified. She would either take you in her arms as she had nearly every night the past year, or she'd fully sever the thread that tied the two of you together.

Deeply you inhaled, held it for a moment, then exhaled, opening your eyes. You turned, eyes still on the floor, as you returned to where Rhaenyra sat. You waited for her to speak, terrified of what she may say. So silent you could've blended into the walls; things had never been this way between you. Rhaenyra had always been more of a friend than a superior and then a friend that became a lover.

But now she would become a stranger again.

"Would you brush my hair and plait it for bed?" She spoke to you as if you were a stranger, even-toned and perfectly polite. But perhaps if you'd been looking anywhere other than your feet, you'd have noticed the storm of emotions reflected in her eyes.

Wordlessly you nodded, grabbing the hair brush and meticulously brushing out any knots and tangles. You made quick work of it but refrained from seeming too eager to finish the task. The last thing you needed was to potentially anger Rhaenyra, something you'd never been afraid of. But nothing was as it once was.

Her hair was like silk threads between your fingers as you wove each strand into one braid that fell down the middle of her back. While your eyes focused solely on her hair and the task at hand, Rhaenyra's were on you.

A soft smile curled at the edges of her lips, heart heavy with anxiety and fear she didn't dare speak into existence. It wasn't that she wanted to push you away. But as paranoia and fear took root within her mind, rotting away her faith and belief that there were good things out there, distancing herself was better than watching you twist into someone who hated her.

Yet even as she resolved herself to do such, creating an armor of ice to encase herself with, the sting of heartbreak hit her heart. While she would self-soothe with reassurances that it was only raw for now, that soon the ache would dull, she wasn't convinced. In the loneliness of the night, her bed was entirely too big. You should've been in the space beside her, greeting her with sleepy smiles and bleary eyes that sparkled like stars.

Rhaenyra was sure that she'd be getting over you her whole life. Yet missing you wasn't the worst of it.

Never a player of the Great Game the nobles busied themselves with, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was evident the hurt you bore from her sudden withdrawal. Shockwaves of trembling hands and unsteady breaths plagued you, eyes not as bright as they once had been. She noticed it all, and it was like a dagger to the heart every time she did. She never wanted to hurt you; she never wanted you to hate her.

Yet the fear of you twisting the dagger embedded in her chest from past betrayal made her rash. It made her paranoid, visions of treachery riddling her with madness. Alone in the dark, twisting in her sheets, Rhaenyra's doubts spiraled out of control.

But in the solitude of her room, Rhaenyra could feel her walls weakening as your nimble fingers brushed through her hair.

You continued your work on Rhaenyra's hair, nearly finished as you reached the end. Before Rhaenyra could return the mask of indifference to her face, you were tying her braid with a cord, eyes moving from her head to meet her eyes in the mirror. Reflected in her eyes was the same pain and longing in yours. It made a lump return to your throat, a small sliver of hope like dawn coming after night.

Neither of you spoke, your hands still tangled in the ends of her hair. Time had stopped, the both of you screaming a million things with your eyes. Yet neither of you could understand the other, leading to more confusion as your heart continued to break. She nearly reached out and snatched your hands; in fact, she was lifting her hand, fingers outstretched--

The sudden rumble of thunder broke the silence as you jumped back from Rhaenyra, hands falling to your side, and Rhaenyra mourned the loss of your touch. She realized how much she truly missed it.

"Will that be all, my lady?" You lowered your head, eyes once again on your feet.

Rhaenyra hesitated. She'd wanted you to stay, to pull you into her arms and make you swear you'd never leave her. She wanted you to leave kisses on her face, punctuating each one with a promise of undying fealty, not as an heir to the Iron Throne but as the woman you loved. So close within her grasp, she could have reached out and captured your hand, holding it so tight she wouldn't feel a thing. Everything she wanted stood before her, patiently waiting for her to speak.

And yet Rhaenyra found herself tongue-tied, fighting a war no one else knew was waging. Could she take the leap, put her faith, trust, and everything sacred to her in you, and just simply hope you wouldn't turn your back on her? Could she fully bare her soul, grant you her heart, and pray you wouldn't crush it? Love involved a leap of faith that Rhaenyra was hesitant to take.

How could she open up after so much betrayal from the ones she least expected it from?

But at the same time, all she was feeling was pain that she had inflicted on herself. Was she some sort of masochist, content with being hurt so long as she could wield when and who it came from?

"Princess?" Your voice pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts as she refocused on her surroundings. You were looking at her, a hint of concern in the cracks of your neutral expression.

It only made Rhaenyra's heart twist. You should be cursing her name, swearing up and down the halls Rhaenyra Targaryen was a cheat and a liar. And yet...

You still cared; it shone in how you watched her, eyes too keen and all-knowing. But if you were all-knowing, why couldn't you see the paranoid propaganda she was feeding herself? She wished, more than anything, you were the mind reader she often joked you were.

Time seemed to slow, unknown words forming on her tongue and falling from her mouth.

"Stay with me."

For a moment you stared at her, entirely sure you'd heard her wrong. Yet even as you replayed her answer over and over again, it hadn't changed. She wanted you to stay. Yet even as you lit up with newfound optimism, you crushed it before it could blossom. You didn't want to be let down.

You then nodded, unable to stifle the small smile on your lips. "Of course, princess. What is it you require of me?"

Rhaenyra picked up the glass of wine that had remained untouched up until that moment, and she stood from the vanity. She tipped the glass back, welcoming the bitter taste of it.

"Have a drink with me."

You nodded, following Rhaenyra as she walked towards the table where you had placed the decanter of wine. You moved to pour the glass, but Rhaenyra beat you to it, filling a second glass she presented before topping off her own.

"Thank you," you muttered, taking the glass and tentatively sipping. It was all so familiar, like a sense of deja-vu from when the two of you would sip wine and explore fantasies that could never be. Yet the air was never this thick with tension.

Rhaenyra sat at the table, motioning with her head for you to follow suit, which you did. Your fingers drummed on the wood, nerves making you restless. It felt as though you were awaiting trial for crimes against the crown.

Unspoken words hovered in the atmosphere, tangible yet elusive. Rhaenyra drank the wine like water while you hardly touched yours. Your stomach was so twisted that the thought of drinking anything made you nauseous.

The only indication that any time had passed was the dwindling wine and the storm that continued to rage outside. After her third glass had been drained, Rhaenyra set down the cup, pushing it away to indicate she was finished.

Only then did her eyes find yours, expression severe and austere. There were small lines along her forehead from the furrow of her brows and creases from the frown on her lips. You wanted to smooth them all and kiss away whatever made her so cold, yet that wasn't your place anymore.

"Do you love me?" She spoke softly, yet a sharp edge to her words carried the weight of an unspoken accusation. She judged you guilty of crimes you never even committed, put you in a cell, and destroyed the key without so much of a trial.

Yet you could do nothing but answer her earnestly because no matter the number of cuts in your skin from her sudden distance, your heart would always belong to her and only her.

"Yes."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightens, and in the flicker of the candles, you see the quiver of her lip and the slight shake of her form. She was crumbling, ash to the fire you radiated. Any resolve to preserve her heart in the act of self-sabotage was destroyed.

"Say it." The words were strained, Rhaenyra's eyes shut so tight the skin might rip. Tears pricked in her eyes, and Rhaenyra did her best to keep them at bay.

"I love you." You said it with such conviction and sincerity, Rhaenyra nearly believed it. Her eyes remained shut, but her body slackened and sunk into her chair. However, you leaned forward, eyes narrowed as everything clicked into place.

"Is that why you have been so distant and different? Did you believe I did not love you?" You asked, hands finding Rhaenyra's. You gripped them tightly as if to force Rhaenyra to truly see you.

"It is silly," she laughed, the sounds hollow and empty. She refused to look at you, knowing the burning passion in your eyes would make her fully give in. But she needed to maintain the walls around her heart, even if you kept tearing them down as she put them into place. She wouldn't be hurt by anyone ever again.

"It is not," you argued, squeezing her hand. "Look at me." She didn't heed your request, stubbornly turning her head away. You stood, the wood of your chair scraping against the stone floor, and you kneeled before Rhaenyra, pulling one of her hands into yours, elbows resting atop her knees.

"Rhaenyra, look at me." Still, she refused. With your free hand, you forced her head to face you. "'Nyra, please." With your final plea, her eyes fluttered open, purple iris' glossy from unshed tears. Diamonds under her eyes glistened, carving a path down her cheek as a few stray tears fell.

"I love you. I have loved you since the day I laid my eyes upon you. I need you to know that to understand the way I feel will never change."

"You don't know that. You cannot predict how you will feel in the future." She was stubbornly arguing, clinging to the last bit of fight she had. Your touch was burning her skin from her humiliation at appearing so weak.

"No, I may not be able to see the future, but I know how I feel for you, and I know that won't change."

"I can't be hurt again. All my enemies were once friends, and I cannot bear to see the same happen to you. I cannot lose you." Her hand ghosted over your cheek, her hand that was in your grasp interlocking with your fingers.

"And you will not. I won't betray you as Queen Alicent of Ser Criston or any of the others that left scars on you. What must I do to make you see that?"

Sharply Rhaenyra inhaled, choked sobs raking through her body. "I do not know how to stop it. I am terrified, so terrified. I do not want to be disappointed, not again."

You swallowed thickly, allowing her words to process as your thumbs stroked the palm of her hand. Like the weather outside, you were a tempest of emotions. A blend of sadness, desperation to comfort Rhaenyra, and burning anger towards those at King's Landing who had created these wounds.

Rhaenyra always had to maintain a strong facade as the heir to the throne, especially with her claim constantly being questioned. But for now, you would be the source of strength she had to be for so many people.

Rhaenyra continued to cry as you all but cradled her against you.

"Then I promise to do my best to never let that happen, and if it does, and one of us is let down by the other, I'll do my damndest to ensure I am the one that gets hurt."

Rhaenyra was too stunned to speak, the passion behind your words taking her aback. She pulled her head back from your chest to give you a wide-eyed stare.

You were truly in love with her; you'd meant every sleepy promise and quiet confession. The words you spoke hadn't been hasty or impulsive. They were an oath sworn under a canopy of stars with the gods as your witness. Rhaenyra had been a fool to not realize it before.

"I love you."

It was all she uttered before her lips were on yours. The kiss was salty from the tears falling from Rhaenyra's eyes, but you didn't mind, more than content to be pulled beneath the waves of her waters.

This kiss felt different from all the others you'd shared, a show of affection and relief that the cold war waging between you was over. There would be peace, and Rhaenyra could return to her home in your arms.

It was also more than that; it was also a declaration of devotion between the two of you, as sacred as any wedding. The waters would be rough, and the two of you could never truly be together anywhere other than the privacy of these four walls. Yet it was everything you'd wanted.

Rhaenyra was everything you wanted.

You returned her fervor, determined to make her feel every word you hadn't spoken. Gently, your tongue slipped past her lips, and you swallowed the small gasp she let out. One hand was on the nape of her neck, keeping her close while the other traced patterns along the curve of her cheek. She tasted like wine and imported berries from the Reach, an intoxicating blend that made your mind grow hazy.

She pulled back first, only centimeters separating the two of you. Eye to eye, her forehead resting on yours, she breathed in. The tip of her nose brushed against yours as you panted.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. How could you possibly forgive me," Rhaenyra spoke with as much reverence as a Sept reciting sacred prayers.

"Because I love you," you spoke, lips brushing over hers. "I love you, and I will continue to do so until the end of my days."

"I do not deserve you."

You cupped her cheek in such a soft and delicate fashion. She was a work of art, and you'd handle her with the care she deserved.

"You deserve so much more than you've been given, 'Nyra. I cannot give you much, but I will give you all my love; I can promise you that. I will never betray you, I will never leave you, and I will never, ever stop loving you."

She breathed out a laugh, a sweet smile on her swollen lips that were bruised from the kiss you'd shared. "And I promise you that when I am named Queen, I will make a new order and marry you, proprietary be damned. I want you, and I will have you. No court, army, or god could stop me."

There was a glow on your face, her words making you feel as high as the heavens. The smile on your face would never be wiped off. Truth rang in Rhaenyra's words, and you knew they weren't pretty promises to make you feel all light and giggly.

"Do not start a war for me," you muttered in a playful tone, undoing the plait you had done so you could card your fingers through her hair.

"I would burn down the entire world for you." She spoke with such devotion it made your cheeks flush pink.

"Perhaps we start with you kissing me again."

And Rhaenyra complied with your request, over and over again, determined to make up for the hurt she inflicted.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #house targaryen #hotd #queen rhaenyra #angst and comfort #taylor swift inspired

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 months ago

Note

More erik?? Love a man who'll kill

You were on your knees listening to the monologue that was happening. Fighting for consciousness. Pain radiated from so many places you weren't even sure what was injured anymore.

Or why you felt cold. Was the room cold? Your head had been shaved. And the only reason you were upright was that your arms were bound above your head- you couldn't even light your head on your own anymore. It felt like lead.

It wasn't until you were staring down the barrel of the gun, to numb and too cold to feel fear. Repeating what you'd said before "No child should suffer." Through your voice cracked and trembled. From screaming in pain and for want of water- that you hoped if there really was a God he'd let you scream at him for a while.

Except the gun never went off. Not at you, anyway. And then there was nothing.

________

A human woman lay in the bed in front of him. Battered and tortured. And Erik felt a pang of kinship. And respect. She had stared her death in the face and never wavered. Never recanted.

Utterly degraded and physically broken, they couldn't take the heart- her conviction from her. And the defiance was still there. Her spirit remained- dented, perhaps, but unbroken.

He stroked the bare skin of your scalp gently and bent to kiss your forehead, "Rest," he said. "You're safe here."

This was a human who deserved to be protected. An example of humanity's best. Of that he was certain. Somethings, you would never understand- but you would try. And a human who would try was a human who was a worthy ally.

That was not something to be taken lightly in a world where there was so much hate- and apathy.

When you stir in your sleep, troubled if the crease on your brow is any indication, Erik strokes your head again gently, "Rest," he repeats. "No one here is going to harm you, little one."

And he took a seat, waiting. You'd slept for hours. But the pain medication you'd been given would only work so long. And soon you would need more. And food. And water. You were human. Fragile. It would be a poor way to repay your bravery having you wake up alone and leaving you frightened in this room too scared to call out for help- uncertain what would come through the door.

He listens to your breathing carefully. And when it becomes whimpers and when you wake, panting and terrified, he's there. "Easy," he soothed. "You're safe."

"I can't- oh god-" You cry out in pain and look up at the man in front of you. Your vision is blurry and everything is a jumble of events in your mind as you reach out. Nothing makes any sense. But- His voice is deep and soothing and the touch of the calloused hands on your face wiping away tears is gentle.

"Shhh," He administered the pain medication into your IV and glanced at your heart monitor concerned. Had they driven you mad?

"Fuck-"

"Be still, little one," he said as you started to relax. "You have broken ribs. And a broken clavicle- and countless other injuries."

"Where-"

"With friends," Erik said. He can see you struggling to make sense of that. Trying to grab your next question but you can't. The medicine is strong and your body is just too injured. Too over-taxed. "Drink," he said, smiling a little. "You need water. And I have something to eat coming. Soup."

And when he holds a cup to your lips and you drink like it's the first water you've had in years he nods, This is good. He let you drink until you were done and stroked your head, "Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You're safe," he said, "on my honor. You'll not be harmed and you'll be taken care of."

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherrxreader #human!reader #ask answer #minors dni #reader insert

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Break Me Down - Part 11

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Happy Father's Day and early Juneteenth! In honor of the holiday weekend, here's an early chapter update. 😘

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Part 11: The Lion’s Den

“Where is she?” Ben asked, once he and Frank were loaded in the car.

Loco and his team had to stay behind as their distraction for escape. If they weren’t slaughtered, they’d be taken into custody.

Ben knew he could’ve wasted all of them, Butcher, his team, the CIA, but the nuclear power in his chest had refused to cooperate…

Anyway, Black Noir hadn’t been there. So it was all the more useless to stick around. The real plan was with you, and he was very surprised that you’d stuck to it…but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

“She was brought to the Tower,” Frank informed him.

Ben smirked. “Good. But pretty fucking stupid of Stan to stick around there when he knew I’d be coming.”

He looked over and noticed Frank’s frown as he drove.

“Unless he’s not at the Tower,” Frank said.

Ben’s smirk fell. Why would that prick take her there if…

“We have to be open to the possibility that his Chief of Security is taking the matter of his daughter into his own hands,” Frank said. “Or she’s improvising.”

Ben frowned.

That didn’t change when they arrived at the Tower, and attempted to use the entrance through the back garage to avoid attention. But it didn’t matter.

The entire squad of Vought security, included what looked like some added muscle (hopped up on what smelled like V24), met them when they reached the lobby of the building. Now that the Seven had been disbanded, there was no pretense of “good guys vs. bad guys.” It was just defense and siege.

And in front of them all was Black Noir.

“There you are,” Ben said, but the other supe didn’t even tilt his head in greeting. He was a still statue, an attack dog given a single mission.

When Noir surged forward, Ben ran to meet him. It was a clash of blade to shield, fist to fist, grappling and reflexes that only Compound V could endow. The match tore through the lobby, then up the large staircase as Ben continued to fight his way up to Stan’s office.

Frank was already on his way up to you, but it would take him time with Vought security crawling all over them. He was good, and temporarily a supe, but he was still just one man.

Meanwhile, Ben and Noir’s fight spilled into the upper floors, through walls and offices and screaming employees trying to get out of their way.

Once they reached near the floor below Stan’s office, Ben got an arm around Black Noir’s neck, and with his free hand tried to unmask him. He wanted to know for sure what lied underneath it, if it was actually the Noir he knew. Or if it was something else entirely.

But Noir twisted with superior reflexes and flipped Ben hard over his shoulder. In the process, he ripped off Ben’s helmet. His brown hair hung over his brows as he pushed to his feet, deliberately taking his time.

When he turned, Noir was standing there with the helmet crunched in his hand. Rolling his neck, Ben prepared to jump back into the fight, but a new sound reached his ears.

He heard you on the floor above. And you were fighting someone…

Ben pressed a finger to the comm in his ear.

“Frank, you got eyes on her?”

V24 had endowed the man with x-ray vision. A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.

“She needs help,” he said gravely.

Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.

Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this.

Right fucking now.

That resolve helped him take a deep breath, then summon the energy inside him. He focused with the aim of blasting a clean stream of power at Black Noir; not enough to take out the whole building, but enough to take out just him.

His insides felt molten when the power collected, and finally released at his target.

Noir covered himself at the last moment with a piece of fallen debris (a half-crumbled wall), but it only created a small buffer. The force of the blast itself pushed him down the hall and through the side of the building.

Meanwhile, you were holding your own…but you were also getting beat to hell.

You were battered, with blood dribbling down the corner of your mouth from a particularly bad hit.

You were still standing though.

“You’ve gotten soft,” Jon remarked. He’d broken a sweat, had some bruises, and was panting for breath just like you. But he was more in control as he swatted a well-aimed, yet ultimately weak fist as your strength waned. He used his own to smack you down again.

“I gave you time to come around, and this is what you did with it,” he said, shaking his head. “Disappointing.”

When you tried to stand on shaking legs, he kicked you in the dead center of your chest. You felt your ribs crack as you fell back into the glass coffee table.

You gasped for breath, turning onto your side as glass pricked at your back, your sides, your arm. You coughed, wincing at the agony of knife-like pain near your lungs. Blood flecked from your mouth onto your arm, and for a moment, you stared at it in a daze.

But then Jon was above you. You tried to swipe at his face, but he bat your hand away, his brows furrowed angrily. He turned you back onto your back and wrapped a hand around your neck. Your eyes flew wide with panic.

He squeezed with enough pressure that it wouldn’t crush your windpipe, but it was sure to knock you out eventually. You slapped and clawed at his hand, but he only shushed you.

“What you need now is what you’ve always needed. A firm hand,” he said. “But I’m going to help you. I promise, I will.”

The fight drained out of you as it became impossible to breathe, and harder still to block out his words from entering your brain.

But then, the vice around your throat was gone. Oxygen poured back into your lungs as you gasped, then coughed again when your fractured ribs protested.

Your eyelids fluttered open in time to see your father thrown hard into the far wall. You heard the sick crack and breaking of bone as he landed.

Still, you struggled to breathe.

Tears leaked from your eyes when you looked up and found Ben. His helmet was missing, and he wore a furious, steely frown. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except for more coughing, and more blood.

To your surprise, he tucked his shield on his back and bent down to scoop you up into his arms.

You cringed, uttering an agonized sound when he tried to move you.

Ben hesitated. Looking down at you, some of his anger drained. He made a slower ascent as he straightened to his full height.

And without a word, he carried you out of the room and down the ruined hallway. All the while, you stared at the side of his face. His jaw was still clenched, his brows knitted, his eyes set dead ahead.

You wondered why he had to wait for moments like this to show you who he truly was.

“What are you, some kind of hero?” you managed to quip, offering a small smile.

Ben glanced down at you, and gradually smirked. “Something like that.”

When his foot slipped on a piece of debris, he righted himself quick. But the jerking movement jostled you, eliciting another pained whimper. Your hand gripped at his chest, digging into the grooves of his suit.

“Hold on,” he murmured. His lips briefly pressed to the crown of your head. “We’re getting the fuck outta here.”

Your eyes closed at the tender touch, and a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“He…knew,” you managed to say. “Knew I was lying.”

“I know,” said Ben. “I should’ve fucking known better.”

You marveled at that near apology. Your lips trembled as you rested your head against his chest. You just couldn’t help it anymore.

“Was my idea,” you admitted.

“Yeah, well, evidently not all your ideas are aces,” he said.

You could’ve gotten angry, but you saw the way he moved with care, trying not to slip again for your sake. You tried at a smile.

“Guess not,” you said, though you bit your lip at the pain that seemed to radiate through your entire body. Ben seemed to notice.

“Just relax,” he said, a deep rumble. But there was a soothing note to it, you thought. Or maybe, you just liked the sound of his voice.

Then silence fell between the two of you, both comfortable and tense as Ben focused on potential threats in his surroundings.

All the while, you continued to rest your eyes. Instead of your pain, you tried to concentrate on his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“It’s about fucking time,” you eventually heard Ben grouse.

You opened your eyes and were relieved to see Frank exiting the stairwell to meet you and Ben. His face and black tactical gear were splattered with blood, but he looked fine, more or less. His gaze roamed over you with his usual stoicism, but you thought you saw a glint of concern.

“I take it Stan Edgar isn’t here,” said Frank.

“You could fucking say that,” Ben snarked. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

“Sir.” Frank saw something ahead, behind you. Ben turned to find Black Noir silently standing in the middle of the hall, with a large, suspicious-looking gun in his hands.

Without taking his eyes off Noir, Ben gestured to Frank. He came up beside you, and Ben passed you into Frank’s arms.

“Get her out of here,” Ben ordered. With a nod, Frank carried you back the way he came, towards the staircase. You tried to peer over his shoulder.

“He shouldn’t face Noir alone,” you said, even though every breath was a challenge with the sharp pain in your chest.

“He’ll meet us after,” Frank told you. But as soon as he started down the stairs, a fresh team of Vought security and police came to meet you.

Meanwhile, Ben stared down the hall at his opponent. Black Noir activated the strange gun, which lit up with a blue energy.

“You can bring out any kind of fancy artillery you want, but it’s not going to stop me from killing you,” Ben taunted.

Noir remained silent, of course, but he aimed the gun and fired. It shot a potent, crystal blue beam of energy that ate through Ben’s shield, and eventually hit him in the chest before he could finish revving up his own power. The blast from the gun, it wasn’t hot.

It was ice cold. So frigid that it extinguished the heat that had been building in his chest, but it wasn’t diffusing his power completely…it just made it even harder to control.

And the resulting backlash was overwhelming.

Ben woke slowly, like wading through molasses. Usually his mind was sharp, even when he woke from a booze-induced coma. Now he felt groggy, and it was hard to focus or even force his body to sit up on the hard cot he was laying on.

Glancing down, he realized he’d been changed out of his suit. He was dressed in a plain gray shirt and matching pants, no shoes. He knew a prison outfit when he saw one, just as he now knew where he was: a white padded cell.

Fuck.

At least it was better than a frigid coffin…but in his mind, not by much.

He slid his legs over and managed to push up onto his feet.

Why’s it so fucking misty in here? he thought, waving his hand through the smokey air. And why was he so tired?

He soon got his answer when he realized who stood at the large window at the front of his cell.

Stan Edgar.

The man himself, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, was watching him with crossed arms.

“We did hope you would remain on sabbatical,” said Stan. “But I had a feeling you would return, and come directly to us.”

Stan gestured to the large cell. “This was our contingency plan.”

Ben made his way, with difficulty, closer to Stan, who pointed at the air vents above that were pumping in a gas of some kind.

“A light mist of Novichok,” Stan explained. “Enough to keep you docile.”

“And if I’m not?” Ben asked. His voice was edged with grit, and the promise of retribution.

“We can up the dose, put you to sleep indefinitely,” Stan replied. “But you have my attention. What would you like to discuss?”

“The conversation I planned on having was…a little different,” Ben said darkly. “But first, let’s start with what you used to clone Black Noir.”

“I suppose there’s no real harm in telling you,” Stan said. Even his voice was grating on Ben’s ears, the smug prick.

“We kept some of Homelander’s blood as an insurance policy. But, we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

“Right,” Ben scoffed. “How’s that?”

“This Noir is not a carbon copy, but nor is he a megalomaniac. He’s under our control,” Stan said.

“Until he isn’t,” Ben snarked. If he thought about it, that was something you would say. Maybe your penchant for smart-ass remarks had gotten into his head.

“And that new gun?” he asked. “Don’t tell me your little lab rats put that together just for me.”

Stan’s lips made a wry turn.

“It was a breakthrough project. Temporarily destabilizes the energy you generate when you charge up like a Power Puff Girl.” Stan thought for a moment, then inclined his head. “A reference, I realize, which may be lost on you.”

“So what’s the play here?” Ben said. He was getting impatient. “You know, when I break out, things aren’t gonna be pretty.”

Stan didn’t seem bothered by the clear threat.

“In the meantime,” he said, “you won’t be alone.”

Stan stepped back and revealed the cell right across the hall. Through the window, Ben could see you, lying unconscious on a shitty cot in similar gray pajamas. His brows crunched as he narrowed his eyes, trying to peer in closer. You looked like you’d been bandaged up, at least.

“You also managed to put my Chief of Security in Intensive Care, but his daughter should be fine…if a bit worse for wear,” Stan informed him.

Ben glared back, his lips curling. Sloppy of him. He should’ve made sure that bastard was dead.

“That’s cute, considering he’s the demented fuck who beat her to hell,” Ben said.

Stan rose a solitary brow. “And at whose behest did she enter the lion’s den?”

Ben had nothing to say to that.

You woke with a pained groan before your eyes even opened. Your body felt like a walking welt.

Your brain pounded like bongo drums, your chest felt tender with every infinitesimal movement, but you realized that you’d been seen to medically, at least. Your head was bandaged, and you felt that the blood had been wiped from your face and arms.

You looked up and found, with a sigh, that you were indeed in a cell. But you softened when you found Ben through the large glass window, in a cell of his own. He was sitting on his bed, arms crossed, with his back against the wall. His eyes found yours, and his lips twitched.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He sounded off. Tired, you thought. And you noticed a steady mist being piped into his room.

Shit. Novichok, you surmised with a frown.

“You okay?” you asked.

Ben chuckled a little. “You’re the one who looks like hell.”

“Why, thank you,” you replied wryly.

There was a pitcher and a cup of water on a tray, a small paper cup of what you assumed were painkillers, and an ice pack next to you on the cot.

You hesitated on the pills, but in light of your incredible pain, you had no choice. You took the pills, drank the water, and grabbed the ice pack, pressing it against your sternum. You sat up all the way with a slow gait and a pained groan.

“Go slow,” he warned. “Bet you’re missing that Temp. V right about now.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“How’d you get caught?” he asked.

That succeeded in dimming your mood. You explained that Frank had been forced to set you on your feet when you were confronted by more security and a police squad.

The man had been a one-man weapon; hopped up on V24 as he was, he managed to fight his way down to the garage, where you slowly, painfully crept down there.

You and Frank had almost reached his car, but you held him back. You were stubborn about waiting on Ben, even considered going back for him.

That was when the shot rang out, hitting Frank point blank in the chest.

Before you could even bend to help him, you were taken, dragged back into the building, and knocked out before you could take your captor’s gun.

You tried in vain to wipe away fresh tears while you retold the story.

Bottom line: Frank’s death was your fault. Though while he frowned in disappointment, Ben didn’t seem to hold it against you.

“Good on ya, Frank,” Ben murmured. “You went down fucking swingin’.”

“What about you? What happened with Black Noir?” you asked after a moment. Sniffling, you met Ben’s eyes.

He eventually told you about the strange gun Vought had commissioned just for him. And the more you listened, the deeper your frown became. It sounded impossible.

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve been cooking up in that lab,” you muttered.

“Other than Noir?” Ben quipped. He told you about that too.

“We can figure this out,” you said. “If nothing else, my team, the CIA, they’re looking for both of us…if for different reasons.”

Ben scoffed at that. “A silver lining there. Make no mistake, we’re getting the fuck out of here. Just…need a minute to think.”

But he was starting to wane. It was taking all his energy to concentrate on your voice, to even keep his eyes open. The steady stream of gas being pumped into his cell made it damn near impossible, and it was frustrating beyond belief.

Because if he fell asleep now, there was no telling when he’d wake up. And fuck if Ben would ever admit to the panic he felt welling up into his chest.

“Aaah, fuck!” he growled, pounding a fist against the wall.

You noticed, biting your lip in concern…until an idea made you smile. It was something you used to do to distract your sister when she was little.

“Why are colds bad criminals?” you asked.

Ben just blinked at you. “What?”

He asked not because he understood what you were doing, but because he was genuinely confused.

“Because they’re easy to catch,” you said, making a drumming motion with your hands. “Buddum-ch.”

Your neighbor just stared back at you, unimpressed.

“Okay, not a fan of that one. Let me see…okay,” you raised a finger. “What does a baby computer call its father?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t tell if you were serious.

“Data!” you said, biting your lip at an embarrassed smile. It curved Ben’s lips, but he was stubborn.

“Why was 6 afraid of 7?” you asked.

“Jesus Christ, enough…” he muttered.

“Because 7’s a dick, that’s why,” you said. And your straight face lasted for all of three seconds before you ended up giggling. It hurt your bruised body, but it lightened you to see the reluctant smile tug its way onto Ben’s face.

“All right,” he said at last. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to remember a joke he’d heard Loco tell. “How do you make a pool table laugh?”

You smiled. “How?”

“Tickle its balls,” Ben said. Your answering snort deepened his smile into a smirk.

“Playing bridge is just like sex,” you said. Ben shook his head. His grandmother used to play fucking bridge.

But regardless, he took the bait.

“How’s that?”

“If you don’t have a good partner, you better have a good hand,” you said with a smirk.

Ben made a sound of amusement, though it wasn’t quite a laugh. You traded these back and forth, each trying to make the other crack with progressively dirtier jokes (though you suspected Ben was just trying to disgust you).

You considered yourself the winner when Ben finally chortled a deep, belly laugh that showed his charming smile.

It made you smile in return.

Ben rested a hand on his chest, but when his mirth died down, he realized just how tired he was. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go of this. His connection with you tethered him to reality, even if reality sucked dick right now.

His gaze met yours. “Why don’t you sing something, crooner?”

You bit your lip once again. “Like what?”

Ben’s eyes closed.

“You know the one,” he said. A softer smile graced your lips, though he couldn’t see it.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” you teased. He chuckled.

“Just sing, for fuck’s sake.”

His brows were knitted, like he was trying all he could to stay awake. You took pity on him.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…” you began to sing softly. “If I didn’t care…would I feel this way?”

Every extended note was painful, but it was worth it to see his face relax.

Stan Edgar’s lips pursed, and he set down his cell phone on his desk. Victoria was screening his calls.

Disappointing, he thought, but not unexpected. He surveyed the cleanup crew wiping up debris, glass, and blood from the lounge area with a dispassionate gaze.

This was going to take a while.

So after drumming his fingers on the mahogany surface, Stan decided to push up from his desk and head downstairs via the elevator. It took him all the way down to Level 0, the home of one of Vought’s most secure R&D labs.

There his most trusted scientist, Dr. Tonya Baker, was at the helm with her team at work on various projects. Most of which were not sanctioned by the government.

Stan folded his hands behind his back and reached her side, and she set down a beaker filled with a green, buzzing liquid.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted.

“Tonya, you know what I’m about to ask,” he said. She bobbed her head and turned to face him in her rolling desk chair.

“We’re still working on solutions. Without his cooperation, safely extracting Soldier Boy’s DNA is a tricky thing,” she said.

“You don’t say?” Stan said dryly. “What are our options?”

“Well, needles will only break, as you know,” said Dr. Baker. “The scientists in Russia found that only Soldier Boy is strong enough to break his own skin.”

“And I doubt he’ll open a vein for us,” Stan said, “even if we threaten to put him to sleep.”

He didn’t even think leveraging with the girl would aid, more than complicate their goals. While it was something to consider, Stan would rather find the path of least resistance here. Soldier Boy was…volatile at best.

“How much of Homelander’s blood remains?” he asked.

“None,” the doctor replied. “We used the last of it to clone Black Noir. And a hair sample is not enough to create additional subjects…at the very least, a urine sample. Even Dr. Vogelbaum managed that.”

Stan sent her shrewd look. If only he still had Dr. Vogelbaum in his employ. If only the man were still alive.

What a waste of a talented, resourceful man.

“That will be a problem,” Stan said.

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Baker adjusted a monitor screen at her desk. It displayed the feed from Soldier Boy’s cell.

She pointed to the toilet in the corner of the cell. Then she called over one of her assistants.

“Tell Maintenance to cut the water, and then a section of the pipes.”

AN: Okay. 😅 I know I'm gonna get some mixed reviews on this one (Let me know what you thought!).

But despite the teaser, I think you'll enjoy where the story's headed next...

Next Time:

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber.

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted.

Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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#The Lion's Den #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 11 #zepskies writes

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cocogum · 5 months ago

Text

The Great Wave - Chapters 9 + 10 Review

‼️SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

Warning(s): watch me bully an old man, aurora slander, osamodas king slander, fat shaming, excessive use of foul language, racism, misogyny, did I mention I loath Aurora?, they’re both bad antagonists your honor, cyberbullying, PURE LOATHING.

I’d like to add a side note here:

I initially planned on reviewing chapters 9 and 10 separately but when I saw that confrontation between Aurora and Amalia, I decided to fuse the two instead. I did NOT want to talk about these specific chapters in their distinct posts because it would’ve sucked to see the conflict between Aurora and Amalia getting cut off in the middle of it.

We’re back.

Let the pummelling begin.

Aurora immediately starts making a fart face as she begins diving down to “attack” Amalia.

Are we impressed? No.

Should we be scared? No.

Should we expect any twist in the fight? No.

As soon as Aurora stupidly declared she wanted to fight, we all knew she was gonna get beat up to shit. Tot and Cathiane were trying very hard not to cringe while showing this. You can trust me, I was there in the room with them when they were thinking about this scene.

This is just very painful but my god was it funny as fuck.

This blue bitch with the witch face really thought she could take on a Mother Nature wielder with her chicken fingers please someone get this moron a brain.

Also what reason could Aurora possibly have to have wanted to beat Amalia to a pulp all these years? She claims she’s dreamed of doing this for so long but based on what reason? The fact that Amalia rejected all of Aurora’s weakass brothers and cousin for marriage? The fact that she would respectfully and calmly try to talk to Aurora even though she never liked her??? Bitch, what was the reason that would have made her so mad you wanted to beat her up????

Even Bonta will hear her scream in pain??? Girl, what the fuck are you babbling about? She clinically does not have a brain, where the fuck did it go? Aurora, YOU KNOW Amalia goes out and travels, right??? You know that her squad is filled with divinities, right??? What part of you thought it was a good idea to say that out loud AND think you had THE ADVANTAGE?????

This bitch wouldn’t survive a day outside of her kingdom, this is so fucking embarrassing. I loath her guts but imagine how embarrassed I’m feeling for her. She’s mentally slow. She doesn’t realize anything that’s coming out of her mouth and doesn’t use whatever’s up in that head of hers to properly think of any situation she’s in. She can’t think for herself, she can’t talk for herself if she wants to claim something, she can’t figure out the level of danger that she’s in, she can’t fight, she can’t lead, she can’t speak politely to servants, she can’t even be honest in a normal situation. I bet she can’t even make a sandwich for me, this hoe is even useless in the kitchen, on god.

And finally. FINALLY.

WE FINALLY GET TO HEAR AMALIA SAY THOSE WORDS.

You have no idea how much I fucking wanted Amalia to beat the living crap out of her and tell her how fucking weak she truly is compared to her. I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since we saw her stupid ass “family” make its entrance in Chapter 1.

YES, TELL THIS CUNT THE SEVERE GAP OF YOUR STRENGTH LEVEL ‼️‼️‼️

TURN THIS BITCH INTO A MCSANDWICH ‼️

Amalia is speaking our thoughts so coherently. Not once did we think Aurora was a menace, let alone even an antagonist. This bitch is just so braindead and one-dimensional that even calling her “self-aware” or “sentient” is odd to say.

With all the shit she’s been doing, Aurora is not even an annoyance, she’s a migraine.

This shot of her just getting the shit get beaten out of her made me so happy, you have no idea.

Like Tot must’ve been WAITING to see this hoe get wrecked too.

@geekgirles once explained how the osamodas’ strength might just be very weak compared to other races and how that weakness reflected itself based on where it was positioned in Oropo's tower. Coqueline can also be considered as a preview of what Aurora and her dad's strength would've looked like in the great wave because even Coqueline STRUGGLED to throw good attacks while fighting Oropo. She was canonically confirmed to be the oldest of the Siblings (even older than Echo) and yet the only thing she could have come up with while fighting Oropo was to use her teeth to try to tear Oropo's new form?? She literally went on all fours and tried to attack him with basic primitive skills. Literally what the heck.

So yeah, Aurora is unsurprisingly getting beat up and thrown around like a rag-doll by Amalia.

Amalia, honey.

Aurora’s not naive, she’s just really slow.

And yet that’s not even what we can describe it either.

Your pride is still here dumbass cuz you don’t look fine at all.

You got thrown so hard you couldn’t even fly, bitch.

Hoe thinks she was fine after the beating AND the throwing and then lies again about it.

Fucking pathetic.

I bet if she got a sword stabbed in her womb, she’d be like “i’M FiNe FaThER, bUt I cAN’t SaY tHe SaMe fOr mY pRiDe.” SHUT YOUR DUMBASS UP-

When Amalia comes up to them, this is where the osamodas king pulls out another weak manipulation tactic by saying this:

Motherfucker, you attempted to kick her out of her kingdom, her home, what the fuck are you talking about? Bitch is clarifying that Aurora’s child is Amalia’s nephew now??? He is so fucking weak, he’d pretend like he never tried kicking her out like a complete stranger just to save his own skin.

This dick dared to throw the “he’s your family” card on her as if he didn’t just encourage Aurora to tell Amalia she doesn’t belong in her fucking kingdom a few hours ago.

Dude thought he ate, this is so embarrassing.

Look at him trying to scramble his way out of this.

Now that he realizes how weak and pathetic he is against A PRINCESS WHO BECAME QUEEN JUST A FEW MONTHS AGO, he’s trying to do anything in his power to do what he does best to get out of this alive: lie and manipulate.

Only this predictably fails since Amalia had enough of his and his trophy daughter’s bullshit of constantly being forced to have them around.

And Amalia is absolutely pissed off that they can just say whatever they want so SHE ENUMERATES THE THINGS THAT THEY DID JUST SO SHE CAN BE SURE IT FINALLY DRILLED IN THEIR HEADS.

Even though what she said wasn’t exactly everything they did, she still has a right to point out the main thing they are known for since the necrome war.

But nah, they’re too stupid to actually get it and don’t even bear a second to the idea that their actions could have cost AN ENTIRE FUCKING RACE TO ERASE FROM THE WORLD. Imagine not having a full grasp of the idea that you could have been responsible for an entire race disappearing but also be the reason why the world had suddenly lost about 15% of its population in under a second.

No jackass you’re not leaving.

You’re dying here.

Also what the fuck? He got backed to a corner by a queen newbie and he still has the balls to say that he’ll come back???

Is he trying to see his daughter get her ass kicked again???? Or is he trying to see how long he could last the next time they meet????

How the fuck is he king??? What the hell is that strategy he came up with???? You call that a STRATEGY?????

Now I understand why we never saw him in any of the past seasons before. I understand why his fucking advisor has to be king for him.

Cuz he sucks at his own fucking job.

That guy hired his counsellor to represent him which is why every time the royal council of the world had to reunite, it was always the old white-bearded dude who spoke and was actually present.

This fucking gorilla was so absent from his own duties. So much so, that for an extremely long time, since 2012, we all thought the white-bearded guy representing the osamodas race from Season 2 was actually the real osamodas king. It wouldn’t surprise me if his own people thought his counsellor was their king because not only did WE think that way, but it was also because we learned in Season 4 that this fucking gorilla stayed in caves for long undetermined amounts of time and would hang around with THESE UGLY CRUSTY BATS WE’VE SEEN IN THESE TEN CHAPTERS while he’d be there doing god knows what with them.

This man, actually no that’s not a man. I’d be insulting them if I was insinuating he was one of them.

This fat ugly gorilla not only thinks he can just come back from a fight he already lost without any shame or awareness, but he thought he could handle TWO KINGDOMS AT THE SAME TIME WHEN HE WASN’T EVEN PERSONALLY TAKING CARE OF HIS OWN TO BEGIN WITH.

We don’t even know why he’s been in the caves on his own for so long but it sure as hell couldn’t have been more important than taking care of A FUCKING NATION, YOU FUCKING IDIOTIC CUNT-

I was so ecstatic when I saw that panel cuz not only did that mean I was going to see more prolonged pummelling, but it also means I get to see Aurora act like a total dumbfuck more.

Ew.

By the way, I love how @articwolfclawartist noticed the parallels with the choking here.

Amalia then commits animal abuse and that’s how these two ended up on the ground looking like disheveled and panting losers.

So Amalia not only beats AN OSAMODAS PRINCESS but also AN OSAMODAS KING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME.

Must be embarrassing for the osamodas king above all. This fat gorilla is much older, more experienced than Aurora, and has been a king for a long time even before Amalia and Aurora were even born.

And who did he lose to?

To a young Sadida princess who became queen just a few months ago.

The fight hadn’t even lasted 30 minutes and he already lost by forfeiting the battle when he realized he and his trophy daughter had been cornered by sadida bomb dolls.

I repeat.

This “man”, who was king for decades, lost a deadly battle against a princess who became queen a few months ago.

He is such a fucking clown and so are all his offsprings cuz my god he has so many.

….she’s incredibly slow what the fuck.

I bet my whole bank account that the entire iop race can skillfully determine when their opponent wants to kill them better than Aurora.

Aurora: “ShE…sHe’S rEAlLy tRYinG To KiLl uS…”

Aurora a second ago: “I’d rather die than run away from that little brat…”

@pinkysgallery summarized it perfectly here.

And just like animals being hunted in the wild, Amalia corners them with freaking bomb dolls and makes these two look terrified as shit. Good. Their fears make me ecstatically happy.

But AURORA has the fucking nerve to speak again and make her look even more braindead than she already was.

I have so many things to say about this moment:

1) What is bitch talking about? This is the shit she can come up with? “ShOrt TeMpErEd”??? You guys didn’t even talk during the fight so how was she short-tempered if she didn’t speak about anything that would have made her look short-tempered???

2) Aurora is a fucking hypocrite but she’s such a hypocrite that she can’t connect the dots and realize how slow she looks when she quickly snapped just for seeing a female sadida servant being scared of her crusty bat, a male Sadida and a female eliatrope getting married, and knowing that she couldn’t fight Amalia so she still went on and tried doing that and expectedly failed miserably.

3) Contradicted to what??????? What is the chicken yapping about????

I believe she took her worthless manipulation “skill” from her dad. If you pay attention to her ugly chicken claws in the panel above, it’s shaking meaning that she’s genuinely scared of Amalia when she FINALLY learned that the boss-ass queen was trying to kill her.

See, here’s the thing I don’t get.

Sure, the osamodas king did not poison Yugo because we see who it was later on after the osamodas king’s interaction with Amalia ends.

But, here he is again telling Amalia she has no place IN HER FUCKING HOME ANYMORE.

According to who??? Who said she doesn’t belong here??? You??? The fucking outsider??? The king to ANOTHER FUCKING KINGDOM???

Oh yeah, right. You don’t rule your own kingdom that’s true. Your fucking counsellor does your job for you so that you can chill with some ugly crusty bats in caves and probably fuck them too while you’re at it.

He just said that she shouldn’t have hurt her nephew but bitch, if she’s his nephew, that then technically means she has to stay in her kingdom to teach him the Sadida way cuz he’s technically gonna be the future Sadida king. Literally what the fuck????

Ever since these two loser clowns came, they told her she had to leave but why????? When Armand got married to Aurora, Amalia stayed and there were no objections. So why is it a problem now??? If anything, now is the best time for her to stay cuz she’s the only one in the royal Sadida family who’s left and can teach her nephew the Sadida culture.

These people treat kingdoms so badly and have poor organisation to the point that the osamodas king had to be replaced by his fucking counsellor.

Fucking kill me already.

I don’t believe Amalia will receive any severe consequences. If she was ever interrogated and she told them the story from her perspective, these two bozos would look extremely suspicious. Cuz from Amalia’s pov, this is what she could say: “I was having a normal day, these two show up and demand the thrown and tell me to leave and on the very same day, my husband gets poisoned so I attack them and fight them. The fight hasn’t lasted 30 minutes and they easily leave.”

Also from who is she going to get any kind of consequence??

The other rulers??? They wouldn’t dare do anything when Yugo’s acting so unhinged right now.

From Gorilla and Chicken’s “family”??? They are so many, I’m pretty sure one of them wouldn’t mind taking the osamodas throne if it means taking the side of Amalia.

Sure, Amalia will learn that Gorilla and Chicken weren’t actually responsible for Yugo’s poisoning but do you really think she’d still give them her position after knowing they weren’t guilty? Hell no.

This fight meant more than just punishing them for thinking they had committed a crime. This fight also meant the beginning of her separation from the osamodas. For too long she had been forced to get used to them around her when Armand was alive but now she’s queen and gets to finally decide to cut them off for good.

In a way, this is also ironic. Gorilla and Chicken were expecting to cut off Amalia from her kingdom and yet here she is cutting them off from what they thought would be theirs if they just yapped and acted like fake responsible royals.

YEAH FUCKING KICK THEM OUT MAKE THEM WISH THEY WERE NEVER HERE ‼️‼️‼️‼️

I’m so happy she finally fucking beat the shit out of them so that they can FINALLY learn that they have no place here.

YOU BLUE-SKINNED DEVILS HAVE NO PLACE WITH THE SADIDAS GO BACK TO YOUR OWN COUNTRY ‼️‼️

Man, they’re such racists too cuz they realized the eliatropes stayed here, can you believe that? The audacity.

I’m just pissed that she didn’t kill them off though. They might come back for whatever fucking reason which infuriates me to no end cuz like…how the fuck do you come back after getting your ass beat the fuck out by one person when you had someone with you???

I swear if they come back wearing a smirk, I’m eating raw chicken and gorilla brain on the same day.

Fuck these people and fuck anyone who thinks they’re good antagonists. These shitheads gave me a daily migraine during the first volume and I’m so fucking glad they’re not acting like they’re the shit right now.

Look at them running away with their tails between their legs.

THIS IS THE SECOND FUCKING TIME THEY RAN AWAY WTF

If they think they’re royals and can take care of a kingdom, then why the fuck do they run away constantly???

Can you imagine having them as your king and princess? I’d rather die cuz I might as well vanish from the face of the earth if I was a sadida while being aware that these two animals would rule my kingdom.

I bet that the simple inconvenience that could impact the sadida kingdom would make them run away. If that happens, I wanna know what’s Aurora’s excuse this time.

The two people who shouldn’t have interacted so much in the necrome war were Eva and Armand. Eva was able to fight while handling two hyperactive children, and Armand was a fucking king and yet he was fighting on the first line of the battlefield.

Plenty of people, myself included, focused on Aurora leaving during the necrome war but now that I keep thinking about it more, the osamodas king was a bigger deal because he DID NOT have a reason to tell Aurora to run before running first.

If anything, because of the gorilla hanging around in caves and Aurora doing god knows what when Armand used to do his royal job, these two goobers are just royal cosplayers.

Literally. They’re just royal cosplayers.

Gorilla doesn’t do anything besides hanging in caves and Chicken just stands around.

I want you to know how big of a deal this is.

This is serious to think about cuz why the fuck WOULD ANYONE ENTRUST ANYTHING TO THESE CUNTS?????

Anyway, now that we’re done with whatever kind of circus that was, we go back to Yugo and Adamaï trying to balance the poison.

Yugo stop stressing me out with your words.

I know you’re not thinking straight right now and you’re having trouble thinking optimistically in a time like this, but YOU’RE THE SAME PERSON WHO KEEPS SAYING THAT THERE’S ALWAYS A SOLUTION TO EVERYTHING.

You’re gonna be fine AND you’ll find a way to get rid of the poison. You’ve got six Dofus, which can turn any demigod, and mortal, into a god! I’m pretty sure a deadly poison has got nothing on you if you’ve got these artifacts with you.

You’ll be fine (I’m definitely not trying to calm myself down rn)

Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…

The mysterious dragon and the female sadida servant were accomplices all along.

Not gonna lie, I seriously thought the Gorilla and Chicken hired this sadida servant for sharing the same hatred towards Yugo and Amalia, but now that I learned I was wrong, I have to keep reminding myself that the blue-skinned “royals” should not be taken seriously but should be treated like NPCs instead.

What flabbergasted me at this moment, however, was the reveal.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the female sadida servant wasn’t real. Instead, it was just a disguise. The actual culprit was…

Julith.

Freaking Julith.

She had been ordered by the dragon to poison these two which ended up making Yugo drink it alone instead. @onyichii once theorized, back when chapters 7-8 came out, that the female sadida servant in question could have been Julith and they ended up ACTUALLY BEING RIGHT.

Hi daddy 🥰💕 help me instead 🥰🥰

It was Grougalorasalar guys….

I-

I really thought the mysterious dragon in the dream was Draconiros…

Ever since Chapter 1 came out, I went on a legitimate rant/theory explaining why it would make a thousand times more sense that it was Draconiros and not Grougalorasalar.

Last time I checked, both dragons were the best choice for this theory but I was still shocked that it was the black dragon all this time. I was mainly surprised because Grougalorasalar had been part of Ogrest’s chaos when he was fighting Yugo and Dally back in the ovas which would be weird if he was the same dragon who traumatized Yugo in his sleep for unintentionally causing chaos around the world.

Not to mention that he’s smirking here almost like he’s enjoying the sight of Yugo suffering like this. Now yes, he technically hates Yugo so it would make sense to see that he’s enjoying his pain but then why did he tell Julith that they’ll put a traumatized Yugo and a confused Adamaï out of their misery if he’s now saying this? :

“We’ll talk about it later” ???

What do you mean by that?

When the poison didn’t fully do its job due to the six Dofus in his body, didn’t you just come out in the open to kill Yugo once and for all? Why then tell him that “we’ll talk about it later”?

This makes me wonder if there’s more to this poisoning than we’ve been let on.

Because there’s a possibility that since Grougalorasalar noticed the poison hasn’t entirely worked, maybe he’ll try something else or severe the effects of the poison by moving Yugo and Adamaï away from the Sadida kingdom right now.

mom come pick me up

Grougalorasalar is weird. Not in a bad way but not in a good way either.

He’s just weirdly weird? Does that make any sense?

At first, when I read chapter 10 for the first time, I thought Grougalorasalar being the one responsible for the poison wouldn’t have made sense until @kerubimcrepin explained how black dragons tend to be more inclined to cause chaos.

So I guess it would make sense why he’d be perfectly fine prolonging Yugo’s suffering if it meant it could slowly kill him? But then again, we have no idea if the belladone is even deadly enough to kill Yugo because he’s still breathing. The belladone poison should’ve killed him instantly so maybe the poison is only effective enough to severely injure Yugo but nothing more than that.

Man, I hate that it ended on a huge cliffhanger like that cuz how is Yugo supposed to get out of this one and how will they all react when they find out it was Grougalorasalar and Julith who tried poisoning them?

Do people know that Julith was supposed to be dead? Amalia knows her world of twelve history pretty well given her royal education so maybe she learned of Julith’s death in one of her classes teaching her about the Dofus era when she was younger.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Yugo, Adamaï, and Amalia will all be shocked as all hell in the 2nd volume.

My god, I already need it so badly I can’t wait anymore…

I’m scared and I don’t wanna throw up when I see what’s next for them…

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liaromancewriter · 3 months ago

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I Thee Wed…

Premise: Ethan and Cassie are ready to say, ‘I do,’ but they forget one important step.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,560

A/N: So, I first did Ethan and Cassie's wedding in June 2021. In all that time, I've never written their wedding vows. Maxenna's vows were easier to write. Well, I finally cracked this nut! Yay, me 🎉

Submission for @choicesaugustchallenge prompt "summer wedding"

Cassie Valentine updated the patient chart and mentally crossed off another item from her seemingly endless to-do list. In just nine days, she would stand in the garden of her family home and marry her soulmate.

She couldn’t contain a small, excited scream, a dreamy smile spreading across her face as she imagined Ethan’s awestruck expression when she glided toward him at the floral-decked altar. But, she thought with a smirk, she couldn’t wait to knock him over on their wedding night with what she had on beneath the layers of tulle.

All in good time, Cassie reasoned, turning her attention back to work.

“Marlene?” she called to one of the regular nurses on her floor, handing over the tablet with the patient record. “Keep an eye on potassium levels for Mr. Dubois in 504. Page me if there’s any change in his condition.”

“Will do, Dr. Valentine,” Marlene nodded, scanning the chart quickly to confirm the orders.

She flashed Cassie a friendly smile. “Are you excited about the wedding? You and Dr. Ramsey make such a beautiful couple.”

“I’m counting the minutes,” Cassie grinned. “I have a final fitting for the dress next week, but otherwise, we’re all set.”

“Summer weddings are the best,” another nurse piped in. “Flowers are my favorite part.”

“I love hearing the couple’s vows,” Marlene said. “Are you and Dr. Ramsey writing your own?”

Cassie nodded in response, keeping her expression smooth even as alarm bells blared inside her head. Crap, crap, crap!

Between work, packing up her things at the apartment for the move to Ethan’s and coordinating with Sienna and her mom on the wedding, she had forgotten entirely about the vows.

She and Ethan had negotiated a hybrid ceremony, honoring her Episcopalian beliefs and his agnostic ones. He had agreed to have a priest officiate and receive a spiritual blessing in exchange for non-religious but personal vows, no Communion, hymns or readings.

Writing their own vows had sounded so simple before. A few words of promise, a declaration of their love, exchange rings and you-may-kiss-the-bride. End scene.

But now she realized it was anything but easy. Worse, she had no idea what she would say on the most important day of her life!

The pen dug into the paper, leaving dark, jagged lines on the legal pad as Ethan scratched out yet another sentence. His handwriting, usually neat and precise despite the doctor-like scrawl, had turned into a chaotic mess of crossed-out words and half-formed thoughts. Frustration simmered in his chest, his mind spinning as he tried to wrestle his emotions into something coherent.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temple. Sitting through a room full of demanding board members was a walk in the park compared to this. How was he supposed to find the words powerful enough to capture the depth of what he felt for Cassie?

Each attempt felt clumsy and inadequate, the words slipping away from him no matter how hard he tried. Irritated with himself, he muttered a curse under his breath, tearing the paper from the pad and crumpling it into a tight ball. It joined the other pieces of crumpled paper balls scattered around him.

Why had he insisted on their own vows? Should’ve just taken a template and been done with it.

He had been working on them all week and was no closer to the finish line. He had tried writing at home, in his office with the door closed and on a bench in the serenity garden at Edenbrook. Eventually, he retreated to Derry’s Coffee Shop in the hope that a place special to them both would inspire him.

The wedding was a week away, and he did not relish the idea of standing at the altar with nothing more to say than “I do” while Cassie no doubt recited something meaningful about him being her soulmate.

“Tough case?”

Startled, Ethan looked up to find Cassie standing above him.

He had been so absorbed in his frustrated scribbling that he hadn’t even noticed her enter the coffee shop, place her order and walk over to him.

“You could say that,” he hedged, hoping she wouldn’t press for more.

“Maybe I can help,” she suggested, sliding into the seat across from him.

Before he could stop her, she reached for the pad, and he blurted out, “No!” even as she read the words out loud.

“Cassie, my love for you is like an unspecified virus that I couldn’t shake….”

Ethan saw the look of shock on Cassie’s face. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. For a moment, they just stared at each other in stunned silence.

“Wait, are these your wedding vows? And did you just compare me to a virus?”

Ethan quickly tried to recover, realizing how the words sounded when said aloud. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m trying to say is that my love for you is something I never expected, something that took hold of me and changed everything.”

Cassie blinked, and then, to his relief, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Babe, I appreciate the on-brand medical analogy, especially since I diagnosed Naveen’s bacteriophage, but maybe we can find a less…clinical way to describe it? This is our wedding, after all, not a keynote at the AMA annual symposium.”

“A keynote at the AMA would be easier than these damn vows,” Ethan muttered, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

He picked up his coffee and looked at her over the rim. “I suppose you’ve already written a masterpiece?”

To his surprise, Cassie blushed and looked away. “Not exactly. If you must know, I kind of forgot about them.”

She waved one hand dismissively. “Anyway, this isn’t about me. If you’re struggling, just focus on us, our relationship—what makes me the one for you? How you see our life together. Things like that.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “That’s some solid advice.” He reached for his phone, unlocking the screen. “In fact, it’s almost identical to the advice I got from another Valentine just a couple of hours ago. Ah, here it is.” He turned the screen to show her the text from Max.

Cassie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That cheat!” She snatched the phone from Ethan’s hand, scrolling up to check the time stamp. It was from earlier in the day before she’d texted her brother. “He totally copy-pasted his response to me!”

Ethan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Looks like great minds think alike…or at least steal from each other. When did you speak to him?”

Cassie gave him a sheepish look. “Maybe half an hour ago. ”

“Isn’t it the middle of the night where he is?”

She rolled her eyes and made a face. “I know. Max wasn’t thrilled, which is probably why I ended up with recycled advice.”

She straightened in her chair, a hint of frustration in her voice. “I can’t seem to find the right words for our vows. At least you managed to compare me to a virus—I’ve got a completely blank page.”

Ethan chuckled softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand gently. “How about we work on them together? We always did our best work figuring out diagnostic differentials as a team. Why should wedding vows be any different?”

Cassie’s smile widened. “Just promise you won’t tell my mother this is how we wrote our vows, or I’ll have to call you a big, fat liar!”

“Deal.”

Nine days later…

Ethan faced Cassie, a deep contentment settling over him, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. As he held her hands in his, the words that once eluded him now flowed as naturally as breathing.

“Cassie, when I first met you, I had no idea we’d end up here, but from that moment on, you’ve captivated me in ways I never imagined. You’ve challenged me, frustrated me and inspired me to be a better person. And I've fallen in love with you again and again, even though I didn’t believe love or family were in the cards for me. You opened my heart to more. I promise to support and encourage you, embrace the unexpected with you, and always work on being the best version of myself for you. I vow to hold your hand and cherish your heart, loving you always and forever.”

Cassie flashed a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she held Ethan’s gaze, recalling the day they wrote these vows. Her voice was light and playful as she began, making it clear she was savoring every moment.

“Ethan, from the moment you walked into my life—full of arrogance, calling me an amateur—everything changed in ways I never could have predicted. I told you then I was your biggest fan, but that barely scratched the surface of my feelings for you. I can’t imagine a single day without you, and I hope I never do. I promise to stand by your side, to love you fiercely—even when you’re driving me a little crazy—and to choose you every day, no matter what. You are my partner, my soulmate and my greatest adventure. I vow to cherish your heart with all that I am, always and forever.”

And then they lived happily ever after…

------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @liaficreplies @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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alexawynters · 11 months ago

Text

Scarlet Whispers pt. 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Summary: For the most part swap Vision with mutant Y/N whose powers were enhanced by the Mind stone embedded in her forehead courtesy of Hydra. Takes place post Multiverse of Madness, only instead of trying to kill America Chavez, Wanda taught the teen how to control her powers and in doing so, learned how said powers worked herself, becoming able to copy them.

With her newfound powers, Wanda searches the multiverse for her lost spouse and children. She discovers a universe where Y/N exists but she and their sons do not. This aligns with her plans, allowing her to avoid dealing with another version of herself. Using her powers, Wanda intends to make Y/N love her in an attempt to rebuild their family. Whether she does so willingly, or the Scarlet Witch makes her, both are acceptable to Wanda.

Masterlist here

Chapter One

A silent scream escapes your lips as you gasp for breath. Another nightmare. Damn, that's the third one this week, and it's only Monday. Weary, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and head to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It's finals week, and you have an exam in a few hours. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's already 3AM and you groan. Maybe you can manage to get a couple more hours of sleep before the rest of the night slips away.

Lately, for some unknown reason, your troubled mind has been subjecting you to night terrors that make you question your entire reality. These nightmares have been unusually realistic, and you frequently experience more than one per night. At times, you are haunted by so many consecutive nightmares, causing your friends to wonder if you are getting any sleep at all.

The sound of your footsteps padding across the floor is the only thing you hear as you walk from your bedroom to the adjoining bathroom to wash your face. You don't bother turning on the lights since you have a nightlight in the bathroom. You've never been a fan of the pitch black darkness in the bathroom, but the bright overhead lights give you a migraine at the best of times. As a result, your bathroom is mostly covered in shadows, usually just enough for you to do what you need to do and then go back to bed. However, tonight is different. As you accidentally glance up at your reflection, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at you from behind, causing your heart to race.

As you spin around, you raise a fist to defend yourself against the intruder, only to realize that you are alone in your bathroom. You turn back to your mirror and find yourself alone once again. It must have been remnants of the nightmare. In a hurry, you turn on the faucet's cold water tap, run your hands under it, and splash your face. Although hesitant to fully look away from your reflection for fear of the 'intruder' returning, you still want to wipe the sweat from your clammy face.

It was just a bad dream. However realistic, it wasn’t actually real. Shaking it off, you quickly close the bathroom door and head back to bed, intent on getting as much of your remaining night’s sleep as you can before your exam tomorrow. Or rather, later today.

A few hours later, you find yourself in your usual study spot at the university. The library is your safe haven, and it's definitely your favorite place to be. Even if you didn't have to study (which you absolutely did - you were so far behind if you had any hope of graduating with honors, you needed to spend every available moment here), you would often be found here simply reading a book. Your friends and professors are well aware of your voracious appetite for reading, so if anyone ever wonders where to find you, the answer is likely to be here.

Your first exam was in an hour, and you were cramming every last bit of knowledge you could before taking said exam. You needed the highest grade possible. Your future, your escape, depended on it. It could be argued that this desperation was why you initially didn't notice the sound of children's voices reverberating through the library. While the library was usually empty, it was not uncommon for adult students to bring their children with them to study when their own childcare plans fell through. It was inconvenient, but you tried to be considerate and simply tuning it out. Another day, another distraction, and you didn't have time for it.

Eventually, the disruptive sound became impossible to ignore, and despite your desire to not be rude, you needed to focus and get your work done. With more force than strictly necessary, you slammed your book shut, preparing to find a quieter place to study. However, just as you were about to stand up, two twin boys, around ten years old, came running down the library hall, filled with laughter and giggles, heading straight towards you. Your eyes widened as you realized they had no intention of changing their course - they were definitely going to collide with you.

Opening your arms to catch them, and hopefully prevent all of you from careening onto the ground, you found yourself asking “Hey what’s all this? Where’s your mother, you guys?”

The boys looked at you, confused. “What are you talking about, Momma?”

Your eyes turned the size of saucers. “Momma”? That was new. Someone must be playing a trick on you. How ~delightful~ you thought, annoyed. As if you weren’t already stressed out enough, someone had roped in a couple of kids to play a game of fuck around and find out. Well, whomever had put them up to this, when you found them, they were about to find out.

The library's main door swung open, revealing the presence of an incredibly beautiful woman you estimated to be in her mid thirties, with fiery red hair and the most mesmerizing emerald eyes you had ever seen. Her appearance headed straight towards you left you speechless, immediately taking all the wind out of your sails. Oh well, you were always more bark than bite, you supposed. If you thought her looks were stunning, though, they paled in comparison to the melodic sound of her angelic voice.

“Billy, Tommy, come here boys!”

"Mommy!" the twins shouted at the same time before running into her arms. Part of you wanted to scold them for clearly breaking the library's code of conduct, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it when all three of them just looked so happy. You couldn't explain why your heart clenched at the sight of them either, but for some reason, now that the initial surprise had faded, you were soothed by their presence.

You observe their interaction, not wanting to interrupt their intimate moment. Your heart ached at how comfortable the family appeared to be with one another. Once the stunning woman appears reassured about her children’s well-being, she instructs them to go play and shooing them away before redirecting her attention towards you. You feel a pleasant tightening in your chest as her warm gaze focuses on you.

Even though the children have clearly disrupted your valuable study time, you find yourself dismissing it as if it were insignificant. "Oh, it's no problem, I understand how children can be." You don't, you have never had a sibling nor a child of your own, and you have never babysat a day in your life.

"It's just that they missed you so much, darling," she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Huh?”

She takes a step closer, invading your personal space, and begins adjusting your shirt. One of the buttons had come undone at some point, and she seems determined to fix it. Part of you wants to point out that she, a complete stranger, should not be in your personal space, let alone touching your clothing. And what did she mean by saying that her children "missed" you? You didn't know them. You didn't even know her. Warning bells start ringing in your head, as you are pretty sure this is the plot of some horror movie. You should leave. This is not a level of crazy you can deal with right now.

"The boys missed you, Detka. It's been a long time since you've been home, so we decided to come see you!" The woman finally finishes fixing your shirt and looks up at you. Though there is warmth in her expression, there's also a hint of madness, her once green eyes tinged with red.

“I-ah… that’s great, and all but I uhh.. I have an exam coming up, I need to get going.”

“Going?”

The warmth in the woman's voice is gone, replaced by a raspy iciness that sends a chill down your spine.

"My love, the only place you need to go is home, with us, your family."

You turn to face the woman and immediately regret it. Standing before you is no longer the woman in mom jeans and a plaid shirt. Instead, she appears to be dressed in some expensive sorceress cosplay that you estimate would cost thousands of dollars to create or purchase. When... when could she have possibly changed? Just a second ago she was dressed like a normal person, right?

Slowly, you take in the sight of her. Not only has her outfit changed, but her overall appearance as well. Her cheeks hollowed, the sockets of her eyes are sunken as if she hasn't slept in weeks, and her eyes are a glowing crimson. The same shade from your nightmares.

This isn’t real. This is another nightmare. One you need to wake up from.

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” You whisper, as you turn and run.

Unbeknownst to you, the Scarlet Witch allows you to flee. With a flick of her wrist, she could have immobilized you, could have compelled you to accompany her, whether willingly or not, but she chooses not to. The pursuit begins, and she intends to enjoy herself. You will succumb to her, and do so quite prettily. She starts walking down the hallway after you, taking her time. After all, now that she has found you, she has all the time in the world to play with you.

Grace has never been a quality that you possess. In fact, you remember a song your mother made up when you were a child specifically to remind you just how graceless you were. Not that it helps you now, as your brain never finds the appropriate time to recall useless facts. Cursing your ineptitude, you rush out of the library as fast as your legs can carry you.

Moments later, you’re throwing yourself into every door along the hall, however, none of them open. What is wrong with this place? Why is everything locked? You don't remember the university being so fond of locking everything, but then again, you only go to about the same four places. Variety might be the spice of life, but your stomach (anxiety) prefers a milder taste.

As you run, you hear the clicking of the woman's heels, hot on your trail. Or is she really hot on your trail? It sounds as if... you tilt your head, listening. She's walking? You think to yourself that surely you can outrun a woman walking in heels. Surely. (Your asthma would suggest otherwise). Abandoning yet another locked door, you rush further down the hallway. Maybe you don't need to outrun her or find a room to hide in; after all, barricading yourself would only delay the inevitable. Your goal is to reach civilization, to find other people. Speaking of which, where is everyone? Usually, this wing of the university is bustling with activity at this hour.

Exhausted, you pause to catch your breath, hands resting on your knees, hoping that you have managed to buy yourself some time. Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed as her low, raspy voice fills the corridors, humming what sounds like a lullaby in an unfamiliar language. The eerie sound sends chills down your spine, making it painfully clear that luck is not on your side. Where could she be? She is not next to you, nor ahead, yet her voice continues to echo, sounding almost...

Almost the same moment you realize the source of the danger, a hand reaches through the mirror from behind you and grabs your shirt with an unnatural strength. You scream loudly, hoping to alert someone in the building for help, but no one comes to your aid. "What the- LET GO OF ME!" You forcefully pull your shirt from her grip, tearing it in the process, and hastily retreat down the hallway.

To your horror, you see the woman's arm brace against the wall and begin to pull herself out through the mirror. You scramble to your feet, desperate to flee once again, with only one thought repeating in your mind: "What the fuck?!" None of this could be real.

"Y/N," a low voice said in a saccharine tone. "Where do you think you're going? Don't you know that I will always find you? I have crossed thousands of universes to find you, and now that I have you, I will never let you go." In any other context, this would probably be incredibly sweet. Currently however, it only fuels your fear, sending you into a blind panic. You have to escape whatever the hell this is.

Navigating through corridor after corridor you eventually spot one of your classmates at the end, entering the exact exam room you needed to be in that morning. It's a desperate situation, but maybe they can buy you some time while you make your escape through a window or something. It’s not a brave thought, you’re not proud of it, but survival instincts have already kicked in.

You quickly catch up to your classmate, despite initially being so much farther behind, managing to slide into the room just after them. The proctor promptly closes the door behind you. You're breathing heavily, and in your haste, you embarrassingly just slid into the backside of your classmate, with your shirt heavily torn. You must look ridiculous, but unsurprisingly no one questions you about it, your classmate simply looking miffed and whispering an insult as they move out of your personal space. The situation would be comical if you hadn't just been running for your life.

It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

Steadying your breathing, you make your way to the back of the classroom, nearest the window and stare apprehensively at the door. You’re expecting any second now for that woman to come barging in, but she doesn’t, and now here you are ready for your exam. Wow you must really be losing it. Stress induced hallucinations, that has to be it.

Although you were hesitant to simply continue with your day, the world doesn't wait for anyone. Whether you actively participated or not, your proctor would still grade your exam, which your future still depended on. You made an effort to push the hallucination from your mind and concentrate on the information you had retained for the exam, aiming to achieve the highest score possible.

Once you have completed the exam, you hand it in and cautiously enter the hallway. The grades wouldn't be posted until the end of the term, but you were confident enough in your answers to believe that you had earned at least an A. Whether it was an A+ or A- was still uncertain, but you were hoping for the former. So focused were you on your test that you had almost forgotten about the incident earlier that morning. For a moment, you wondered if you should visit the university's nurse. Although she was not an actual doctor, it was a free service, and perhaps she could recommend something. On the other hand, at worst, she would suggest getting more sleep, and at best, she would advise you to see a doctor, which you couldn't afford. Not to mention the argument your parents would start regarding the doctor’s bill (as if they were above opening your mail). Perhaps not.

You had no more exams for the day, so it was time to go home. There were chores to do for your parents, and then you had to study for tomorrow's exam. If you were lucky, you could finish everything early and get a few extra hours of sleep, hopefully avoiding another hallucination like today. Rubbing the exhaustion from your face, you head towards the bus stop. It was early enough that the bus should arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and you would be home in about an hour. Everything was going according to plan. Tomorrow was going to be a great day, you just had a feeling.

Once on the bus, your exhaustion started to overwhelm you, your headphones doing little to drown out the ambient noise. Before long, you were fast asleep. Even if you were awake, you probably wouldn't have noticed the viridian eyes in the reflection of the bus window watching over you. Unlike before, these eyes didn't appear to be of malicious intent. If anything, they seemed to observe you with care and empathy. If the volume of your headphones spontaneously happened to outweigh that of the alarm you had set for yourself to awaken you for your stop, that was just a coincidence.

A/N 2: sorry but the writers of the M.o.M. butchered her character just to have her shoehorned into a villain role so Strange would have an adversary already established in the MCU as a powerful magic user - I'm still salty about it. However Ms. Olsen's performance was phenomenal. Anyway lmk if this is absolutely trash or if you wanna maybe read more? I have a couple of chapters pre-written but not the entire thing.

Many thanks to my editors @flowers-shouldnt-die, and Brooke for helping me through this and providing valuable feedback! Especially @flowers-shouldnt-die for her assistance with translations in helping me learn both Hungarian and Russian for this. Wouldn't have made it this far in the story without you :3

#Wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda x fem!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!scarlet witch #dark!wanda x reader #wanda x reader

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starogeorgina · 1 year ago

Text

Violent delights

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.04

Your mother stares at her eldest son with admiration; she respected him for his proposal to protect his family, but she could sense your hesitation. “Jacaerys...,” she sighs, “my kindhearted boy, that is the most honorable of proposals, but—”

“A genius idea,” Daemon states, cutting your mother off before she can continue. “Aemma will be a Velaryon, thus protected from the greens.”

A heaviness builds in your chest as you listen to your mother and Daemon discuss the political benefits that would come from you marrying Jacaerys. Watching your mother cradle her growing bump highlighted the disadvantages. You’d never be able to give him a male heir or possibly any children of his own.

“I’m not suggesting this as a political arrangement,” Jace states. Your mother's eyes widen at her son’s words, and she looks up at Daemon, who’s grinning. He didn’t seem surprised by your brother's idea. “You're proof that marrying for love works.” Jace looks over to you, his dark eyes full of fear. “Lyarra?”

Struggling to find your voice, you look between the three of them, knowing that none of them wants to hear what you have to say. You loved your older brother far too much to let him marry you for the sake of honor; he deserves better. Tears start to build behind your eyes at the same time Aemma begins to scream, “I need to tend to Aemma; excuse me.”

You practically run out of the room, not looking back as your name is called.

The moment the door to your bedchamber is closed, you begin to sob, your stream of tears matching your daughters. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you say, softly kissing the side of her head. “It will all be okay, I promise.”

Reluctantly, you call for a wet nurse; not being able to feed Aemma yourself plagues you with guilt. When the wet nurse arrived, you handed Aemma to her and excused yourself. You go and stand on a small balcony just off your room, watching the waves crash below, not caring about your skin and clothes getting soaked.

You close your eyes, hearing footsteps closing in from behind. You just needed a few more seconds to clear your head before you were no doubt ambushed about how rude you were to leave so abruptly, but to your surprise, nobody speaks. You can feel their body heat rubbing off on you when a large cloak is draped over your shoulders, then the hood is pulled down to cover your face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You open your eyes and look into the bloodshot eyes of your brothers; it hurts to see him looking so hurt by your own actions. “You didn’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run off like that, but I was just so overwhelmed.”

“Please don’t apologize or explain; it’s my fault. I put you on the spot, which I shouldn’t have done; I should have asked you privately.”

You cup the side of his face and say, “My sweet Jacaerys. I know you want to do everything you can to protect Aemma, and I am wholeheartedly thankful for that.”

He stares at you in disbelief. “You really think that’s the only reason I proposed marriage? Lyarra I was heartbroken when you married Aegon. And not just because he is cruel and vulgar, but because I’d be losing you forever. I’ve loved you since I was a boy, and I don’t ever imagine the day that I don’t. But I will not force you into another marriage.”

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his. Warm tears spill down your cheeks. You pull back from the kiss, rest your forehead against his, and chuckle softly. “I used to dream of marrying you when I was younger. How happy our grandsire would be, what we would name our children... but I stopped believing it was ever possible when Alicent declared I was a match made for Aegon.”

“If this is something we both want, then nothing is standing in our way.”

The sky above you had turned black as the winds picked up and the rainfall became much heavier. It was so dark that you could hardly see Jace standing in front of you, sighing and shaking your head. “I may never be able to give you an heir... After everything that Aegon put me through, the idea of ever laying with a man again... I just don’t know if I can do it. I’m sorry.”

“I will never force you to do something that you don’t want too. All I want is to keep you safe; as for an heir, we already have Aemma.”

Your eyes brim with tears, but this time it’s from happiness. “You mean it? Even though she is no-t”

“Aemma is my blood; I would risk my life protecting her regardless of what happens between us,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I promise you I will love her as my own, the same way Daemon has loved us.”

You kiss him again, but this time it is significantly more tender and sweet. “We should inform them of our decision,” you laugh, “assuming, of course, the proposal is still an option.”

He kisses you on the cheek before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and ushering you inside. You feel as if you are floating as your head spins with everything happening so fast. You just prayed to the gods that this wasn’t a dream you could ever wake up from.

𝘏𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘳 / 𝘝𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪 𝘷ã𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢 / 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘰

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘪 / 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢 𝘪ā𝘳𝘻𝘢 𝘴ì𝘳 / 𝘐𝘻𝘶𝘭𝘪 𝘢𝘮𝘱ã 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘪 /

𝘗𝘳ü𝘮𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘴ē𝘵𝘦𝘬𝘴𝘪 / 𝘏𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘺 𝘮ä𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘯 / 𝘘𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘢

𝘰𝘻û𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪 / 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘰ñ𝘰 𝘫ê𝘥𝘰 / 𝘙ÿ 𝘬𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘴𝘪

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘸𝘰 / 𝘑𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 / 𝘈𝘯𝘥

𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 / 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 / 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 / 𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 / 𝘛𝘩𝘦

𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 / 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 / 𝘖𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

“Fuck!”

Hearing Jace moan loudly in pleasure caused you to speed up your actions. You were eager to give him the relief he desperately sought. Usually you would enjoy teasing him, but since you rarely got alone time together, you needed to be quick.

“Lyarra, please,” he begs. “Please don’t stop.”

You pumped his member into your hand while Jace continued to lick and suck at your breast. He had seen your body change many times over the past few years, but his lust for you hadn’t changed. It was only seconds after the door to your bedchamber closed that he had you pinned up against the wall, his lips clashing against your own. Craving to touch him, you didn’t bother attempting to undress Jace; you pushed your hand into his waistband and took hold of his already hard cock. At the same time, Jace bit and sucked at your neck before pulling the top of your dress down so he could have better access to your heavy chest.

With a knock at the door, you and Jace jump apart; he quickly shoves himself back into his trousers while you pull the top of your dress back up. Unsure what to expect, you shared a look of concern with him; you’d explicitly asked to be left alone and only interrupted if it was important. You smooth your dress down nervously before opening the door to face one of your mother's handmaids.

She bows, “Forgive the intrusion; Princess Rhaenyra has urgently requested both your presence.”

Jacaerys thanks her before taking your hand, and quickly you head in the direction of the chambers your mother was in. Silently, you prayed it wasn’t anything too serious. Both you and your mother were pregnant again and stressful situations was the last thing you needed.

—

“Absolutely not!” Your husband clenches his fists and says, “You cannot go to King's Landing. I will not have you relive the hell you went through.”

You glance at your daughter, who happily snuggles into what looks like an old rag, holding it close to her face as she sleeps in your bed, unfazed by her father's loud voice. Jacaerys has always been hot-tempered but usually manages to maintain his composure; however, he was being pushed to the edge. His brown eyes are full of guilt and shame when he looks down at his daughter.

Lord Corlys' eldest nephew, Vaemond, insisted he should be Corlys' chosen successor, claiming your three eldest brothers were bastards and your mother was guilty of committing adultery. To keep Lucerys as the rightful heir of Driftmark, your family would need to travel to the keep and fight for his claim.

“We will be fine, my love, Alicent-”

“She is cruel; she will do anything she can to further the claim that me, Luke, and Joffrey are bastards,” he says quietly. “I will do anything to protect our brother, but I’m not putting you at risk at the same time.”

You could tell he was holding something back as he pulled on the threads of the soft gray fur hanging on the bottom of the bed. “Things will be different this time; I won’t be alone.”

“What if Aegon sees Aemma and…”

“And?” You cup his face gently and say, “You’re her father, Jace. You’re the one who raised her, and she loves you as her father. No matter what anyone says, that will never change.” You could see the doubt in his eyes. “They wouldn’t dare say or do anything to our sweet little girl; otherwise, they would have the whole of house Velaryon to deal with. Not to mention Daemon; he would bring fire and blood if they ever hurt his children or grandchildren.”

“I suppose you are right.” Looking defeated, he sits on the chair by the foot of the bed and sighs, “If my legitimacy is put into question, then so is our children’s.”

The gods had been kind since your marriage to Jacaerys, blessing you with both healthy male and female heirs. After a year of marriage, you finally felt ready to lay with your husband, and not long after, your second daughter was born. You named her Rhaenys after your grandmother on your father's side. Less than two years later, you give birth to twin sons, Avery and Aethan. All of them shared your Targaryen features; however, you secretly hoped the next one looked like Jace. “Then we will remind them that we are part Targaryen, and the blood of the dragon runs thick through our veins and our children’s. We need to do this; we need to go and show a united front for our family. For Lucerys. I will not allow the greens to treat him the same way they treated me.”

“Your bravery never fails to amaze me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand. For the first few months of your second pregnancy, Jacaerys often found you kneeling, eyes closed, hands pressed together, while you prayed for your babe to be healthy. It was then that he truly understood how terrifying living in the keep and going through each pregnancy alone must have been. Ever since he took every opportunity to remind you of that, He lets out a soft chuckle. “Do you think our dragons will be restless without us near?”

“We shall bring them with us. I will fly on Viserion and you on Vermax to the keep; our children can either fly with us or go in the carriage with our mother and Daemon.”

A little more content Jacaerys nods in agreement before he starts to get ready for bed. You force a smile, afraid to admit how truly scared you are to return to the keep.

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