#like a night mare laying on your chest

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

mmmmph

[theonottsbxtch]

Hiii I have a request for you. Can I pls have a princess!reader x Max Verstappen. Something happened (maybe like too much royal duties) and she had to get away for a bit. And she ran across Max and they ended up hanging out together. And then he made her feel normal so she kept sneaking out to see him.

Maybe you can make it a little angsty with a HEA pls.

Ps, I love your writing! Can I be 🐴 anon?

THE PRINCESS AND THE DRIVER PT1 | MV1

an: thank you for this request and yes of course you can be 🐴 anon! i'm having way too much fun writing this and i've yapped my buttocks off, i'm already at 14k words so i'm going to split this into a few parts and i hope you enjoy it! <3

wc: 6.4K

The Princess had spent the evening pretending everything was fine. She’d smiled through the formal dinner, nodded politely at endless conversations, and held herself with the grace expected of her. But as the night wore on, the weight of it all pressed down on her chest like a tight corset, squeezing the air from her lungs. Every curtsy, every forced laugh, had added another layer to the suffocation.

By the time the palace halls had grown quiet, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She needed to get out—away from the golden chandeliers, the careful whispers, and the constant eyes that watched her every move. It felt like she was drowning in expectations, and the only way to breathe was to leave, even if just for a few hours.

The stables were her refuge. She’d discovered that long ago, as a child, when the pressures of the court were less heavy but still present, lurking in the background. Now, as she slipped into the stables’ cool shadows, she felt her heartbeat slow just a little, her muscles loosening in the familiar surroundings. The smell of hay and horses grounded her, bringing her a small sense of peace.

She walked softly, the thick, polished soles of her boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. The horses stirred as she passed, their gentle snorts and soft whinnies acknowledging her presence but not alarmed. She stopped for a moment by her favourite, Orla, a chestnut mare who nudged her shoulder affectionately. She stroked the mare’s mane, whispering a quiet apology for not taking her out tonight. Orla would understand; this wasn’t a night for riding.

Moving to the back corner of the stable, she crouched down and brushed away the loose straw to reveal a wooden panel in the wall. With a soft grunt, she pried it loose, the way she had done so many times before. This was her secret—a gap that led to the fields beyond the palace grounds. Not even her personal guards knew about it. She had discovered it as a young girl, slipping through the hole in search of adventure when the confines of the palace walls grew too small.

Now, that same urge pulled her through the narrow opening, but it wasn’t adventure she sought—it was escape. The cold air hit her face as she emerged on the other side, the smell of grass and earth filling her lungs. For the first time all night, she felt like she could breathe.

The field stretched out in front of her, wide and dark under the night sky. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow on the tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze. She pulled her hood over her head, hiding her most definitely recognisable hair, and stepped forward. The ground was uneven beneath her feet, the soft squelch of mud and grass a welcome contrast to the polished marble floors of the palace.

As she walked, the palace grew smaller behind her, its golden lights dimming until it was just a distant glow on the horizon. She paused for a moment, turning back to look at it—a fortress of expectations and responsibilities. It felt strange to see it from here, like it was part of someone else’s life. Someone who wasn’t her.

Turning away, she continued across the field, when she saw it. A karting track lay just beyond the hill, the faint hum of engines already audible in the distance. She had heard the sounds many times before while sneaking out but had never been, the laughter and cheers carried on the wind, but had never dared to go closer. Tonight, though, something was different. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the desire to feel something other than the heavy weight of duty. She wasn’t sure. But tonight, she would go. She would see what it was like to be just... normal.

The lights of the track grew brighter as she crested the hill. From here, she could see the racers whizzing by in small go-karts, their faces blurred by speed and excitement. A group of people stood by the sidelines, watching, some laughing, some leaning against the fence with drinks in hand. It was a world apart from hers, and yet it called to her.

She lingered at the edge of the track, keeping her hood pulled low as she observed. No one paid her any attention, and that in itself was a relief. She wasn’t a princess here. She was just another person, another face in the crowd. The knot in her chest loosened slightly, the familiar ache of expectation easing.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice someone approaching until a voice broke through the hum of engines.

“First time?”

Startled, she turned to see a man standing beside her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He had a relaxed posture, his expression open and friendly, like talking to a stranger was the most natural thing in the world, but he too had a hoodie fully covering his face. His eyes were bright, but not with recognition. There was no flicker of surprise, no hint that he knew who she was. Just casual curiosity.

“Uh… yeah,” she replied, her voice hesitant. She tugged her hood a little lower, instinctively trying to hide.

The guy turned around and she could see his face properly, he was gorgeous as he smiled at her, a lopsided grin that was both easygoing and warm. “It’s fun,” he said, nodding towards the track. “You should try it.”

“I’m not really dressed for it,” She said, glancing down at her boots. They were sturdy but far from practical for something like this.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Doesn’t matter. Half the people out there don’t know what they’re doing either. It’s just for fun.” He paused, then added, “I’m Max, by the way.”

His name hung in the air for a moment, simple and unassuming. He didn’t ask for hers, didn’t press. It felt strange—refreshing, even. No titles, no formalities. Just... Max.

She hesitated, glancing at the track. The racers zoomed by, their shouts of excitement echoing in the cool night air. For a moment, she could almost imagine what it would feel like—no duties, no one watching, just speed and laughter. It was tempting. More tempting than she wanted to admit.

“I don’t know...” she started, but her words trailed off as Max leaned casually against the fence beside her, his posture easy and unbothered.

“No pressure,” he said, with a shrug that was so natural it almost made her laugh. “You can just watch if you want. But trust me, once you try it, you won’t want to stop.”

She looked at him, studying the relaxed set of his shoulders, the comfortable way he seemed to fit into this world. He didn’t have that tight, rigid way of standing that she saw in the palace—where everyone was always conscious of how they looked, of what others thought of them. Max was... easy. Uncomplicated.

It was such a stark contrast to the world she’d just left behind.

“Is it always like this?” she asked, her voice softer now, more curious than hesitant.

Max turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Just... fun.” She felt a little silly asking, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “Depends on who you ask. Some people get real competitive out here, but for most of us? Yeah, it’s just a way to blow off steam. No big deal.” He glanced at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes now, though still no recognition. “You from around here? Never seen you at the track before.”

Her heart skipped a beat. For a second, she almost blurted out the truth, but the words caught in her throat. No, I’m not from here felt too close to I’m the princess of this country, and she wasn’t ready to give up her anonymity yet. Not here. Not when it felt so good to be invisible.

“I don’t get out much,” she said, keeping her answer vague. It wasn’t technically a lie.

“Figured,” Max said with a teasing grin. “You’ve got that ‘I’m-too-good-for-this-place’ look about you.”

She blinked, then laughed, the sound surprising even to her. It wasn’t the forced, polite laughter she had perfected for royal gatherings. This was real—spontaneous, like the feeling of breaking the surface after holding your breath for too long.

Max grinned wider at her reaction. “See? Already starting to loosen up.”

She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling. She liked this—liked how easy it was to talk to him, how he had no idea who she was and didn’t seem to care. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could just... be.

“I guess I could give it a try,” she said after a moment, surprising herself with her own words.

Max’s eyes lit up. “That’s the spirit! Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

He led her towards the pit area, where a few go-karts sat idle, waiting for the next round. Her pulse quickened as they approached. The karts looked small, but the thought of actually getting in one and racing felt exhilarating—and a little terrifying. She had never done anything like this before. Her life was too controlled, too polished. But here, surrounded by the hum of engines and the laughter of people who didn’t care about titles or status, it was easy to forget all that.

Max handed her a helmet. “Here, put this on. And don’t worry—everyone’s a little nervous their first time. Once you get going, it’s a blast.”

She took the helmet, her fingers brushing against the cool surface. For a moment, she hesitated, the weight of her real life lingering at the back of her mind. But then she thought of the palace, of the endless duties and expectations that would be waiting for her when she returned. Tonight, she didn’t want to be a Princess. She wanted to be someone else. Even if it was just for a little while.

Slipping the helmet on, she pulled the strap tight and climbed into the kart. It felt strange, sitting so low to the ground, the engine rumbling beneath her like a living thing. Max knelt beside her, adjusting a few straps and showing her the pedals. His voice was calm, instructive, and for the first time in a long while, someone was teaching her something without being stiff or overly formal. She liked it.

“Alright,” Max said, standing up and giving her a thumbs up. “You’re all set. Just take it easy on the first lap—get used to the feel of it. After that, let loose.”

She nodded, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Her heart pounded in her chest as the flag waved and the others sped off, leaving her sitting still for a beat longer. But then she pressed down on the gas pedal, and the kart jerked forward, the wind rushing past her face.

At first, she was cautious, her fingers gripping the wheel tightly as the kart bumped along the track. But as she rounded the first corner and the engine roared, a spark lit inside her. The fear melted away, replaced by a thrill she hadn’t expected. The sensation of speed, of being in control of something that moved so fast—it was intoxicating.

She leaned into the next turn, feeling the kart glide smoothly along the curve, the tension in her shoulders easing. The wind whipped against her face, but she didn’t care. She laughed—loud and unrestrained, the sound swallowed by the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so free, so... alive.

Max was right. Once you started, it was hard to stop.

When she finally pulled back into the pit area, her heart was still racing, her breath coming in quick bursts. Max was waiting for her, his grin wide and approving.

“Well?” he asked, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the fence. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

She took off her helmet, her hair wild and her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t care. “That was... amazing,” she admitted, unable to stop smiling.

“See?” Max said, laughing. “Told you.”

For a moment, standing there with the wind still rushing through her hair and her body buzzing from the ride, she forgot who she was. She wasn’t the princess here. She wasn’t responsible for the weight of an entire country. She was just a girl, laughing at a racetrack with a guy who didn’t know her, and it felt... perfect.

She leaned against the kart for a moment, still catching her breath. Her pulse was racing, and not just from the speed. She couldn’t shake the pure, unfiltered exhilaration that had coursed through her veins. The feeling of freedom, of shedding the weight of expectations, even if only for a short time, was unlike anything she had felt in years.

Max was watching her with a casual smile, clearly amused by the joy lighting up her face. She caught her breath, realising how utterly at ease he seemed, as though this was his world and everyone else was just passing through it.

“Not bad, right?” he said, his voice still warm and relaxed.

“Not bad?” she laughed softly, shaking her head. “That was... incredible. I didn’t know something so simple could feel that good.”

“Simple?” Max grinned, looking genuinely entertained. “You’ve never been karting before, huh?”

She shook her head, wiping a loose strand of hair from her face. “No. Never.”

He leaned closer, his expression still friendly but with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “You really don’t get out much, do you?”

The question was casual, but it hit closer to home than she cared to admit. She shrugged it off, pulling her hood back over her head, as though it would somehow shield her from further questions.

“I guess not,” she said, her voice softer now.

Max nodded, seeming to accept that without prying. “Well, if you liked that, you’d probably love a real race. You ever watch Formula One?”

The mention of Formula One caught her off guard, and she shook her head. “No... not really my thing.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Really? You don’t even know any of the drivers?”

She could only smile awkwardly, realising that she had no idea how big of a deal Formula One was, let alone the names involved in it. “Nope. Can’t say I do.”

Max let out a soft laugh, as though the idea of someone not knowing about Formula One was a little unbelievable, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he smiled again, more to himself this time, and shrugged. “That’s refreshing, actually. You’re not missing much, anyway,” he added with a wink, making it sound like an inside joke she didn’t quite understand.

Just as she was about to respond, the faint chime of a clock echoed in the distance. It was so far away, nearly drowned out by the hum of engines, but it pierced through her, pulling her back to reality. She froze for a moment, the fun of the evening abruptly replaced by the realisation of what time it was.

“Oh no,” she muttered, standing up straight and glancing toward the palace grounds, hidden behind the field and trees.

“What?” Max asked, his brow furrowed.

She gave him a tight smile. “I should probably go. It’s... getting late.” She didn’t want to leave. Not yet. But she knew she had to.

Max studied her for a moment, his playful grin fading into something softer. “You sure? I can walk you back if you want.”

The offer was kind, but the last thing she needed was Max seeing the palace guards and connecting the dots. She could only imagine how complicated things would get if he found out who she really was. She shook her head quickly, hoping her refusal didn’t seem rude.

“No, thank you. I’m fine. Really.”

Max didn’t press, though something in his eyes told her he was still curious. “Alright,” he said with a small nod. “But hey, I’m gonna be in town for the next two weeks, so if you feel like sneaking out again, I’ll be here. Same time, same place.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. The idea of doing this again—of stepping back into this world where no one knew her, where she could just be—was more tempting than it should have been. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice soft but genuine.

She turned to leave, feeling the cool night air brush against her skin, but something made her glance back. Max was watching her, leaning casually against the kart with that easy smile, as though none of this was out of the ordinary. It was strange how comfortable she felt with him—a stranger—and how much she didn’t want to go.

“See you around, stranger,” Max called after her, his tone playful but sincere.

She gave him one last wave before heading back across the field, the lights of the track slowly fading behind her. The palace loomed ahead, a reminder of everything she had to return to—her responsibilities, her duties, her carefully controlled life. But even as she slipped through the hidden passage in the stables, the thrill of the night lingered, like a secret she carried with her.

Once inside the palace walls, she moved quickly, keeping to the shadows. Her heart was still racing, but now it was from the fear of getting caught. She slipped back into her room unnoticed, quietly closing the heavy door behind her. For a moment, she stood there in the silence, the warmth and grandeur of her surroundings feeling strangely suffocating after the openness of the track.

Kicking off her boots, she padded to the window, pulling aside the heavy velvet curtain to look out over the darkened palace grounds. The karting track wasn’t visible from here, but she could still imagine it, hear the hum of the engines, and feel the wind on her face. She hadn’t felt so alive in years.

As she changed into her pyjamas and prepared for bed, her mind kept drifting back to Max. The way he had spoken to her so easily, without hesitation, without any of the reverence or caution people usually showed her. It felt like they were equals. No expectations, no carefully chosen words. He had no idea who she was. And she hadn’t known him, either.

The following evening, she sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. Her hair was pinned perfectly, her skin glowing under the soft light of the chandelier. But all she could think about was the wind in her hair, the roar of engines, and the unfamiliar freedom she had tasted the night before.

She was expected at dinner in an hour, a formal affair with visiting dignitaries—yet another night of forced smiles, stifling conversations, and the suffocating weight of being a Princess. The thought of sitting through it made her chest tighten with the same anxiety she’d felt the previous night. She couldn’t do it, not tonight.

Her heart raced as she made her decision. She needed to feel that freedom again.

Standing up, she walked toward her door and opened it just enough to see the palace corridors beyond. Quiet. Perfect. She padded down the hallway to her parents’ private chamber and knocked softly.

Her mother’s voice answered from inside, “Come in.”

She entered, finding her mother seated at a desk, reviewing documents. The Queen looked up with a warm but distracted smile.

“Hello darling. Ready for dinner?”

She hesitated for just a second, but her face betrayed nothing. “Actually, Mother,” she said softly, “I’m not feeling well. I think I might be coming down with something.”

Concern flickered across her mother’s features. “Oh no, my dear. Is it serious? Should I send for the royal physician?”

She quickly shook her head, her heart pounding as she forced a smile. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I think I just need to rest. A quiet evening in my room should help.” She tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping her mother wouldn’t press further.

The Queen studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. Take care of yourself, darling. You can join us tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promised, relieved that it had been so easy. She gave her mother a small smile before excusing herself from the room, and the moment the door was closed, her heart began to race for an entirely different reason.

She wasn’t going to her room. She was going back to the track.

Less than fifteen minutes later, she was once again slipping through the hidden gap in the stable wall, her pulse quickening with every step she took away from the palace. The familiar field stretched out before her, bathed in moonlight, and the sound of distant engines filled the air as she drew closer to the track.

A thrill surged through her. She hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation in so long—years, maybe. As she crested the hill, the track came into view, the floodlights illuminating the karts zooming around the circuit. Laughter and shouts echoed in the night, and there, standing by the fence again, was Max.

He hadn’t seen her yet, but something about the sight of him—so at ease, so comfortable in this world—made her heart race. For a moment, she stood still, wondering if this was a terrible idea. But then Max turned his head and spotted her. His face lit up immediately, and before she could second-guess herself, he was walking toward her.

“You came back,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth and a hint of surprise.

Before she could respond, Max pulled her into a quick, unexpected hug. It caught her off guard, but the gesture was so natural, so friendly, that she relaxed into it. It wasn’t formal or calculated like the stiff embraces she was used to. It was warm, real, and surprisingly grounding.

“I’m glad you came,” Max said as he pulled back, his smile still wide. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

She smiled, a little breathless from his easy affection. “I wasn’t sure either,” she admitted, though a part of her had known she would return the moment she’d left the night before.

Max gave a playful shake of his head, as if amused by her uncertainty. “Well, you’re here now, so I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?” She blinked, confused.

Without a word, Max walked over to a nearby bench where his gear was piled, rummaging through the bag until he pulled out a sleek black helmet. It gleamed under the track lights, the design simple but stylish. He turned and handed it to her, a grin tugging at his lips.

“For next time,” he said. “Consider it a welcome-back gift.”

She stared at the helmet, her fingers brushing over its surface. It felt substantial in her hands, the weight of it unexpected. “This is... for me?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, his expression softening. “I thought you might like your own, since it seems like you’re gonna be coming back more often.” He paused, glancing at her. “Unless you’re planning to disappear?”

She felt warmth rise in her chest. The idea that Max had thought about her after last night—enough to get her a gift—was strangely touching. She didn’t know what to say at first, only that her heart was doing a strange, excited dance in her chest.

“No disappearing,” she said with a small smile. “At least, not yet.”

Max’s grin widened. “Good. Because I think you’re a natural at this. You belong out here.”

The words struck something deep inside her. Belong. She wasn’t sure where she belonged anymore, but for the first time, standing here with Max, holding a helmet meant just for her, she felt a flicker of that feeling—like maybe she did belong somewhere outside the palace walls.

She turned the helmet over in her hands, then looked up at him. “Thank you. Really.”

Max shrugged, the gesture so casual it made her smile. “It’s just a helmet. But hey, now you’ll have no excuse to not race me next time.”

The princess laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’d have a pretty big advantage.”

Max winked. “Maybe. But who knows, you might surprise me.”

They stood there for a moment, the sound of engines and laughter filling the space between them. She clutched the helmet a little tighter, feeling the pull to stay here with him, to keep being this version of herself. But she knew she couldn’t stay long—not tonight. There would be questions if anyone realised she hadn’t been in her room all evening.

She stared at the helmet in her hands, her fingers tracing the smooth curve of the visor. Something about the gesture—Max giving her something that was entirely hers, something from this world—made her feel bolder than before. Maybe it was the way he had smiled at her, or the fact that she didn’t have to be anyone other than herself around him. Whatever it was, a playful spark ignited inside her.

She looked up at Max, who was watching her with that easy grin, clearly amused by the way she was studying the helmet. Without thinking too much about it, she raised her chin and asked, “How about that race, then?”

Max blinked, surprised, then his grin widened. “You serious?”

She shrugged, her smile growing. “Why not? You said I’m a natural, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean that natural,” he said, laughing softly. “You sure you’re ready to take me on?”

The challenge in his voice only fueled her. She had tasted the thrill of the track last night, and now, with the helmet in her hands, the idea of racing Max—even if she was far from a professional—was too tempting to resist.

“I’m sure,” she said firmly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Unless you’re scared you’ll lose.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, princess,” he teased, the nickname rolling off his tongue in a playful, light-hearted way that made her grin. He didn’t know how close to the truth that was. And while it would usually make her panic, it was clear he didn’t know who she was. “Let’s do it.”

She felt a rush of adrenaline as she followed him over to the karts. Max helped her adjust the helmet and get settled in the driver’s seat. The moment she gripped the steering wheel, that same electric thrill from last night returned, only now, it was heightened by the fact that she was about to race him.

Max hopped into his kart, giving her a wink from across the track. “Alright,” he called, his voice muffled by his own helmet, “just remember, it’s all about control, not speed. Don’t push it too hard.”

She nodded, her heart pounding as the engines roared to life around them. The buzz of excitement in the air was contagious, and she found herself gripping the wheel tighter, anticipation humming through her veins.

“Ready?” Max shouted over the noise.

“Ready!” she called back, her voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

With a sharp rev of the engine, they were off.

The first few moments were a blur of motion and sound. She felt the kart lurch forward, the wind whipping against her as she sped down the track. Her nerves spiked, but she quickly remembered Max’s words—control, not speed. She focused on keeping steady, her hands firm on the wheel as she navigated the turns.

Max was ahead, of course, but she could see him glancing over his shoulder, slowing down just enough to let her keep pace. She knew he was going easy on her, but she didn’t mind. The thrill of racing him—of racing anyone—was more than enough to make her feel like she was flying.

The world around her blurred into a mix of bright lights and the roar of engines. For the second time in her life, she wasn’t thinking about the palace, her duties, or the expectations that constantly weighed her down. It was just her, the kart, the track, and the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins.

Max pulled ahead slightly as they rounded a sharp corner, but she was right behind him, her competitive spirit kicking in. She leaned into the turn, feeling the kart respond beneath her, and for a brief moment, she let herself push just a little harder.

She caught up with him, and when he looked back, his eyes met hers through their visors. There was a flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or pride. He grinned, then slowed again, letting her pass him just before they hit the final straightaway.

She laughed, the sound muffled by her helmet but still filled with pure, unfiltered joy. She knew he was letting her win, but the thrill of it was real, and she couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride as she crossed the makeshift finish line.

She slowed to a stop, pulling off the steering wheel as she’d seen Max do, her laughter bubbled over. Max pulled up beside her, his own helmet off, his face lit up with a grin.

“Well, look at you,” he said, hopping out of his kart and walking over to her. “You actually made me work for it.”

She climbed out, still catching her breath, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You’re lying. You let me win.”

Max shrugged, clearly not about to deny it. “Maybe I did,” he said, smirking. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you were pretty good out there.”

She beamed at the compliment, still riding the high of the race. “That was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Max leaned back against the fence, watching her with an easy smile. “Yeah, it’s a rush. You looked like you were having the time of your life.”

“I was,” she admitted, her voice softer now. She hadn’t felt this free, this alive, in... well, she couldn’t even remember. “I really was.”

Max’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes studying her for a moment, as if he could sense there was more beneath her words. But he didn’t push. Instead, he smiled and got close to her, pulling up her visor so he could see her eyes better.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“We’ll see.” He winked, leaning back on the kart again, clearly in no rush to leave. “So, you coming back tomorrow?”

Her heart skipped at the idea. “Maybe,” she said, feeling the tug of responsibility from the palace, but also the undeniable pull to return here—to this track, to Max, and to the freedom she had only just started to discover.

“I’ll be here,” Max said, giving her that same playful smile as the night before. “Same time, same place.”

She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years. “I’ll think about it.”

As they stood there, the night air cool against her skin, she felt something shift inside her. For the first time in a long time, she had something to look forward to—something that wasn’t bound by duty or expectation. She had this—this world, this track, this chance to be someone else, even if just for a little while.

And as she walked away, the helmet tucked under her arm, she knew she’d be back. How could she not?

Her pulse was still racing as she slipped through the gap in the stable wall, her heart light with the thrill of the night’s race. The cold night air stung her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t felt this alive in years—her mind still buzzing with the memory of the wind whipping past her as she sped around the track, Max’s teasing grin as he let her take the lead, and the helmet now tucked securely under her arm.

She quietly crossed the stable yard, the moon casting long shadows over the cobblestones. The palace was still, its lights dimmed, as if it, too, was resting from its heavy burdens. She let out a breath of relief, thinking she’d made it back undetected.

But as she rounded the last corner towards the servant’s door leading into the palace, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

She froze, her heart plummeting to her stomach.

“Princess,” came a low voice, steady and unmistakable.

Her personal guard, Lukas, stood there with his arms crossed, his expression stern but not angry. The tall man’s silhouette was familiar—broad-shouldered, dressed in his midnight-blue uniform, with the polished silver crest of the royal family gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He had been her personal protector for years, and though he had always been professional, there was a softer side to Lukas that she had come to trust.

She swallowed hard, her mind racing for an excuse. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone, much less Lukas. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words stuck in her throat.

Lukas stepped forward, his sharp gaze landing on the helmet tucked under her arm. His brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, she feared he might drag her straight to the King and Queen.

Instead, he sighed, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Out racing, were we?” His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the disapproval in his tone.

She winced, shifting uncomfortably. “I... I just needed to get out for a while,” she admitted, her voice small, but she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips. Even now, standing in front of Lukas, knowing she was about to get a lecture, she couldn’t help but feel a lingering joy from the night.

Lukas’s sharp eyes softened as he took in her expression—the light in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. He sighed again, longer this time, and his shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Your Highness,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. Then he looked back at her, his tone a little gentler. “You can’t keep sneaking out like this. It’s dangerous. If the King or Queen found out...”

She bit her lip, feeling the weight of his words, but the exhilaration of the night was still thrumming beneath her skin. “I know, Lukas,” she said softly, her smile faltering for the first time. “But... just for a little while, I needed to be something other than...” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, but Lukas understood.

“Other than the princess,” he finished for her, his tone quieter now.

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the helmet in her arms. “I just... It felt so good. No one recognised me. No expectations. I was just... me.”

Lukas studied her for a long moment, his stern expression softening further. He had been by her side long enough to understand how heavy the crown weighed on her, even though she wasn’t Queen yet. He saw it in the way she carried herself, always poised, always controlled. But now, standing here in the moonlight, he saw something else—something he hadn’t seen in her for a long time. Happiness.

Another sigh escaped his lips, and this time it was more resigned. Without a word, he reached out and gently took the helmet from her arms. She watched, surprised, as Lukas examined it for a moment, running his thumb over the smooth surface. Then he looked up at her, his voice firm but not unkind.

“I’ll cover for you tonight,” he said quietly. “If anyone asks, you’ve been in your room since before dinner. But,” he added, fixing her with a pointed look, “you absolutely cannot sneak out again. Not this week, not ever—not like this. It’s too risky. Do you understand?”

Her heart swelled with a mixture of relief and guilt. She had expected anger, a stern reprimand, maybe even being dragged straight to her parents. But Lukas’s understanding, his willingness to protect her, caught her off guard.

“I understand,” she said softly, grateful. “Thank you, Lukas. I— I’m sorry.”

Lukas’s expression softened even more, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’ve watched you grow up. I know what this life asks of you. But you need to be careful, princess. You can’t take these kinds of risks.”

She nodded, her throat tight. “I won’t. I promise.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them easing. Then Lukas glanced down at the helmet again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re getting into some interesting hobbies, Your Highness. Kart racing, huh?”

She grinned, a small laugh escaping her. “It’s... different,” she admitted. “But I love it.”

“I can see that,” Lukas said with a rare hint of amusement in his voice. “Just—if you’re going to be tearing around tracks at night, maybe let me know first. That way I won’t have to worry about losing you to some street racer.”

Her eyes widened, her heart skipping at the thought of Lukas discovering who she had been racing with. She quickly shook her head, laughing nervously. “No street racers,” she said. “Just... fun.”

Lukas gave her a knowing look, but he didn’t push. Instead, he held up the helmet and gestured toward the stable door. “Go on. Get inside before someone else spots you.”

She nodded, stepping past him, but before she could go, Lukas added, “I’ll keep this for now,” referring to the helmet in his hand. “Safer that way. I’ll give it back to you when it’s... less suspicious.”

She smiled, grateful. “Thank you, Lukas.”

Lukas just gave a small nod, watching as she slipped through the door into the palace, her heart still pounding with the remnants of the night’s excitement.

As she quietly made her way back to her room, she couldn’t help but smile. She had managed to keep her secret—thanks to Lukas—and despite the risks, she didn’t regret a moment of it. The track, Max, the rush of the race—it was all worth it.

But she knew Lukas was right. She couldn’t keep sneaking out like this. Not without being more careful. Yet even as she crawled into bed, the memory of the night’s freedom stayed with her, lingering like the glow of the moon outside her window.And as her eyes drifted closed, a small, rebellious thought crossed her mind: Maybe just one more race.

part two

[punkshort]

Love at First Sight

A drabble from A Deeper Purpose/A Deeper Meaning universe, takes place between the two.

A/N: Dedicated to @brigcally - wishing you a flawless delivery ❤️

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel helps you through your delivery.

Warnings: child birth, descriptions of pain/fear, anxiety, blood (only a little), language, fluff, allusion to prior smut but nothing explicit, breastfeeding

WC: 2.6K

It was a beautiful day.

The morning was crisp, the afternoon warm, but not stifling. For once, Joel didn't finish his patrol shift feeling like he had to bathe for an hour after to scrub off the layers of sweat and grime.

He was feeling good. His back didn't hurt so much that day and he was in a remarkable mood. It probably had something to do with the night before. The last trimester of your pregnancy had made you absolutely insatiable for him and he was more than happy to oblige. That even included nights like the previous night when you woke him up with your hand already snaked down his pants and your lips leaving feverish kisses all over his bare chest.

It was a shock he wasn't more tired.

But it turned out that was a bigger blessing than he originally thought because he was about to have one of the longest days of his life.

The moment he entered the gates and slid down from his horse, reins in hand as he began to lead his mare into the stable, Tommy came racing up to him from down the street with a frantic look in his eye.

Joel's heart plummeted and he dropped the reins, horse long forgotten.

"Is she okay?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and tossing them on the ground before breaking out into a sprint towards his house.

Tommy skid to a stop so he could change directions, jogging after him.

"Yeah, she's fine," Tommy called, causing Joel to slow down, but only just a little. "She's at the clinic, doc says she's in labor-"

"Tommy, what the fuck?" Joel yelled as he resumed his running.

"She's fine!" Tommy yelled after him with a dry laugh. "She's hours away from anythin', only a little dilated, slow the hell down!"

But of course, he didn't. You needed him.

He ran the entire way to the clinic, bursting through the door, gasping for air with his head swiveling this way and that, looking for any sign of you. One of the nurses looked up from her desk and stood.

"Joel, she's fine," she began to say calmly, but Joel just shook his head, chest heaving and shaky finger pointing to the back room.

"Where?"

The nurse led him to the room where you were laying in bed with a book, as if nothing were happening whatsoever.

"W-what's goin' on?" Joel stammered, looking around the room as if he were missing something. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"You're back early."

Joel huffed and shrugged his coat off. "Tommy said you're in labor. The hell's goin' on? Where's the doc?"

"I'm only three centimeters," you said, picking your book back up and flipping the page. "It's gonna be a while."

Joel just stood there, heart still thundering in his chest as he struggled to shift out of panic mode. He had expected to come into the room where you were screaming and crying in pain, scared and wondering where he was, but everything seemed perfectly... normal.

Slowly, he sunk down into the chair next to your bed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Scared the shit outta me," he muttered. "Do you need anythin'?"

You shook your head, still focused on your book. "Nope. I'm all good."

He sat there, completely bewildered and desperate for something to do to help.

"Water?"

You held up the bottle you had tucked at your side and shook your head.

"Pillows?"

You grinned. "Three's plenty."

He couldn't just sit there. He had to make himself useful and burn off some of that nervous energy. So he began to pace around the room, squinting at the tiny printer next to your bed that tracked the baby's heart rate and your contractions, as if he understood what he was reading. Then he peered out into the hallway, looking for any sign from the medical staff.

"Where's the doc?" he asked again after about twenty fitful minutes. "Shouldn't he be checkin' on you? I'll go find him."

"Joel!" you exclaimed with a laugh. He turned around, expression so worried that it melted your heart on the spot. "Joel, come sit down. I don't need the doctor right now."

His fingers fidgeted at his side when he glanced between you and the open door as if he were deciding which way to go, then eventually caved and went back to your side.

"I gotta do somethin'," he explained, sitting back down and taking your outstretched hand.

"I think you did enough," you joked, pointing at your rounded belly. He gave you an obligatory laugh but his nerves wouldn't settle for the life of him. "We're going to be here for a long time. There's no use getting worked up about it, okay?" you said softly, thumb stroking his rough knuckles.

He glanced down at the floor for a moment, then took a deep breath before replying. "With Sarah, it happened so fast," he told you. You remained perfectly quiet while he spoke. He didn't like to talk about Sarah much and you never pressured him, but whenever he brought her up, you always hung on his every word. "Her mom - her water broke in the middle of the night and by mornin', I was holdin' Sarah in my arms. I guess I just thought..." he trailed off and sniffed a bit, gaze still pinned to the floor.

"Everyone's experience is different," you told him gently when it became apparent he was done talking. "Sometimes it happens fast, sometimes it takes days."

"Days?" he repeated, looking up at you with surprise.

"Yeah, let's hope that's not going to happen to me because you'll really have your work cut out for you, Miller."

He laughed, and that time you could tell it was his real laugh. He was finally beginning to relax.

"How are you so calm 'bout this, darlin'?" he asked, sitting back in his chair to look at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Because I'm so happy, Joel," you told him simply with a little shrug. "And I know no matter what, as long as I have you and our baby, it'll all work out."

His eyes grew misty and he quickly slid his gaze elsewhere, but you caught it and smiled.

"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "You need anythin' at all, you just gotta ask, alright?"

You nodded, pleased that he was finally settling down, then went to pick up your book. When you reached forward, you hissed and grabbed your stomach, a sudden searing pain ripping across your lower belly and spreading down your spine.

"Fuck!" you seethed. Joel was on his feet in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Contraction," you gritted out, grabbing onto his hand to hold on to something while you rode out the pain. Joel's face instantly filled with worry again.

"Lemme get the doc, maybe he can give you somethin'."

"No!" you shouted, then took a deep, shuddering breath before relaxing back into your pillows. "No," you whispered as your grip on his hand loosened. "Oh, wow," you breathed, exhaling slowly as the pain faded away. "That was a lot more intense than the other ones."

"Alright, there's stuff the doc can give you -"

"What do you think he's got, Joel?" you asked him. "It's the end of the damn world, there's no pain management he can give me that won't hurt the baby."

Joel propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to think of a solution.

"What 'bout a hot water bottle?"

You considered it for a moment before nodding.

"I'll ask the doctor if I can use it on my stomach but at the very least it'll help my goddamn tailbone."

Joel clapped his hands together once and quickly ran out of the room, thrilled to finally have something he could do to help. He was gone fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. When he stepped back into your room, rubber water bottle sloshing under his arm, you were in the midst of another contraction, and this time the doctor was at your side studying the monitor next to your bed while you cried and writhed around in pain.

"Shit! Baby, I'm sorry," Joel said, rushing to your side to grab your hand. You held onto him like a lifeline, forehead and neck slick with sweat and cheeks stained with tears as you tried to fight through the worst part of the contraction.

Joel had had enough of seeing you in pain.

"Can't you do somethin'?" he barked at the doctor, an elderly man who, to his credit, was rather unshakable. He just sighed and peered at Joel over his glasses.

"Only thing that'll help is gettin' that baby out," he said gruffly. When your contraction finally subsided and your muscles relaxed into the mattress, your sheets already looking soaked with sweat, the doctor tapped your knees and kneeled at the foot of the bed. Joel watched, slightly horrified, as the man shoved two gloved fingers inside you. Your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe through it, but Joel could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on.

"Comin' along nicely," he remarked when he finally removed his fingers. He snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the ever growing pile of garbage in the basket next to the door. "You might just have a baby before end of the day. You're at six centimeters."

"Six!?" Joel exclaimed. "An hour ago you were three!"

"And she might stay at six for hours til there's any more movement," the doctor said. When he saw the look on your face at the thought of being in that much pain for that long, he quickly followed up with, "Or you'll continue to dilate quickly and in a few hours you'll have a beautiful baby."

Tears filled your eyes once the doctor left and you buried your face in your hands.

"C'mon, baby, don't cry, it's alright," Joel soothed. Then he remembered the water bottle, so he slipped a pillow case around it and pressed it up against your back.

"Oh," you breathed, head lifting up and eyes fluttering open. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Joel asked, mindlessly rubbing your upper back. He watched you take a few deep breaths, then your tears slowed and you leaned back with a deep sigh.

"Thank you," you whispered, "this feels so much better."

"You're welcome," he replied just as softly. "I won't leave your side again."

The remainder of the afternoon was more of the same. Contractions came quicker and grew more intense with each hour, but thankfully every time the doctor checked, you were steadily progressing. Joel kept your water bottle warm and would massage your back and shoulders whenever you grew too tense. And even though the pain was getting worse, you were doing just fine because you knew each jolt of pain was bringing you closer and closer to meeting your baby.

It was around nine in the evening when the doctor announced you were ten centimeters.

"You ready to push?" he asked, giving you a comforting wink. You nodded and looked up at Joel, your fingers laced together anxiously. His expression was a mix of fear and excitement while he murmured praise and comfort in your ear. One of the nurses elevated your bed and padded the sides and another was laying out all sorts of sterilized instruments on a small table at the foot of the bed. Joel caught you eyeballing at a particularly scary looking scalpel and he leaned down.

"You don't look down there, you look right at me," he told you firmly. You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath.

"I can do this."

Joel grinned and gave you a quick kiss.

"Fuck yeah, you can."

And you did. You really fucking did.

It took less than an hour but it felt like a whole lifetime, and just as you promised, you didn't look away from Joel once. With every push, he stared you right in the eye and clutched your hand and told you how strong you were, how he hoped your baby would be just like you and how he couldn't wait to meet them.

And finally, with one last push that took every ounce of energy you had, you felt it: relief. The pressure in your lower stomach was gone, the pain in your back and tailbone disappeared and for one ridiculous moment you thought you had somehow transcended what it was to feel pain until you heard a sharp wail pierce the air.

Tears flooded your eyes and your heart was racing so fast, the monitor next to your bed started beeping angrily. Then the doctor held up your baby from above the drop cloth that separated your lower half and for the first time in your life, you knew what it was to truly love someone. You loved Joel and your friends, but this was entirely different. This was a unique, pure kind of love that existed exclusively between a mother and her child, a kind of love that settled deep in your chest without any convincing at all.

"She's beautiful," you sobbed, reaching out for your baby.

"How'd you -" Joel began, but the doctor ushered him over to cut the umbilical cord so they could clean her up.

"She's right, it's a girl," he told Joel once he sliced the pinkish grey cord. Blood and clear fluid splashed onto the floor and it felt like marking the beginning of something. Somehow with that simple motion, Joel felt that feeling he never thought he would feel again. That unwavering urge to love and protect and provide flared like heat inside of him to the point where he had to hold himself back from letting the nurses whisk his daughter away.

"We did it," you whimpered, collapsing weakly into bed with tears streaming from your eyes while the doctor got to work cleaning and sewing you back up.

"You did it," Joel corrected before pressing a kiss against your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering for just one second longer before pulling back and swiping away tears of his own.

The two of you stayed like that, enjoying your little bubble for five minutes longer, knowing full well when the nurses brought your baby back into the room, it would no longer be just the two of you ever again.

And when they did, oh, when they did bring her back in, all red faced and angry with the world already, you couldn't have been happier. But when she latched onto your breast, even though that first time was clumsy and awkward, she finally quieted down and looked up at you. She had deep brown eyes just like Joel and she gave you a look that said, I know you. You just laughed and carefully stroked her perfect little cheek while Joel leaned over the bed, smile permanently plastered across his face as he watched his girls officially meet for the first time.

"She's so perfect," you whispered, watching as milk trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"You did so good, mama," Joel murmured in your ear before kissing the side of your head. "What should we name her?"

You couldn't look away from her, and she couldn't get enough of the two of you. Her eyes darted back and forth, probably wondering what the hell was going on and why her mom and dad wouldn't stop staring at her. And before you even had a chance to think it over, you answered.

"Emma," you said, grinning when her eyes found yours again. "Her name's Emma."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[jintaka-hane]

The World At Your Feet

Masterlist

Summary: Your captain ADORES you. Word count: 350 Notes: English is not my first language sooo... bear with me XD (x f!reader)

NSFW MDNI!! +18, please minors skip this!

You're not lovers, yet every night you end up tangled in his sheets, moaning and sweating, squirming beneath him as he rides you roughly, all grunts and curses as he fucks you into his mattress like a rabid dog.

You're not a couple, but after the adrenaline of a fight he drags you to his workshop, bending you over his workbench and digging his painted nails into your hips, spreading your legs with a rough kick, nudging them apart with his knees.

He's not your boyfriend, but he wraps his arm possessively around your waist, claiming you jealously for himself, and punishes you later if he sees you giving attention to someone else– gripping your hair and forcing your head between his legs, reminding you who you belong to.

You're not his girlfriend, but a single smile and a sway of your hips are enough to make him obsessed with you all day, seeking you out whenever he gets the chance to bury his face between your thighs, holding you pinned against a wall, and chastising you for being so a fucking tease.

You're not wed, but every time he mounts you, burying his hard, throbbing cock in you, pounding with relentless intensity, he fantasizes about filling your womb as if you were his brood mare, the thought of your swollen belly with his child driving him feral and making him thrust with a brutal, unforgiving pace as your warm body takes him in.

You’re none of that because you’re so much more.

You’re the one who soothes him, your fingers threading through his red locks as you cradle his head in your lap. The one who enrages him, his fists crashing into walls when your defiance pushes him too far. The one he turns to when he breaks, soaking your chest with heartbroken tears as he crumbles in your arms.

You’re the person he would give his entire life for—the one he would die for.

And above all, you’re the one to whom he’ll bring the One Piece when he finds it, kneeling in the sand before you, his queen, laying all the gold and power of the world at your feet.

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

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn <3

[trashmouth-richie]

ad caelum vel ad inferos, tecum sum to heaven or hell, i am with you

the final part [4.6k] geta x reader summary: death, smut, GORE

🥀dulcis ut rosa 🥀dulex 🥀vitiosis + deliciosus 🥀frangere me

s/o to my beta @rxqueenotd , and anyone else i’ve screamed at with over this fic 🤎

Blue skies could never compare to the icy hatred that filled Caracalla’s eyes as he stood above you, flanked by soldiers on either shoulder. “Perhaps the dungeon will help you remember which Emperor you are to be serving? Hm?” 

Blood trickled down your hairline, collecting in a slow drop from your chin onto the dirty floor. The cell was barely wide enough to lay down in. A piss pot stood full in one corner, its odor still more pleasant than the sickly aroma of Caracalla’s breath when he found you waiting for Geta. 

You had been startled seeing him instead of the man you had spent the last many nights crying for. Trying to run you were hit hard and the rest was gone until you woke up here. 

A swift kick to your legs and chest, had you doubling over, the pain boiling hot in your veins. 

“How incompetent do you think I am?” Caracalla spit. “My brother doesn’t move throughout these walls without me knowing. Months! He’s been fucking your mouth raw, spilling his seed down your throat after nights spent in luxury with me!” A giggle bullies out from his lungs, “did you think I hadn’t a clue? An inkling as to why his chamber stood empty at the same moment that you left mine?” 

You haven’t said a word and you refused to, he didn’t deserve an explanation. 

A tear slips down his rouge painted face, “I confided in you, we were soulmates you and I. Geta is nothing! He feels nothing!” 

You shook your head, unable to accept his words. “How did you do it, magae. How did you bewitch my brother to fall for your wickedness?” 

Raising your chin in spiteful defiance, you glared into his disgusting putrid eyes, “You pathetic, sniveling swine— I am no such witch, but I can not wait to witness the carnage Geta will bestow upon you.” 

Caracalla giggles in a high pitched tone, “oh my dear, he will be long dead before that shall ever happen,” he looks around at the moldy holed dungeon, “maybe you can charm the rats while you’re rotting away waiting for your precious Geta.” 

—

Wind and insects scratched at his face as he pushed his horse faster, hooves kicking up sand and rocks in a storm as they raced for Palace Hill. Geta screamed with rage when Acacius told him of your demise, knowing exactly who was behind it. What a fool he was for leaving you unattended. Caracalla must have found out, and maybe he himself was too blind by Cupid’s lust to notice the changes within his own kingdom. 

Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes as he imagined the perils of danger you were now in— because of him.

His reins slapped sharply against the muscled backside of his horse as he pumped every ounce of strength from the mare to get home- to get back to you.

Whatever Caracalla had done, heads would fucking roll once he got back. That was a promise. 

—

How many days had it been? Four? A week? The dark had made you lose count. 

At times you weren’t sure if your eyes were open or closed, the pitch black was endless, curling around you like smoke and suffocating any happiness you had tried to muster. 

The dungeon was crawling with vermin, caked with disease and body fluids from decades before you had been tossed in here like a rabies riddled dog. Food had stopped coming, water was scarce except for the trickle of fresh springs that siddled down the stone wall. At least you told yourself it was a fresh spring that you were consuming, but more than likely it was tainted water that kept you alive. 

You prayed to the Gods that Geta would come for you. That he wasn’t head first into a war that he agreed to when you pushed him away. You were so stupid for doing so, but you couldn’t help the racking sobs when you pictured how hurt he was… and crying harder yet when realizing, that was the last time. 

Days had passed and you could feel your mind slipping from you. Exhaustion, dehydration settling in had you hallucinating images of the Emperor. It was almost comforting the way your mind was protecting itself, throwing you into an alternate reality of laying in his lavish bed instead of the hard shit-soaked stones. 

You could feel his blunt nails tickling your sides, but in truth it was beetles gnawing on your bare skin. Geta kept you warm and safe in your head, even though it was apparent from the lack of food, proper sunlight, and clean water—that you were falling ill. 

—

It hadn’t been that long since Geta had left, but approaching the Hill had his skin crawling. Dismounting his mare, everything seemed odd. 

It was unusually quiet. The air felt sharp against his skin. Smelled of pungent rot, souring his nose. The wind seemed to howl a song he hadn’t recognized— the sickly tune of a kingdom at war with itself. 

His father had trained them both on how to rule with force, how to command an army, to hold rank and battle to the blood flowing end—their enemies head on a stake. 

Caracalla by himself was juvenile when it came to war tactics, knowing the basics of stationing men on watch, high in the walls on the terraces. Two men for each direction, pointing their noses North, East, South and West. A handful of guards on the entrance. 

If this was a war with any other enemy— Geta would have spent a full sun tracking their movements meticulously. But never had his enemies captured something so dear to him. 

Acacius landed from his own horse beside Geta’s kneeled form, knowing his thoughts before he could even act on them. 

“It’s unwise, my lord…” he said carefully, placing a weathered hand on Geta’s shoulder, “we cannot risk the element of surprise when our emotions are clouding our judgment.”  

Geta’s eyes twitched as he stared ahead at the palace, his mind traveling to where you were being kept, knowing in his heart it was in the deepest part of the palace, the south dungeon.

He breathed raggedly through his nose before he spoke between gritted teeth, “I will paint all of Rome with their innards for what they’ve done, and I will not stop until their bodies are drained of all their blood.” 

Acacius shook is head in worry, clearing his throat, “you’re mind is unclear, you should rest before—”

Adrenaline raced through Geta’s veins as he mounted his mare, “I’m going, with or without your help. What good am I to her waiting for calculated time?” 

Acacius threaded a hand through his salty peppered hair, eyeing his emperor— his friend. His voice was riddled with pain when he spoke, “what good are you to her if you’re dead?” 

Geta pondered this, but his reply was simple, and he said the most truthful thing that has ever passed his lips, “I’ll be the man she makes me want to be.” 

—

“Up! Get up!” 

Caracalla had figured once Geta found out that his precious whore was locked away and starved that he  would be on his way to come and rescue you. He waited day and night for his brother’s return. And finally— there was a spec in the distance. His brother returning in all his glory. 

He skipped down to the dungeon— literally skipping and hopping on one foot in glee as he came down to the depths of the palace to retrieve you for the final act.

A hand clasped harshly in your hair, yanking you from a deep sleep, followed by a taunting giggle.

You had grown weak in your time secluded from light and clean air. Unable to stand on your own properly, Caracalla brought you to your feet like you were a doll, the flame he held showed just how manic and possessed he had become. 

He was like a poisoned animal practically foaming from the mouth with insanity. Biting his lip constantly, chewing and gnawing, infesting it with sores. He wore his best robes, bangles jingling as he brought you closer to his face. 

Jumping back, he lets your body slump against the bars, a hand to his chest, “Yuck— you smell like horeshit! Maybe we should have fed you more, bathed you… I’ve never been very good with keeping pets…” 

Caracalla rubs his chin for a moment, then as if he is brought back from a different time, he claps twice,  “oh well, time to go, your precious Geta is here and it’s time to play!”

You try to fight back feebly, trying to shove his face away from you, your filthy fingernails clutching at his doughy powder coated flesh.

“C’mon!” he pleads like a child, pushing your hands down and bringing a blade to your neck, “you’re going to be the star of the production and you simply can’t miss the show!” 

When sunlight hit your skin it was like you were being burned alive. Your feet scuffed against the stone steps, and you were winded from the climb. Everything was so bright as if you were looking directly into the suns beams. 

Caracalla hissed into your ear, the pungent smell of fruit and fish combining into a stomach twisting aroma as he whispered, “you’ve been such a delight to us here, I will be so upset to see you dead… I’ve been practicing my tears and cries of mourning for when you’re laid to rest with my brother.”

“You won’t be triumphant against him,” you croaked trying to wiggle free from his hold. 

Caracalla giggled before winding back and slapping your cheek, “why do you have to speak such lies? You will die by his hand— squashed like the gnat you’ve become.” 

—

The palace walls roared. 

Thundered like a storm of bees defending their hive. Clashes of swords and weapons gleamed like lightning against a dark sky. Amongst the clouds of dust from the lack of harvest rain, blood splattered the stones like oil paint to a canvas. 

Geta’s revengeful carnage had begun. 

Carnage was colored with maroon and deep sets of rubies in a hilt. Specs of pinkish brain membrane laid out like flower petals at a wedding. 

Carnage was the sound of teeth chipping at the root being ripped away from the gum line, the sheath of a knife embedded into a lung, an abdomen, the muscular thigh of one of Caracalla’s more prominent men. 

Carnage reeked of shit and death. The humble hands of Pluto himself, stretching his claws to welcome home another victim. 

Carnage was Geta, annihilating anyone who stood in his way to get to you. A force built with bared teeth and rippling muscles, sweat dripping from his honey hair. Eyes as black as coal— soulless in every sense of the word. 

The men falling dead by his hands trembled in cowardice when they saw him coming, forgetting how powerful he was with a sword. 

Swords drew silent, the only sound being the pooling fountains now tainted with blood from the dead. Everyone in the palace was either lying deceased or were in hiding, waiting for this hell to end. But Geta had only just begun. 

“Brother!” he shouted, his voice echoing against the marble stone, deep and ragged with exertion. He was standing at his throne then, bodies laying at a heap by his feet, his body covered in their blood, “I know you’re around, Caracalla—answer me!” 

Beyond the pillars behind the tapestries, Caracalla stood with a knife pressed into the meat of your neck, his breath hot against your cheek— a giggle forming in his throat like a child tucked away during a game of hide n seek.

“It’s a shame, Geta,” he announced, his voice ricocheting off the walls, “a fucking shame that you are so soft for this common whore when you’ve had so many, father would be disappointed.” 

Geta’s eyes narrowed, listening for any bit of noise underneath Caracalla’s feet to give him away. He moved on nimble feet, each move more quiet than the next as he waited with trained ears for Caracalla to speak again. 

“What is between you and I, has nothing to do with her— she is merely caught in the middle of our feud— let, her go.” 

Caracalla’s laugh pierced your ear, ringing loudly like a hyena as spit flew from his manic mouth. “She is much more than a simple bystander dear Geta… otherwise you wouldn’t care so proudly.” 

Geta strode towards the direction of his brother’s voice, waiting in the shadows. “You have always been less, why do you think mother and father had me? I was to make up for your shortcomings, so that Septimius Severus would have a decent heir. One who could actually keep the family name in Rome.”

“Enough!” Caracalla screamed, shoving you forward into the clearing, his blade still pressed into your neck, a line of crimson dripping from it, his frantic panicked laugh bubbling behind a shriek, “there will be no heirs for you, brother! I was going to offer her life in place of your crown, let you both be on your merry little way but you just don’t get it do you? I will rule on my own, and you will both be left to rot in the dungeons. Poetic isn’t it?! Two lovers dead by my hand.” 

With the way your head was arched toward the ceiling, you couldn’t see Geta. You could only hear a hitch in his throat at the sight of you. The sodden robes you wore, the filth caked to your skin. 

Geta didn’t move, knowing that Caracalla would be more likely to accidentally cut you deep enough to kill you if he tried to do anything drastic. But the look of you made his stomach curdle like cows milk left in the summer heat.  

The once plump and luscious curves you had were gone. The robes you wore were next to rags. You had been locked away far longer than he had imagined. Possibly weeks before he had even got word of it. If you truly had been with child, there was no tell of it now. Tears stung behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them drop.

“Mother should have drowned you in the river like a litter of pups,” he nearly whispered, eyes trained on his brother, “release her or I will slaughter more of your men leaving their poor wives to be widowed.” 

“Now why would I do such a thing? I’m having the time of my life orchestrating this production.” They both moved then circling like the gladiators would in the coliseum, baiting one another to strike first.

Geta’s eyebrows furrowed at Caracalla’s choice of words… production? 

“Must you be so dense? So surface leveled?” Caracalla answered, “Jessaphina, that wart—terrible actress but she did the job, made this concubine believe every word.” Caracalla grinned like a opossum eating a pile of shit, dragging you with him, your hair wrapped tight in his clutch.

Geta’s eyes never leave Caracalla, his movements smooth and languid as he counts his steps, seconds. 

“Pliteus, the guard who told her to meet you at ‘your spot’ another spy, made actor by yours truly, for the Theatre, of course. And all that leaves is you, Geta. You will be the widower, the brute left in tears of sorrow pleading for a whore’s life. Gods!— I shall be famous when this is through!” 

“You’re demented,” you managed against the sharp blade, cutting yourself in the process, “sickenly so.” 

Caracalla wretched his hand twisting your head back with a snap, causing you to yelp, ”I’m an artist you rancid cow! Can’t you see that?! This was all a form of expression— your uneducated brain would never be able to appreciate such a thing— it’s why I put this all into motion!” 

“So what?” Geta spit,  “you were bored? Needed an activity to keep your cogs oiled enough for you to not slit your wrists in the baleneum, again? You’re a child!” 

Caracalla giggled wickedly mad, “People will write about me for the end of time and how I bested Publius Septimius Geta! You will be nothing more than a myth—erased from memory entirely!” 

Geta stopped, his sword pointing toward his brother. The wind didn’t howl, silence fell between them.

“It will be a true honor to breed my empress in a bed of your blood while she wears her crown.” 

With a jerk of his head, Acacius moves, causing the distraction they had planned. The arrow missing Caracalla’s foot purposefully, causing him to lose his balance and hold on your body. You fell to the ground taking advantage of his blundered state, crawling on all fours away from him. 

Just as the swing of Geta’s blade was centimeters from the skin of Caracalla’s neck, it was stopped with his knife, a crude smile licked onto his lips. “I know your moves dearest brother, you forget it was you and I as children playing these games.” 

Caracalla pushes the sword from him and jabs the tip of the knife into Geta’s bicep. Tearing through tendons and muscles with each twist of his hand. 

“War is not a game,“ Geta gritted, tripping Caracalla with a swipe of his foot until he was on his knees before him, “…and it’s time you realize that.” 

A toss of Acacius sword into Geta’s open hand, and he pressed two blades crossed beneath Caracalla’s chin. 

Caracalla’s throat bobbed against the sharp steel, accepting his defeat, “make it swift precious brother, I intend to see father before the sun sleeps.” 

The blades sung as they severed his head from his spine. Blood sprayed and pooled from the limp teetering body of Caracalla, swords clattered to the ground as Geta stumbled to your side, holding you to him in a bone crushing grasp. 

“You’re safe now.” A tear fell onto your head as he cradled your body into his. 

Your body was still weak as you clung to him practically lifeless as he lifted you from the ground. He instructed Acacius on what to do with the mess. Geta carried you to his private bath, stripped you gingerly of your clothes and bathed you with exceptional care. His lips kissing tenderly to every scrape, every bruise. 

He tutted through his teeth and hissed when your tears fell as he gently wiped the dirt and infection from your cuts. His own tears flowing down his cheeks, mumbling how sorry he is how stupid he was for ever leaving. 

When you tried to speak he shushed you quietly, “not now my dulcis rosa,” he soothed as he scrubbed soap into your hair, you lifted a hand to caress his cheek, coaxing a small smile from him.

Geta called to his servants— that weren’t killed—to gather fresh robes and to fix you something warm and easy to eat. 

He dried your skin once you were cleansed. Rubbing oils and ointments into each ache and pain, dressing the wounds in such expertise you wondered if he had done this often, probably to his own scars. 

Up those winding stairs he carried you to his quarters, never wavering, never once adjusting you in his strong arms.

The room was thrown into its usual cozy dark ambience. His bed was made with enormous feathered pillows, a tray next to the bed with a plate of porridge dressed with honey and figs. 

Once Geta had set you gently onto the pillows propping you up so you could eat, he shook his head when you reached for the spoon. 

“Let me,” he commanded quietly, his eyes large and wet. 

More tears slipped past your lashes as he sniffed largely, blowing gently on the bite of food. “When was your last meal?” 

“I’m not sure of what day we are in,” you answered quietly, “or how long I was there… I lost track.” 

Geta bit back a sob as he brought the spoon to your lips, “It shouldn’t have happened, I shouldn’t have left you so vulnerable.” 

“Please,” you practically begged, swallowing the warm sweetened wheat.  He looked broken, his under eyes dark and his eyelid twitching uncontrollably. Weeks the two of you had been separated and you couldn’t bear the thought of him spiraling for what had happened.

“We are together again,” you whispered, “I do not want to live in past mistakes. Caracalla is gone now, we must move forward, no dwelling.” 

“Forgiveness of thyself has never come easily for me,” Geta admitted wiping a dreadful sigh from his face, “but I can only hope you now know that there has never been another for me—I am so deeply in love with you, gnat.” 

You reached for him pulling him into you until the weight of his body melted with yours. Feverish lips tasted the sweat from his neck as you desperately ached for more of it, pressing your own devotions into his skin, your own words of cupid's love.

Geta’s strong arms wrapped around your back, holding you tenderly as if you were glass. pressing a single searing kiss to your collarbone before leaning back, his eyes staring into yours, “In this lifetime and the one that follows, I will forever be yours— ad caelum vel ad inferos, tecum sum.”

“Ad caelum vel ad inferos.” 

—

Caracalla’s room was sealed off. His belongings burned in the coliseum along with his body, as if he were a monster that could only be considered dead by smoldering licks of flame. 

Geta left the fate of the others up to you. He had wanted them dead the next day, hung from a rope by their necks as they swung with the breeze, paraded around behind his team of horses until they’re skin was pulled from their bones. But you… had other plans. 

Animals from other territories were brought in by the shipload, each more vile and vicious as the next. They were hungry, trained to attack at the smell of garments worn by a certain woman with a healing broken nose. 

It was maybe a bit too grotesque, maybe a bit unhinged the way you had Acacius’s best men tie Jessaphina up from her ankles and wrists one to each post in the center of the coliseum.

And maybe it was a bit over-the-top when you personally rubbed greasy fat and cow entrails all over her body to taunt the beasts on even further. 

But Geta only smirked at your own impressive drive for bloodlust when you stood before your throne hollering for the men to open the gates, releasing the hungry scavengers one by one letting them sniff out their meal. 

Geta watched in admiration as your eyes turned dark, black pools taking over your pretty gaze as Jesspahina’s screams rang through the air

You couldn’t get your hands off of him when her body lay ripped to shreds, her bones being tossed around between snarling teeth and sharp black claws. The sand colored in her crimsoned blood. You pulled him from his own throne by the front of his shirt, yanking him into a small private room covered by a drapery for a door.

“My little demonic empress,” Geta growled as he pushed himself further into you, groaning when you whimpered out, your lip bit between your teeth, robes rucked up to your chest, “you just might be more evil than I am, have my ways rubbed off on you?” 

The passion between you two had never dulled. Each day it seemed to grow with fervorous desire. Some days Geta fucked into you until you were too sore to walk. Your bodies were both painted with stains from sucking mouths and marks from gnashing teeth. Each time better than the last. 

You were soaked when Geta knelt before you, his nose pressed into your sex as you circled your hips onto it. He stood and shoved his clothing out of the way, yours already stuffed beneath your chin. and when he slammed his fat cock into you the darkness returned. Two demons fucking at the loss of life and smell of blood in the air. 

“Practically getting off to a hideous murder in front of my mother and the others, my my…” he hissed, wrapping a hand around your throat squeezing until your breath rattled beneath his palm, “you truly were sent to me from the Gods weren’t you?” 

You nodded, moaning when he attached his lips to your neck, pinching your nipple until it purpled. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing the deserved slaughtered.” 

Geta groaned as your clenching pussy gripped him as you came undone, his own release following closely behind, yelling out your name. 

“I have a surprise for you,” he breathed raggedly into your neck, adjusting your robes back into place, sweat pouring from his brow.

Your smile squeaked against his ear, “it is not even my birth date, Geta, you are spoiling me.” 

Leaving the room Geta kisses your palm, “no,” he agrees, “it is not, but am I not allowed to gift my wife with divine luxuries?” 

“You are, but you don’t need to give me anything…” you say, holding your belly with which the healer confirmed that you were indeed with child all along. Something Geta never let you forget that he knew you better than you knew yourself. 

His lips pressed to your cheek, his hand laying delicately on your stomach as you whispered, “you’ve given me enough as it is.” 

He smiled wickedly pulling back to lace your fingers with his own, “come,” he commanded, pulling you back towards the palace. 

—

The great stone table stood bare except for a golden cloth. Acacius proudly stood guard next to it, bowing upon the sight of you. 

“My lady,” he greeted, smiling at the sight of your radiant face, then facing Geta with the same warm smile, “Emperor.” 

“Thank you,” Geta said, rubbing his hands together excitedly, “hope you didn’t have any trouble getting it?” 

Acacius smirked and adjusted his sword on his belt, “not at all, they were quite thrilled to be rid of it.” 

Geta rippled out a laugh from his throat as he stood behind the table, his large hands pressed into it, “I can only imagine… Gnat, my love, are you ready?” 

“As I will ever be,” you said cautiously, stepping up to the table. 

Acacius stood back as Geta pinched a piece of the cloth between his fingers, “presented to you, my undying devotion,” he said sweetly before pulling the cloth revealing your present. 

Anyone else would have ran and screamed, damning him to hell. But you were unlike everyone else, and you saw the beauty in his gift and the meaning behind it. 

Blood had been drained, the smell minimal, and judging by the way the darkness that filled Geta to the brim and now poured into yourself was clouding your eyes, the mad tick of your lips as they perked up in greed: you were pleased. 

“It is exquisite, amor meus,” you smiled wider, getting closer to your present. 

Geta looked at you proudly, his eyes inky and shining. His gnat, his dulcis, his wife, his empress— his tainted heart content for the first time in his life, and it was all thanks to you. “Where shall we put it, the mantle?” 

You picked it up, holding it high to the sky for the Gods to see, “a gift more precious than gold deserves to be seen, for all—don’t you think?” 

Sat on a pedestal, his name engraved on a piece of wood, a large red rose sewn between his lips, was the severed head of Caracalla. 

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[lacucarachapisser]

morning bliss colin zabel x f! reader

warning : SMUT but mostly fluff. cringe. unprotected piv. slightly somno. dub-con. um boobs playing. quick nut. morning make out. a little ass spanking. lazy sex. a bit of cockwarming if you squint. lmk if im missing any im really bad at warning. 1.2k wc.

a/n : i’ve never written smut before so, i am so sorry if it doesn’t landed well. and apologies if there are too many grammatical mistakes english isn’t my first.

“for god’s sake, mare. it’s five in the morning.”

colin is on the phone. he complains while massaging his both temples by pressing the fingertips to the line of his eyebrows. you can hear his morning voice jumbled up with annoyance, though he managed to kept his voice down. he told you just last night how exhausted he was because work had been kicking him right in the ass over and over. working overtime, bringing it home, receiving calls in unusual hours, odd schedules, like hell they could stop.

“well… wouldn’t that be a perfect alibi? honestly it can wait,”

what is he talking about? he wakes up and sat at your shared bed, listening to mare’s voice over the phone. it is indeed still dark outside, you haven’t even feel the morning seep through the drapes. both of you slept back-to-back last night, and you still in your position, laying on your left side as your back facing him. there were time when you had to eavesdrop his phone call unintentionally.

you kept your eyes shut closed, pretending to sleep and didn’t bother to flip around because thus only makes him feel guilty— speaking from experience. he doesn’t want to wake you up early. so you stay still, breathing slowly like you always did when you’re asleep.

“give me 30 minutes okay? i need to—“

he stops and you bet that the other person on the phone is interrupting him.

“fine, 20 minutes. whatever.” the call ended in one click and a long exhales come out from colin’s mouth. “fuck me,”

you rarely catch colin saying cuss word in loathed way, and that makes you indeliberately flinch.

he throws his head back to the pillow, hand placing the phone back to the drawer and turns his head towards you. he had a hard time deciding whether he should get up from bed unnoticed or straightly wake you up because he running out of time. and deciding does running out his time.

he scoops your body, spooning you as his hand gently tracing along your waist and the other slipped beneath your underarm. oh does he misses you so much. it was irrational worry that dwelled within him every time he thought about the guilt. mainly because his jobs always interfering his time with you.

“baby..” he breathes in your hair, whispering and sounds extremely stressed, and needy? he hums, voices vibrate in your ears.

you didn’t say anything as you let him hold you from behind, chest pressed against your back. his muscular hand starts rubbing your tummy, up to your chest and squeezing your clothed boobs. and those act itself caught you off guard, which of course made your eyes arise in a wince. now you understand what colin have in mind. he was never a fan of a quick bite. he prefers having you hours, nice and intimate. but seems someone like to try something new to start the day.

“mmh…” your soul barely even there, despite the fact that you listen the whole time when he was on the phone.

he places soft kisses on your bare shoulder, up to your neck and to your jaw. he slightly get up with his elbow, hand still kneading your round breast, trying to get a better access to assault your tits.

as soon as your eyes turn to him, he quickly presses his lips on yours, busy adding some tongue, unbothered by the fact that you both have morning breath. perhaps since he aware of your mouth routine, you normally very much so strict with oral hygiene and you liked to force him to do so. skipping a coffee ritual and have a light bitter saliva to taste for each other wasn’t really that bad at all. and also, you love him anyway. gross? yeah love stinks.

his palm and digits playfully groping your tits, fingertips circle around the texture in the middle. those veiny hands always read your body like a bible, and yes he was greatly intrigued by the shape of your mind but also had a special fondness of your gorgeous chest.

“i promise it’ll be quick,” he turned you around so now you lay on your back, expeditiously spreading your four limbs, locking your arms above your head and found him already between your legs. he didn’t bother to remove your panties, he just brushes aside the fabric that covers your crotch and exposing your pussy.

like the quickest thief, the tip of his length already meet your fold, entering it deep just in case you can quickly adjust to his big hardened cock. he began to thrust you and adding some pace before start kissing and sucking on your collarbone. in between harsh breathing, you manage to speak, though your voice end up a bit squeaky. “what’s gotten into you..?”

his movement gets faster, abusing your throbbing cunt in belligerence way. was he mad at you? however when he looked at you in the eye, it somehow evoking a sense of benevolent yet miserable expression on his face. oh right… he just running out of his time.

with one deep thrust, he touched your most tender spot and you clenched him hard, a big wave of ecstasy start washing over you.

“c-col!”

he whimpered when the end of heavy orgasm hit and pushes himself deep in you for the last time, fill you up nice and full. “i’m sorry baby, i am so sorry. i need you so bad.”

he kisses you on the mouth and you reciprocate it with a lowkey soft smile draw on your face. you found it funny having him needy and thoughtless at the same time. oh your poor man. you hummed sluggishly, eyes closed as you try to recover from the feeling. he always put your first and perfectly fine if you say no. although seeing him being a little selfish like this was one of your top thing on your list.

“that was fast.” you whispered in between kisses.

“told you. i dont have much time,” he suddenly pull away and hide his face on your neck. “i hate my job,”

“no, you don’t,”

“yes i do hate my job,”

“don’t say that. you loved it.”

he peaks at your face and you give him your smile. “not as much as i love you,” he replies lazily.

“shut up,” those three sacred words is often popped up in every moment, somewhat you never expected at all. “how many minutes you have left now?”

“probably 13? 12?”

“do you think we can do another round?”

a sympathetic eye and frowned eyebrows shown on his face contour, lips curled into a ribbon of disappointment with melancholic wrinkles. a low grunt escape from his mouth and he probably think you’d get upset if he refuse. he was about to reply your question but instead you chuckle and wrapped your arm around his neck.

“i’m messing with you…” you poke his nose with your pointer “come on. let’s get up,”

he exhales and shakes his head “no. still too early for you, you go back to sleep.”

“don’t be silly. i need to change the sheets, come on.”

a soft laugh come out from his lips. he gives you last peck on your cheek before finally get out from the bed. you need to readjust your nightgown first before joining him.

“at least let me make you some coffee,” as you walk by passing him, heading to the door out, he smacked your ass and grinning in satisfaction. those makes you jolt but you honestly don’t give a damn. you used to colin’s habit.

“yes ma’am.” the smile on his face subsides slowly as soon as the sound of the clock catch his ears. only if he could just stop it because now he should be ready for duty might slap his ass at any time.

[cerberus-new-owner]

do over cause i went to save this as a draft to look at something and there was an error (im fuckin crying rn, yes i broke my self censoring streak but this desrved it)

Helloooooooooooooo

sooooooooo it caught my attention that the dumb little sleeping heacannons i made a while ago caught your attention sooooooo

i may be interested in writing a part two but for the Angels + Solomon (raph not included) (btw this is like a rn thing like you're reading the post RN)

part three with barbie and dia at some point too if i remeber (they were originally going to be in this part but i got lazy lol)

Part 1 - The brothers Part 2 - The Angels + Solomon Part 3 - Diavolo + Barbatos

Content thingy-o - GN!mc, implied romance between mc solomon and simeon (seprate) (not luke), slight angst for simeon and lukes parts, mentions of asmodeus and barbatos, pet names for simeon and solomon

Simeon

w/o mc - he is a light sleeper like mother let kid sleep in their own room but is paranoid that something may happen (him and luke cause i hc that luke has night terrors often) he does let luke sleep in his bed if luke has a really bad nightmare or is just really shaken up for whatever reason, doesn't snore but does sleep talk and sleep walk usually to lukes room out of habit of checking on baby luke but occsionally just stands in the corner of solomons room mumbling random things almost creepily (need eggs for the cookies and flour for the cupcakes), i've said this many times before but w i n g s c a n b e b l a n k e t mans sleeps with his wings out as a blanket.

w/ mc - pretty much the exact same buuuuuuuuut cuddle positions!! (i promise i'll add this to the brothers version) love love loves it when him or mc lays on the others chest and he will use his wings to hold mc closer to him also loves big spoon little spoon mainly big spoon so he can wrap his wings around mc (cant tell me he doesn't love holding/hugging/cuddling mc with his wings) will use his wings to block out any morning sun light (if they're in the human realm its a good excuse to sleep in 'simeon, i have to get up its late' 'no you dont angel,its still dark' 'no it isn't, your just using your wings block the sun out') he's also pretty cold and enjoys teasing mc with the power of his freezing cold hands like just placing them on their back or something suddenly to feel the jolt of mc jumping at the sudden temperature change

Luke

w/o mc - frequent night terrors like cannot sleep kinda night terrors so simeon has to help him get back to sleep or atleast try ('luke i promise nothing like that will happen to me' 'are you sure'), he is a restless sleeper he is all over his bed at once and he has like a million plushies on his bed if any fall off he's appologising immediantly, he snores but not loudly like average kind of snores, and like simeon but also not like him (like father like son type a stuff) luke sleeps with his wings out (i feel like its a realm wide kind of thing in the celestial realm) but his wings are not quite blanket size for himself so he does have to use a blanket at night

w/ mc - he's mostly the same (he has slapped both mc and simeon on accident due to his restlesness) but he will bring one plushie with him if he does end up going to simeons room to sleep, also best sleep he'll ever get is when mc is with simeon cause he knows that they're safe with simeon but more importantly if he has a nightmare theres the chance that mc will go to comfort him ('m- mc? i had another *sniffle* nightmare' 'it's okay luke 'm here') it'd help especially if his nightmare is about something bad happening to mc and when he'd end up sleeping in simeons bed he'd be inbetween mc and simeon both of his parental figures helping him go back to sleep helps him to not have night mares or terrors

Solomon

w/o mc - when he does sleep he sleep talks like very big sleep talker tends to accidentally say spells in his sleep or summon asmodeus and/or barbatos in his sleep ('solomoooooooon honey i told you t-' 'so you got summoned by the sleeping bastard at midnight too?') he sleeps sprawled out starfish on his stomach probably still in his uniform (he does not give two craps) average sleeper too like not too deep of a sleep but not too light of a sleep, he will wake up when ever he hears simeon running to lukes room or when simeon is doing the creepy corner stand thing though

w/ mc - he sleeps alot more often still sleep talks and occasionally summons asmo or barbs but not as often stops sleeping starfish but still prefers to sleep on his stomach (which leads us to cuddlessssss) feel like he'd prefer to be ontop of mc like head resting on chest but like face down asleep hugging them as they either play with his hair or sleep, mans if also probaby burning hot so no need for a blanket when you have him ('solomon you're too hot' 'i know i am but you're way hotter my little aprentice' 'solomoooooooon you know what i mean')

edit part thing (i forgot to say goodbye oops)

GOODBYEEEEEEEEEEE AND THANK YOU FOR READINGGGGGG have a goooooood night, day, lunch, brunch, afternoon, pencil idk just have a good one!

Obey Me one Master List to rule them all

[ur-mom-did-69]

My heart is yours

Nika Mühl x Bull Rider

Word count: 974

Hey yall I’m back! Im sorry for taking sorry long work has been extremely busy💀 Anyways here’s part 2!

Watching Alex’s face fall was like watching a heartbreak in real-time. The fire in her girlfriend’s eyes dimmed, replaced with sadness and disbelief. Nika hadn’t intended to hurt her, but the urgency of schoolwork and training was pressing down on her, clouding her judgment. In a moment of selfishness, she had let her words cut deep.

As Alex turned and walked out, her silhouette disappearing as she walked out the door the sound of her truck engine fading into the distance, Nika had watched, frozen in place as the realization hit her like a bucket of cold water. She had driven Alex away with her words. The reality of their relationship hung heavy in the silence, one they had built together now threatening to crumble.

That night, Nika lay in bed, replaying the argument over and over in her mind, each loop echoing her failures. In her heart, she’d known Alex’s bull riding was more than a hobby—it was a passion, a dream, something that, until that moment, she had failed to appreciate. The distance between them felt impossibly wide, the anger fresh but the love underlying it all undeniable.

The next morning Nika woke up with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, only being able to get two hours worth of sleep with the rest of her night being a mixture of her clutching Alex’s favorite hoodie and tossing and turning trying to sleep without the heat and warmth of Alex beside her. Nika immediately checked her phone to see if any new messages or calls had been from the only person who mattered to her when she checked the messages between them only to find that her spam of texts had been left unanswered by Alex.

After sulking in her apartment until noon, she knew what she had to do. She knew that this was her fault. She also knew that she needed to be the one who fixed things between her and Alex. The thought of Alex not forgiving her gnawed at her heart. Sure they had argued before, but it had never escalated to the point of one of them walking out and leaving. Nika sighed as she tried planning out what to do to hopefully make Alex forgive her. Suddenly an idea came to her that was too good for her not to put to use.

With the way Nika drove to Alex’s new farm, a normal person would’ve thought that someone was in the car dying or that the person driving was a self-proclaimed Formula 1 driver. She sped the entire way not letting her car go under 75 on her speedometer. Nika parked beside Alex’s truck and stepped out, taking in the peaceful surroundings. The sounds of nature fluttered around her, but she felt her heartbeat thud loudly in her chest.

Nika found Alex in the barn, tending to the horses, her body moving gracefully as she brushed the silvery mane of a gentle mare. When Alex heard her approach, she turned, her expression softening like an instinct and then hardening as she remembered what Nika had said to her the night before.

“What are you doing here? How’d you find me,” she said, her voice flat, as if bracing for a storm.

“I checked your location,” Nika replied timidly, her heart trembling and eyes teary. “I came to apologize. What I said last night was so uncalled for and out of line from me and I am so sorry, Alex. Please, I really didn’t mean it, baby.”

Alex shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You said some hurtful things, Nika. I don’t want to keep going through this cycle of arguments and silent treatments. It hurts too much.”

“I know, and I promise to do better,” Nika pleaded, stepping closer, her heart in her throat. “No more belittling what you love. I will make time for us—I don’t want to lose you.”

“Are you just saying what you think I want to hear?” Alex challenged, her vulnerability visible in her posture. “I need to know you mean it.”

“Feelings are complicated. Life is complicated,” Nika answered earnestly. “But I know one thing: I want you in my life, Alex. I want to be here helping out on the farm and have you here supporting me on the court. We can make it work if we communicate. I’ve realized you're more than my girlfriend; you’re my partner in everything. How can we get past this?”

The silence stretched between them, thick with emotion. At last, Alex took a deep breath, her walls slowly crumbling as she stepped closer. “I want that too, Nika. But it’s gonna take time and trust.”

Nika nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “Then let’s take that time together. I’ll prove to you how much you matter, no more distractions. We’re a team.”

With that, Alex reached out, breaking the distance, and took Nika's hand in hers. “Oh, I almost forgot”, Nika said as she ran back to her car coming back with flowers and Alex’s favorite candy. “I had to have a plan B in case this wasn’t enough”, she said sheepishly. Alex grinned as she took the gifts from Nika and gave her a soft kiss as a thank you.

“You know how many stores I had to go to for me to get your candy?”, Nika asked jokingly.

“Let me guess, uh three? Wait no, four! Yeah, four”, Alex responded confidently.

“Wrong. I had a secret stash at home. I had to stop to get the flowers, silly”, Nika said barely containing her laughter and running away.

“Hey, you totally set me up!”, Alex pouted. “That isn’t fair!”, she said chasing Nika.

The warmth of the gesture enveloped them in understanding and hope, as the sun shone down on the farm, illuminating a new chapter they would write together.

So what did y’all think? Also I please feel free to send requests as I’m really new to this so I don’t know how to do a lot but I promise to try💀 I also have some ideas that I might write soon so stay tuned!

[aqua-the-smiter]

I DID IT. I WROTE SOMETHING FOR MERMARY Selkie!Ferrus Manus x Argena Seeva (oc) Argena meets a rather peculiar stranger along the seashore. Ferrus is a selkie bc Scottish Iron Hands make brain go brrr. SFW Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SR7QTKe1D7Q Writer's note, Ferrus's seal form is a leopard seal :3 Divider by @squishyowl

It was the most beautiful singing Argena had ever heard.

The voice was male, and it was unusual to think of a man’s singing as beautiful, but there was no other way she could describe it. It was deep-bass deep-and as clear as sunlit seawater. It was strong and steady, the singer’s voice never wavering or breaking or missing a note.

Once a fair and handsome seal-lord lay his foot upon the sand For to woo the fisher's daughter and to claim her marriage hand. "I have come in from the ocean, I have come in from the sea, And I'll not go to the waves, love, lest ye come along with me."

It split the quiet, late summer air. Her singer wasn’t loud, per say, but it carried easily over the sound of the lapping waves and up the short cliff to where she had been perched on her mare. Quickly, she slid off the bay’s back and tied her reins around a post she had driven into the ground some years before for the purpose. She pushed her way through the long grass and heather to peer over the cliffside, hunkering down to let the long stalks curtain her.

There, among the rocks, far away from the other seals that populated the shore sat a man. He was huge. Even from this distance she could tell he would easily tower over her. His skin was pale and scarred, glistening from the seaspray. His body was all coarse black hair and hard, thick muscle from his broad shoulders to his strong legs. Despite his obvious strength and bulk the way he sat was almost elegant, draped over the stone he was sitting on with the same effortless lounge a seal would. His face looked like it had been chiseled from white mountain rock, as scarred as the rest of him was. His eyes were a bright, oddly metallic silver and his short hair black as shale.

There were two things that stuck out about his appearance, aside from his sheer size and obvious power he exuded. His arms were gloved from the very tips of his fingers to around mid-upper arm in interweaving knotwork tattoos. Clearly done with loving detail, and absurdly intricate. Second, an enormous sealskin cloak rested over his shoulders. It didn’t look like any sealskin she’d ever seen, both big enough to wrap up a draft horse and colored differently. Black or dark gray on the back before shading to a lighter gray on the sides, and dappled with dark spots. The flippers hung down over his chest.

It has nearly as much fur as he does. She thought with a small smile.

She sat for a while, head in her hands, listening to him. No human should have been able to sing so enchantingly. Especially not a man who looked so tough and strong. And rather handsome, now that she studied him for a while. She hoped she was able to keep the ditzy look of pleasure off her face. Such a sweet voice for such a strong man.

"Lord, long have I loved you as a selkie on the foam. "I would gladly go and wed ye and be Lady of your home But I cannot go into the ocean, I cannot go into the sea. I would drown beneath your waves, love, if I went along with ye." "Lady, long have I loved you: I would have you for my wife. I shall stay upon your shoreland though it robs me of my life. I will stay one night beside you, never go back to the sea, I will stay and be thy husband though it be the death of me."

Wait…

Her head snapped up suddenly as a thought struck her.

The sealskin…his voice. 

No…it couldn’t be, could it? Surely not.

Argena remembered back to when she had been a child, and her father would tell her and her older brother stories before bed. About faeries and elves, kelpies and the nuckelavee. And…selkies. At the end he’d always told them that there had been fantastical creatures once, a very long time ago, but they had shrunk away from the world as men grew more numerous. It was something she kept in mind even now in her adult life. For example, growing increasingly wary of the odd white horse that lived by a deep pond and always seemed to stare at her whenever she walked by. 

Like it knew she wouldn’t fall for that.

“I didn’t think there were any of you left.” She whispered softly.

It took her a moment to realize he stopped. What’s more, he was staring right at her. His piercing silver eyes met her gold ones, and she felt her heart skip. 

“You may as well come down here, if you’re going to sneak around.” He said, sounding none too pleased about it.

Her mouth went dry as she extracted herself and slowly picked her way down the cliff. Her bare feet sinking into the sand and her skirts billowing in the sea breeze. She stopped a few paces away from him, and he sat up, attentive.

“Do you make a habit of spying on others?”

“Do you make a habit of sitting naked in the middle of nowhere?” She asked back, a little annoyed.

His jaw worked for a few moments before he conceded. “Aye, fair enough..

“I come down to this stretch of beach often.” She explained quickly, not wanting things to be even more awkward. “I heard you singing and stopped to listen. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.” She told him earnestly. 

He inhaled sharply, but his stance relaxed. “It’s been a long time since I heard something like that from a mortal.”

“So you’re not human?”

“No. Of course not.” “Ha! I knew it!” Argena crowed triumphantly. “You are a selkie, aren’t you?.”

Then she paused, and held out a hand. Realizing she may have sounded a little rude.

“It’s an honor to meet you. Don’t misunderstand me. I just…I thought you were all gone. I never would have dreamed in a hundred years that I would meet a real one.”

After a moment he accepted the offered handshake. His was huge and engulfed hers. It was warm and slightly damp. The tattoos were even more intricate up close, and covered his palms as well.

I thought you were all gone.

Her words stuck with the selkie for a moment. He had been under the impression that humans largely didn’t believe in anything magical anymore. As new beliefs swept over the land and as they continued to advance. They were relegated to superstition and fairy tales. Some pockets still believed, of course. Some always would. But most didn’t, and even now he still wasn’t sure of how he felt about it. For all his strength and power, he wasn’t fond of being forgotten. It might be better that way.

But he had to admit it was nice to be recognized. 

“Do you have a name?” She remembered something vaguely, about fae names being important.

He didn’t seem to hold the same truth. “Ferrus. And you?” “Argena. Er, you can just call me Gena, please.”

She sat on the rock next to him as he gazed out to sea, deep in thought. It was a little awkward, and she wondered if she’d offended him somehow.

Good job, Gena. You meet a real magical creature and you piss him off within the first five minutes.

The sun was starting to go down, turning the sand golden and making the water shimmer and flash. The light breeze carried the scent of heather and thistle flowers, mingling with that of the salty ocean air, and the sound of the waves and cries of the gulls overhead were making her drowsy. Finally, he spoke.

“We’re still around. We were never gone. It’s just wiser to keep to yourself these days.”

“Hm?” She looked up at him. He sounded oddly melancholy. “So there’s still selkies around?”

“Not just us. There’s still plenty of…I suppose you would call us mythical beasts now. Dragons and faeries and unicorns and kelpies. Albeit many in lesser numbers. But as I said. It’s just wiser to retreat from the world. There will always be places wild and untouched.”

Gena frowned. “Not all humans would mean to harm you.”

Ferrus nodded in agreement. “I believe you. You are right in front of me after all. We have been sitting here for a good while and yet you haven’t asked to touch my sealskin, or reached out for it.”

“I figured that would have been rude even if you weren’t a selkie, seeing as how we’ve just met. And I promise I have no intention of stealing it. If there was even a chance I could overpower you.”

“There is not. But just by that alone I feel that you are at least somewhat trustworthy.”

She flushed, a bit flattered. “Honestly? I’m just in awe to meet you in the first place. I was raised on all the stories and old tales. I would never dream of taking your sealskin. Has…has anyone tried to, in the past?”

His expression darkened. “Once. My brother stole it from me, and hid it so well I couldn’t find it. I don’t know how, some magic or other. I went to all my other brothers and asked them for help, but none of them would. So I beat the truth of that wretched little bastard. Since then, I haven’t spoken to any of them. So I am amused, if nothing else, that a little mortal woman such as yourself has more respect for me and mine than my own family.”

“I, well…you’re welcome." She couldn't imagine having a family that awful. Hers wasn't perfect. They drove her nuts on occasion, what with her brother treating her like a child at times, her younger sister conspiring to make her chores infinitely longer than needed, and her mother dismissing her as a dreamer with her head in the clouds, constantly pestering her to accept a marriage proposal already. But it wasn't all bad in the slightest, and she loved her family. 

"I don't think mine are anywhere near that bad, but they drive me up a wall too sometimes. I have a brother and a sister. How many siblings do you have?"

"18 brothers."

"18?!"

"One of my brothers has a twin. It would've been 17 otherwise."

"You have 18 brothers and nobody helped you?!"

“Twisted, isn’t it?” He gave her a rueful smile. “You’ve been better to me than all of them. The real foot in the nads is that the one who stole my sealskin was my best friend. There used to be times I’d forget we weren’t twins.”

“I assume you never want to speak to him again.”

“I do not.”

They fell silent again, but this time it was a little more congenial. He decided he liked this mortal woman. She was kind, but not flat. There was a spark in her. Very beautiful too, with those bright gold eyes and long wavy black hair. Her skin was fair but not nearly as much as his. And, he noted almost absently, she had a very nice figure.

Ferrus held a section of his sealskin out to her. “You can feel it if you’d like.”

Gena stared at it in surprise before looking back up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’m offering it to you.”

“Ah…alright then.”

She had been curious, and so reached out to brush her hand against it. It didn’t feel at all like she was expecting. It was covered in thick, dense fur. The section he’d offered had been sitting in the sea spray, so it was slick, smooth, and almost oily. It felt nice against her hand, and she stroked it a few times like she was petting it.

“Not what you expected?”

“No, but it feels nice. It’s so smooth too. I bet it’s really comfortable to curl up under.”

That got his first real smile out. “It rather is. The waters I tend to frequent are very cold. Even more so than here.”

“Do you not live around here?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t, for a long time. I may come back though. This is my homeland in a way. I prefer it here over anywhere else, but I wished to disappear for a long while.”

“This would be the first place your family looked?”

No reply this time, but he nodded.

“What else do you know about me?”

“About selkies you mean? Well…” She put a finger to her lower lip as she thought for a moment. “I heard one version of the tale that said you couldn’t be on land past midnight or you would die. But I never thought that made any sense. When would you be able to turn into a human when you took the skin off otherwise?”

“Why indeed?” And she felt a little happy flutter as she saw she’d made him smile again. Ferrus was a rather dour selkie. “What else?”

“I knew about your singing. Although that also varies from story to story. And I know a lot of stories about humans stealing sealskins and forcing the selkie to marry them. I never liked those. And I know that selkies are said to be indistinguishable from real humans underneath, except for all being very good looking.”

“My brothers were all very aware of that little tidbit. They seemed to think I didn’t fit the bill.”

“Well they’re not the ones who you’d want to be attracted to you anyway. They’re your family. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a very handsome man. Er, selkie.”

Ferrus laughed. It sounded vaguely like a seal’s bark, but warm. “You don’t mince words, do you? You’re a very honest woman.”

“Just telling it as I see it. Besides, your family sounds terrible.”

She glanced up at the sky again, before suddenly standing upright. 

“Damn it all! It’s getting late. I should get going so I’m not going home in the dark. Thank you for talking, Ferrus. I’ll never forget it.” Gena gave him a small curtsy.

“...I will be here tomorrow, if you’d like to continue this. Gena.” He offered slowly. It had been a very long time since he’d spoken to anyone. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. The sound of another voice. Hers was sweet and silvery and calm.

“Wait, really? Sure. I would love to talk with you again. Imagine me befriending a real selkie.” And she laughed with the sheer joyful absurdity of it. 

“Befriend?”

“Why not? I wouldn’t mind being your friend.” She smiled at him, and began making her way up the cliff. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Ferrus.”

“Aye. You as well. Stay safe, Gena.” He called after her. Then she was gone, disappearing over the ledge with a final wave of goodbye.

He lingered on the rock long after the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, pondering what had just happened. It had been…centuries since he’d last actually talked to someone. The last time had been when he’d gotten his sealskin back. He gripped it tighter, pulling the precious thing more around his shoulders. Time had passed by without his notice. And it seemed he’d grown much lonelier than he wanted to admit to himself. His decision had been spur of the moment, but it might be nice to have a companion again.

Pulling his sealskin over himself fully, he finally slid into the water and disappeared into the deep. But he’d be back for sure. Maybe he’d sing the rest of that song for Gena, next time he saw her.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Hello! Incoming Arthur x fem! reader request 🙏🏼

I got the idea from a little side dialogue where Arthur complains to Hosea that his back is sore and when Hosea offers to take care of it, Arthur declines lol.

BUT I was thinking that Arthur and reader are good friends. After noticing on their way back from a job that his back is a mess, she offers to massage him. He hesitates at first but obvi accepts 😏 maybe he lays down on the bedroll and she straddles him to massage him? or something tamer like he sits in front of her and she takes care of him that way?

The Guise of Night

Summary: Arthur got hurt and you decided to help him.

Warnings: Just your regular fluff!

Word Count: 3,057

A/N: I didn't die...again...I promise! I certainly hope this one lives up to expectations. It's your choice on what Arthur does next at the end...

“Arthur?” 

The outlaw’s wayward thoughts centered him back to reality, at least the reality of the sharp, nagging pain that jabbed the very center of his spine with every other rhythmic hoofbeat as his horse trotted along. And unfortunately, that was quite often. 

His attempt to be stoic about it was failing rather quickly in your presence, in case you were to tease him about how he received this injury; his faithful steed tripped over a tree root while running and sent Arthur flying—his landing unfortunately onto a sharp rock, enough to knock the wind from his chest and sending stars to erupt in his spinning vision. He’s of course had his fair share of falls, but this...this was by far one of the worst. It was by some stupid miracle he wasn’t paralyzed. 

Admittedly, he’d reached behind him in attempts to soothe the tender swelling beneath his vest more often than he’d realized, thus clearly showing his discomfort despite being so nonchalant about it. 

“You alright?” you asked, keeping your mare to trot in sync with him. 

He sighed. No use in continuing to feign. “Rocks ain’t exactly soft,” he muttered. “Pretty damn lucky I didn’t break somethin’.” 

You glanced at his lower back with a furrowed brow, and then back to him directly. “Do you need to stop for a minute? You look too uncomfortable.” 

Shaking his head, he tilted his head toward the path ahead. “Nah, we ain’t too far out from camp now. No point in stoppin’.” 

“If you insist then,” 

The ride back to camp wasn’t even twenty more minutes. But to Arthur, it felt like hours. Even the slow, easy trot his horse maintained was almost too much. Still, he managed to make it back, albeit having trouble dismounting and bringing his normal supplies back into camp. The stiffness in his gait was all too noticeable, yet thankfully no one else but Hosea mentioned his discomfort. 

And of course, Hosea with his expansive knowledge of remedies offered to help, but Arthur declined, stating he just needed some stew and a good night’s rest to be as fit as a fiddle. 

Late that night, he wished he’d stocked up on some health cures when passing through Valentine earlier. 

It was fairly late when he’d sat up from his failed attempts to sleep, rubbing his sore eyes and his even more sore back—and wincing. Without any immediate relief, he was definitely struggling more than he’d like to admit. 

Perhaps a bit of alcohol was to help. 

He leaned over his cot, reaching for the worn leather satchel rather slowly and stiffly, digging through the multitude of belongings until his fingers found purchase of a cool bottle neck. He grasped it and whipped it out, sitting up faster than he intended. 

Arthur hissed out a swear vulgar enough to make a nun blush, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. 

“Arthur? Was that you?” 

He stiffened at his own name, then immediately relaxed after recognizing your voice. He then peered out from his overhang to see into the darkness. Silhouettes of tents and inky black trees in the background lay unmoving until your figure appeared in his sights. 

Why were you up this late too? 

“Yeah,” he responded quietly. 

“Why are you up this late?” You asked, your silhouette moving closer to the wagon that housed his belongings. 

“Could ask ya the same,” he joked, though the pain was clear in his voice. “Can’t sleep with this God-awful ache.” 

You hummed so quietly he thought he imagined it. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched you step even closer, and the gleam of the half-moon reflected onto something in your hand. He at first thought you somehow had the same thought of late-night drinking, only to realize the bottle was much smaller. 

“I found this,” you held up the bottle. As he opened his mouth to ask, you continued. “It ain’t a health cure, but it’s liniment.” 

“Liniment?” He repeated with confusion. 

“For muscle pain,” you clarified. “I got it from some fancy doctor down in Saint Denis.” 

“You was bringin’ it over here?” He continued. 

“Yeah…” you said, shuffling even closer so now that you were just barely under the canvas. “I couldn’t sleep so I was rearranging some of my stuff, then I found it. I wasn’t thinking you would be awake, just wanted to drop it off.” 

He peered up at you—well, your silhouette anyhow, the faint silver moonbeam doinglittle to show him more than the soft billow of your clothing in a gentle breeze. He then reached over to his oil lamp, igniting the flame to burn at a low golden flicker. Your figure illuminated immediately—your torso draped in a fine silk nightgown, let your upper torso protected by a shawl. The bottle remained in your hand and you held it up, the liquid sloshing inside. 

He plucked it from your hand, eyes skimming over the slightly faded label. It mentioned rubbing on the skin for instant relief. He’d heard about this but never cared enough to try and obtain it, since health cures were easier. “So I jus’ slap it on?” 

You nodded. “I’ve used it myself a few times, works like a charm in taking the edge off.” 

With a low hum, Arthur’s eyes swept over the bottle again. He supposed he could try it; it couldn’t hurt any more than he was. “Well, thank you.” 

“Of course,” you said with a smile. “Uh...this may sound odd, but mind if I put it on for ya?” 

His breath hitched at that. He of course wasn’t a stranger to women offering a service for him, usually a young bath girl in hopes to make a quick buck by providing sweet talk and a nice wash on the rare occasion he’d get to indulge. Fleeting moments that he’d soon forget about with a move to the next state over.  

You were not as such, opting to ground your finances in a rather morally questionable way, just like the rest of them. He’d seen you shoot lawmen in the blink of an eye, pickpocket unsuspecting inebriated men in the saloon, lasso a wild Mustang and ride its bucks until the beast foamed and sleek with sweat, too exhausted to continue the fight. A woman of civilization would cringe at your acts. 

Yet, that was the furthest thing on his mind. 

A wild woman you were, but not without a tender heart. The kindness you’d shown him since you first joined was much more than he deserved, yet you never relented.  

There was always that one question, “Why?” he asked. 

“I learned a few massage techniques along my travels,” you explain. “Don’t have the occasion to use it often enough.” 

“Uh,” his eyes swept across the trodden grass beneath his feet, a wave of warmth rushing to his face. To even perform something so...intimate, it seemed improper. But with the pain that didn't seem to alleviate, what further harm could it truly do? He finally shrugged and said, “Sure,” before handing the bottle back to you. 

A smooth smile appeared on your lips, and you gestured for him to remove his shirt and lay down. He began to do so, rather slowly and awkwardly, knowing your eyes were on him as he revealed his top half for the first time, too afraid to even attempt to look at the damage in the mirror. Carefully he laid down on his stomach, skin prickling from the odd sensation of being...exposed...to you, in such a vulnerable position. 

He heard you step closer, your presence hovering over him as you presumably observed his back. “Jesus, Arthur...” you murmured. 

His head peeked up at that. “Can’t imagine it looks pretty.” 

“Unless you call a bruise ‘pretty’,” you amusingly replied. “Surprised there ain’t any blood.” 

“You n’ me both,” 

The sudden touch of your hand made him flinch. Your fingers were surprisingly soft and light, dragging down along the expanse of his back, and halted right at the edge of his tender flesh. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable agonizing pain. Instead, your fingertip circled, still with featherlight pressure, around the area. 

“Lots of swelling here...” you observed, before Arthur heard the unmistakable yanking of the cork from the glass bottle. A few seconds passed before cool liquid dripped onto his back. 

Your palm rested on his spine before you began to move in a circular motion, each pass becoming bigger than the last. The liniment spread along easily, its cooling sensation spreading to soothe his angry wound. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, thankful the expected pain had been dulled. 

What happened next was unexpected. 

He felt his cot shift slightly with your weight as you straddled his thighs. His head shot up and his heart hammered, your name sliding from his lips in surprise. 

“Shh,” you cooed, reaching to pat his shoulder. “Just relax, okay?” 

This was completely new, and any other time he would have immediately stood and left. But your voice, your touch, soothed him just like this liniment was doing to his aching back. He had no reason not to trust you, after all. 

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he replied. 

“Good, I’ll work up here first,” you patted his shoulder again, before both hands were placed against the swell of muscle on either side. The pressure was slight as you began to work, kneading and pushing along his body like bread dough. 

Bath girls have done this countless times, but your technique was different. It wasn’t just rubbing, it felt much more complex; managing to hit every pit of tension he held. A twinge of pain that soothed itself almost instantly with just the right amount of pressure. 

With each stroke he felt himself relax even more, so much that he could have melted into a puddle if it were physically possible. The breath he released rattled with a low groan. 

“You alright?” You quietly asked, hesitant with your movement. 

“‘Course,” he rasped. “Ain’t ever felt so damn good in my life.” 

“Ah, don’t exaggerate,” you giggled lightly. 

“I ain’t,” Arthur assured you. “Never had anything like this before.” 

“Then you haven’t lived,” you replied, steadily moving to his mid back, dragging your palms perpendicular to either side of his spine. “The bath girls do a decent job, but nothing close to this.” 

“No kiddin’,” he groaned, falling deeper with such ease. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly felt this peaceful, if at all. 

The conversation quieted down as you methodically worked lower along his back, taking extra care to work out any “knots”, as you called them, to find that he was riddled with such. Every individual release felt like heaven; his own body almost gelatinizing beneath your capable hands. 

Hell, if it hadn’t been for your occasional shift upon his thighs, he would’ve fallen asleep.  

Although as relaxed as he was, he was still very aware of how you positioned yourself atop him. It’d been years since a woman had gotten this close without the temptation of money. You didn’t ask for compensation, instead just offered without a second thought. 

He often wondered why you chose to be so good to him, Lord knows he doesn’t deserve it. Favors often didn’t come without a price in this world. Yet you never asked nor expected anything from him, an almost suspicious at first, yet pleasant, surprise. 

The thought, however, crossed Arthur’s mind more than he’d like to admit. 

But how would that appear to the others? To you? Would you get the wrong idea? Would you think he was sweet on you? What if you didn’t like it? 

The sensation of your thumb grazing across a particularly thick knot spiraled him back to the present, a soft hiss sliding from his teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured gently, the pressure lightening. “Is that better?” 

“Yeah…” he sighed out, closing his eyes as the lump of tension dissipated. That was the relationship between the two of you, he thought. Him; a grizzled outlaw hardened by life’s woes. Then there was you…a unique combination resulting from the world’s cold abrasiveness, yet still retained a gentleness that belonged to a more civilized pathway, a balance to soothe his rough exterior. 

You were…nothing short of amazing. 

His entire body flinched involuntarily when you’d reached low enough to handle his injury. Your hand stopped at his sudden jerk, hovering just above the bruised skin. 

“Easy there,” you cooed, your voice still soft. “Let me know if it’s too much…” a tender graze navigated the swelling. Though still sore, the liniment allowed it to be bearable.  

He breathed, slowly, attempting to convince his body to relax once again. “Go on,” he rumbled. “Ain’t gonna get much worse.” 

The pressure was slight, almost like a tickle. The movement was different, though, circular and drawing outwards rather than the constant crisscrossing of your previous paths. It almost seemed as if you were drawing a sun on his back. 

“This is just to aid the swelling,” you explained, his unasked question now answered. “It opens up more space for drainage.” 

Seems like massage was much more than just relaxing folk. He had to wonder where exactly you learned this from, and why you chose to rough it as an outlaw rather than living a much more comfortable life with such valuable knowledge. 

So he decided to voice it. “How come you ain’t makin’ money on this somewhere else?” 

You giggled, sliding your palm through the very core of the pain and to the side, as if attempting to drag it away. “You mean, ‘why not satisfy countless men with my hands when I’d rather be here?’” 

You were good at reading his mind sometimes, perhaps too good. It wasn’t exactly his intention, but the thought of you doing this to a stranger didn’t settle right in his belly. “Uh…” he huffed, trying to keep from bracing again. 

“Perhaps I could, should I decide I’m done sleeping in the dirt and robbing rich folk of their precious pearls,” you continued, the smile audible in your voice. “But where’s the fun in that?” 

Arthur chuckled. “Wouldn’t exactly call this life, ‘fun’.” 

“It has its moments,” you replied, “Especially when Dutch’s brute of a Lieutenant gets a drink or two and loosens up.” 

Arthur snorted, turning his head to give you a sideways look. “Now I ain’t always a brute.” 

“Course not, not when you have some booze,” you joked, grinning down at him. “You’re a lot more fun that way.” 

“Y’ think so?” Arthur drawled, a smile of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“From the escapade I heard you had with Lenny,” you recounted. “Stirrin’ up enough trouble for the lawmen to chase you outta town!” 

“I made it out, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “Honestly, I might’ve gone too far that night...all for the sake of forgettin’ ‘bout Micah.” 

“Well...it ain’t very often we get to let loose, you know?” you said. “Shame we can’t do it more often.” 

“Would be nice,” Arthur agreed, though internally cringed at the memory of that night in the saloon. “…Maybe.” 

“Well, wouldn’t be bad if it was just you and me,” you say thoughtfully. “I’d keep ya in line.” 

“That so—” he groaned and tensed as you hit a particularly sore spot. 

Your pressure lightened significantly, easing him back into a state of relaxation. Your hips shifted and he could feel your presence hovering closer over him, your breath just ghosting along the shell of his ear as you whispered, “I know I can…” 

For whatever godly reason, this action manifested a knot in his belly. A knot that stirred an emotion he’d locked away so long ago, it was almost foreign. His heart began to pound. Not out of anxiety, but a rare excitement. 

Just as the feeling began to swell, you seated yourself back to your original position as if you’d never moved in the first place, focusing right back to his injury. 

Arthur was left breathless, his mind abuzz. Why on earth did that happen to him just now? He wanted to ask what exactly you meant by that, but deep down in his gut, he knew exactly what it truly meant. 

How was it that you out all people would elicit such a wayward thought when he’d attempted to hide it for years? You…a woman of such strength and kindness and a spitfire attitude who would boldly refuse a comfortable civilian life to live in the dirt with the rest of them. 

It seemed as if he’d answered his own question. 

“You doing alright?” You asked, breaking his train of thought. 

“Uh…” he hesitated, wondering what to say next. “Sure.” 

“Pressure too much?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head lightly. “Jus’…relaxin’, is all.” 

The exact words were lost to him. Hell, there was no proper form of thought to even remotely describe the tornado whirling and wreaking havoc in his mind currently. Confusion, happiness, contentedness, nostalgic, and maybe even…forlorn. 

It never truly occurred to him just how much he missed the essence of intimacy, having convinced himself he was unworthy and undeserving. Still is, really, how you willingly offered to cater to his comfort was still a complete mystery to him. 

“May…may I ask you somethin’?” 

There was a slight pause in your movement before you continued. “Yeah?” 

“Why are ya doin’ this for me, really?” He inquired. “Coulda jus’ left me with that concoction.” 

A small giggle curled into the still air like fine smoke. Your hands smoothed up his back and back down, gliding through his muscles with no effort. “Well, I suppose you might already know,” your tone held a slight playfulness to it, like a teasing child. 

And just at an instant, your weight disappeared from him. He blinked and turned to look at you as you straightened the ruffles from your nightgown. You peered up and smiled innocently at him, except the telltale gleam in your eye held another story. “See you in the morning, Mr. Morgan,” you say, swiveling on your heel to sidle towards your sleeping area. 

He had half a mind to tell you to stay. Instead, he muttered a flustered, “thank you,” before attempting to redress his torso. 

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2K

Notes: Welcome to the first chapter of this literal dream hahaha I really hope you guys can enjoy this fic.

Son of the darkness masterlist

Main Masterlist

The female rushed through the dark hallways, the soft rustle of her nightgown and the sound of her bare feet on the marble floor echoing on the walls, the light peeking from under Loralen’s door, the High Lord of The Court Of Shadows, her hands pushing the double doors open as she entered the room, the weak figure of her Lord laying peacefully in bed, his hazel eyes landing on the young general, one of the few people he trusted.

“Sweet Y/N, I don’t think I will be able to stay in this life much longer.” The old fae held Y/N’s hand, she sat by his side, her eyes filled with tears as she watched how his chest barely moved when he breathed, more than a High Lord, he was like a father to her, have taken care of her when her mother, the previous general, and war advisor, died in battle. “You need to go and find my grandson, my daughter Eletha ran away from home many centuries ago, and with her death, the crown will be his.”

“But where do I find him?” She knew that the High Lord’s daughter had disappeared even before she was born, and in the 450 years she’d been alive, no one had a clue of where she might be.

“I’ve been sending spies to try and locate them, I didn’t tell you because I knew you would try to take matters into your own hands and look for them yourself, but now you’re the only one who can find him, we can’t leave this court without its ruler. The last thing they were able to find is that Eletha died and left a son, he lives somewhere in the continent of Prythian, I know you never left our home, but you’re the only one I trust to do this.”

Y/N nodded, she was loyal to her court and her home, if the High Lord thought that she was the only capable of doing this mission, she would go, he gave a few more details, about what the boy might look like and where he might be, Y/N was going to follow rumors and she hoped that they were true, for the sake of her court.

On the next day, she was ready to leave, her horse was straddled with her bags, and she had the royal seal on her chest, indicating that this was an official mission, she was wearing her black pants with high boots, a leathery long-sleeved shirt with a corset and her holsters, where her dagger rested peacefully on her tight, on her back, two long swords and a heavy cloak covering her body, her long silky black hair braided behind her back.

Midnight puff with her nose, the black mare ready to leave as Y/N jumped on top of her, her big hooves pounding against the floor as the two started their journey. It was a five-day journey until she reached the border, once there, she would have to travel by ship until she got to Prythian’s border, on what’s known to be the Autumn Court, there she would have to go all the way up to the Night Court and pray to the Mother that she’s lucky enough to find the boy.

The Shadows territory was the biggest one, in the war for human freedom, the Nightfall army was almost erased, being among the fiercest defenders of mortal liberty, all the enemies turned their weapons their way, after the war, Loralen had so much work to do in rebuilding their strength and defending his people, so with the help of the great Sephiran coven, the seven witches made a spell, covering the territory in darkness, those who didn’t know would think that nothing exists, but as the years passed, they rose again, the Nightfall army was bigger than it has ever been and people were protected. Hiding wasn’t a weak move as some may think, hiding was necessary, and the High Lord wouldn’t allow his people to suffer from hunger and sickness ever again.

Every place she went, people were more than happy to receive her, the respected General and High Lord’s protege, she was kind to the people but ruthless on the battlefield, Y/N stayed with some families along the way, they gave her more food to continue her journey, and as she noticed, she was almost in Prythian. The ship would shake her stomach in every direction, making her feel a little restless as she admired the view, even if she traveled all the Court’s territory, she had never been this far away from her home.

“Be careful, some say that these forests are cursed and they devour those who don’t belong here.” The captain of the ship warned her two days later as she grabbed Midnight’s reins and walked out of the ship, she had a map with her, to guide her around, she took a look at it before she motioned for the mare to start to walk, as the pair entered the forest, she felt a weird sensation creeping in the back of her mind like something was watching her, she lifted the hood of her cloak, hiding her face and then grabbing her dagger.

As the day gave space to the night, she decided to stop, making a fire and taking some of the food, she sat, watching the fire pit, the flames dancing from one side to another, that same feeling of being observed now stronger as the flames grew, she quickly got up, stepping away from them, the heat so strong that almost burned her skin, she reached for one of her swords, whatever it was, should be easy to deal with.

“What are you doing here?” A male voice sounded from the darkness in front of her, she focused her gaze in the direction that the sound came from, and as the darkness seemed to dissipate she was able to spot the figure standing in the dark, the male was tall and slim, something told her that it was him messing with her fire, she moved her arm, seeing his shape perfectly leaning on a tree, she threw it, the blade pinning him in place while she extended one of her hands, the mist of shadows started to appear in her palm, like a river, they flowed until they reached him, she was feeling really good today, so she only took away his vision.

“WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?” The male growled angrily as she approached him, his face moving in each direction trying to see something.

“If you’ll be a good male and give me the information I need, I might give your vision back.” She stood close to him, removing her dagger and dragging the male closer to the fire, he had white skin and bright red hair, unlike the majority of her people that had different shades of black hair, it was so beautiful.

“Why would I help you, stranger?” He sarcastically laughed, he was confident even when he didn’t have the upper hand.

“Because I can make this permanent, and you’ll be wandering around, blind for eternity.” She taunted and he stiffed, he was starting to take her words very seriously. “I need to go to the Night Court, do you know any quick way to get there?” The male’s face contorted into an angry expression once more.

“Of course, you would be a Night Court freak, my father will enjoy knowing that Rhysand is allowing his pets to run freely in other courts.” The disgust was evident in the redheaded male and Y/N wondered what might have happened between them for such hatred towards the unknown male.

“Watch your mouth or I could take that away from you too.” She warned. “The sooner you help me, the sooner you’ll be free and I’ll be out of your way.” She paced around him, leaving him confused, her location a mystery to him.

“There are some hidden spaces between the folds of space and time that can take you there, I know one that is close to here, I can take you there. But give me back my vision.” He demanded, Y/N looked at the desperate male, the way his eyes flickered in every direction, and then the mist Around him was gone, his eyes focused on her.

“Don’t try anything funny or I’m killing you.” She simply said, her expression blank as she moved to get her things. “And we're going now. So get up.”

“So bossy. Are you like this in bed too?” The male asked, a cocky smirk on his lips as she rolled her eyes, long ago she had discovered that her silence was more powerful to mess with male ego than snapping back, so she kept quiet, her things ready to leave. “I’m Eris, do I get to know your name?”

“Knowing my name will make you walk faster?” His smirk grew as he looked at her up and down, and he nodded slowly. “I’m Daera. Now walk!” Eris did as he was told, afraid that she would take away any more of his senses, they weren’t that far away from the portal, only thirty minutes walking and they would be there.

She kept a close eye on him as they walked, he was holding a bright flame in his hand, illuminating the way, she could walk perfectly fine in the dark, one of the few abilities she inherited from her people, they were able to see a little bit better in the dark than other people, and this was always a vantage for her. Eris stopped in front of nothing and she rose an eyebrow.

“It’s here, if you walk a little further you will find it.”

“Then go ahead.” She pointed her dagger to him and Eris held his hand up in defeat.

“I can’t simply go in another court territory like you, and I’m not in the mood to bring problems to my father. So I can only go this far, and have fun on the other side.” Eris finished, already turning his back to her, winnowing away as he did so, leaving the scent of burned wood behind. She sighed, walking to where he pointed, at first she didn’t see anything, but as she walked she saw a path, she climbed Midnight’s back, hitting her belly softly with her feet, the animal sprinting along the way. She didn’t know how long the two walked but she finally came to an end, reaching an open field, the night sky almost gone as a new day began.

She had no idea of where she was, and as she walked, the only thing she could see was green prairies on every side, she huffed annoyed, stopping at a lake to drink water and eat something, the mare drank water and Y/N fed her with apples.

“Ugh, I think we’re lost, I should’ve asked for Evanore’s help with some kind of locating spell.” Midnight looked at her and she closed her eyes, feeling her shoulders heavy with tiredness. Evanore was the youngest of the seven from the Sephiran coven, and Y/N’s best friend for as long she can remember, but there was some information that she couldn’t share even with her, she wished she could have brought her friend with her.

Eva was kind, and a really powerful witch, her healing powers were the strongest she has ever seen, her sisters kept her hidden from those who wanted to use her for evil, her powers were able to bring people back from death, and if this kind of power fell in the wrong hands, the consequences could be devastating. Y/N reached for the protection pendant that Eva gave her, the blue stone calming her restless mind and bringing her some comfort as she got walking again, it was like her best friend was there with her.

Y/N and Midnight walked for days until they found something, or better yet, something found her, she was resting, heating her hands in a makeshift fireplace, it was night, the Night Court sky was really beautiful, the stars shone bright, and each one unique, she counted three shooting stars as she observed the sky, her eyes feeling heavy as she drifted slowly to sleep, too tired to pay attention to her surroundings, if she paid enough attention, she would’ve seen the two figures looming in the dark.

[iamfruitie]

Kinktober 2024 Day 10

Double Penetration - Dantimadmare

Mare groaned low in his throat as he slowly sank himself more and more onto Dark’s cock. Dark rubbed Mare’s sides, adjusting a little to have Mare’s back resting more comfortably against his chest. Anti knelt between Mare’s legs and rubbed at his thighs. Mad was at his side and kissing his cheek. Mare had requested something special that night, and the other three were making sure it went as smoothly as possible. 

All four of them were on their large bed and without any clothing. After plenty of playing around before and after the request, they were getting to the main event. 

“How ya feeling?” Anti asked, hands moving away to take the bottle of lube from Mad’s hand. 

“Good.” Mare hummed. 

“Ready or more?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Gonna start with just a finger.” Anti coated his hand with the lube and returned the bottle to Mad. “Remember what to say if it’s too much?” 

“Mangle,” Mare smirked a little at the chosen safe word. Sometimes, they were a little cheeky with them. 

“It’s adorable hearing you being all soft, dove.” Dark teased while Anti shifted how he was kneeling so he could put his hand between Mare’s legs. He slowly coaxed a finger into him, feeling it brush against Dark’s cock as well. 

“You get soft me in only two cases.” Anti counted with the fingers on his other hand. “Drunk and trying new sex stuff.” 

“And during cuddles,” Mad added. “So, technically, three cases.” 

“I will fuck you next, Maddy.” Anti ‘threatened’ with a grin. Mad just chuckled and nuzzled his face against Mare’s neck, tilting his head to add a new mark to the skin. 

“Center of attention, being ignored.” Mare played up his fake offended tone. 

“That’s usually Anti’s complaint.” Dark joked while moving his hands to squeeze Mare’s chest. 

“Is today make fun of Anti day?” Anti scoffed, working a second finger in and moving them around to stretch Mare open more, earning a new low groan from him. 

“You mean every day?” Mare winked.

“Looks like he’s ready for even more,” Dark suggested, an almost growl in his voice. 

“How fast do you think we can make Mare cum?” Anti suddenly asked. 

“I usually last a good while,” Mare stated. 

“I have an idea. If Mare can last a full minute with this, I’ll suck his dick every night for a week.” 

“You say that like you wouldn’t already, Sparky.” 

“Oh, we are so doing my idea now.” Anti’s own growl was stronger. “Maddy, you still all good and slick from us playing before they got home?” 

“I-” Mad wasn’t prepared for him to get involved in said plan, face flushing red. “Probably?”

“Good. Darky, mind laying on your back?” Anti slowly pulled his fingers out, getting the lube again and coating his cock with it this time. 

“Understood.” Dark caught on quickly. Mare had a guess, and his chuckle showed he was more than down for it. 

Dark moved so he and Mare were somewhat flat on the bed. Anti went in closer and caught Mare in a kiss as he pushed in, wanting to taste the sounds he made from that stretch and being so full. Mare did not disappoint as he gasped and grabbed Anti’s arms, letting out a mixture of a whine and moan. Anti giggled and leaned back, rolling his hips and grinning when Dark did the same. 

“Oh, damn~” Mare moaned fully.

“Come here, Maddy,” Anti said while grabbing the lube one more time, using it to coat Mare’s cock, resisting the urge to tease when that got a pleasure-filled grunt from Mare. 

“Okay?” Mad was too busy watching to realize what Anti’s plan was. “What am I doing?”

“You’re going to sit on Mare’s cock. We’re going to ruin him in thirty seconds.” Anti explained.

“If even that.” Dark chuckled and adjusted his and Mare’s legs so Anti could help guide Mad to straddle Mare’s hips. Mad’s hands went on Dark’s, both now holding Mare’s chest. He was awkwardly further away from the bed than usual for this, so he didn’t have a lot of legs left to move himself. 

“I got you.” Anti wrapped an arm around Mad’s waist and lifted him, using a hand to keep Mare’s cock still as he helped Mad go down. Mare and Mad let out matching moans, but Mare’s was a bit louder. 

“How’s being the center of attention?” Dark asked. 

“So much in the best way,” Mare answered between pants. 

“Ready to rumble?” Anti’s question was for all of them but mostly for Mare and Mad. 

“Ready.” Was the unanimous answer.

“Let’s rock.” Anti started bucking his hips and helped Mad bounce. Dark timed himself so that when Anti was moving back, he pushed in, making it so Mare was always filled. 

“Holy fucking shit~!” Mare moaned out a string of curses, not knowing what to do with his hands. He held Mad’s hips and Dark’s arm, then went to Mad’s thigh and Dark’s side, sadly unable to reach Anti in this position, but the noises Anti made showed that he was more than happy with what he was doing. Mare watched as Anti whispered something to Mad, an evil smile on his lips as he spoke. Mad’s blush managed to deepen, and he nodded before pulling a hand away to start stroking himself. 

“Mare~” Mad moaned the name. “You-You feel so good~”

That was so not fair.

“Fuck!” Mare’s dull nails dug into whatever skin he had managed to hold. “Fuck!” The next curse came out louder when Dark and Anti started thrusting harder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He couldn’t stop himself as a long moan followed his chant. 

“Prove me right, Mare.” Anti giggled. 

“Let us hear you cum.” Dark added to the teasing, talking right into Mare’s ear.

Mare managed a few breaths before his next moan came out, voice cracking from how strong it was, and was already cumming. Mad tensed up at that rush of warmth and whimpered when Anti had him stop moving and pulled his hand away from his cock. 

“Don’t worry, Maddy, you’ll get your turn soon enough. Just gotta let Mare get a quick break,” Anti promised with a kiss. 

“I won’t need long if you two keep that up.” Mare weakly laughed. 

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

@dungeon-dragons-dragons

[thatpokelbitch]

THE PEOPLE ASK FOR ANGST? THE PEOPLE GET THE ANGST!!

It was a calm day in Branch’s bunker, very little going on, Bruce was relaxing on the sofa, just reading a book, while humming a small tune.

Floyd walks into the living room and sits down

“Hey pink-stink, what's up?” Bruce asks casually

Floyd responds meekly “Nothi...nothing much y-you?” Floyd feels quite tense, but Bruce doesn't notice this.

“Ehh, nothing much, been a pretty boring day” Bruce says nonchalantly

Floyd’s speech is still meek “Oh..uhm, okay...“

Bruce, noticing Floyd’s meek and cautious voice, and puts down his book “Uhm, hey, are you good dude?”

“Me-me?” Floyd asks, confused

“Yeah, are you good?” Bruce asks again, growing more concerned

“Uh...yeah.” Floyd responds, slightly brushing off his fears, he looks away from Bruce and turns his gaze to the ground, looking a bit more sad than before. 

Bruce notices this, and gets worried. “...Floyd?”

Floyd doesn’t respond

“Floyd...are you doing alright, man...you can talk to me...“

Floyd starts sniffling, getting overwhelmed, prompting Bruce to turn Floyds head to face him, and tears are streaming down his face, prompting Bruce to hug him tightly in an attempt to comfort him

“Floyd, what happened, bud?” Bruce asks, gently

A lump forms the back of Floyds throat, and he trembles. “I’ve be-bb-been ha-ha-ha-h-having...“ he stumbles over his words and hyperventilates lightly for a few seconds to calm down

“Hey, take your time, it’s alright, bud. I’m here.” Bruce says, reassuring Floyd

Floyd takes a few deep breaths to steady himself, and it works somewhat

“I’ve b–be-been having night-m-m-mares about being back in the bo-bot-bottle!” he says, getting misty-eyed

“Oh, Floyd...“ Bruce says gently and sympathetically, feeling bad for him

Floyd dives into Bruces arms and cries into his chest, letting out a number of choked sobs

“There, there, little bro...you’re alright now, they can’t hurt you, it’s okay...“ Bruce says, hugging Floyd tightly

Floyd starts wiping the tears from his eyes and looks up at Bruce, and call out for Bruce gently, still choked up

“Yeah, bud?” Bruce asks gently

Floyd, regaining some of his composure, manages to say “Can you..uhm...actually no, it’s stupid, nevermind…” He stops himself, getting embarrassed

“Ah, come on, Floyd, it can’t be that stupid, what is it?” Bruce says, reassuring him again

“...Floyd, please, you can tell me, It’s alright.” Bruce tries to push his request out of him

“Can...can you hold me?” Floyd says meekly

“Hold you? Huh?” Bruce asks in confusion

“Yeah, it cheered me up when we were kids, when Grandma or John held me...you know? It made me feel safe and less small.” Floyd says, blushing a bit from embarrassment

“I mean, hey, if it makes you feel better, then sure. C’mere, bud.” Bruce pats his lap, inviting Floyd to cuddle

Floyd climbs into Bruce's lap and cuddles up with him, content, and Bruce starts rocking Floyd in his arms like a baby

Bruce starts humming a soft tune to soothe Floyd’s nerves, and he continues humming for a few minutes until Floyd lets out a small yawn

“Bruce...“ Floyd says, getting a bit tired

“Yeah?” Bruce says, relaxed and content that Floyds more comfortable

“Bet it ain’t that much of a boring day now, huh?” Floyd says, smiling

“Heh heh, that’s a bet you win, bud.” Bruce says to him, as he starts drifting off to sleep and snoring

Bruce lays him on the couch and puts a small blanket over him and ruffles his hair, prompting Floyd to crack a small smile in his sleep

Branch walks into the room “Uhh, hey, what's happening here?” he says, puzzled

“Hm?” Bruce asks

“I heard crying.” Branch says, concerned

“Oh, right, that...Floyd just uh...needed to vent.” Bruce says sheepishly

“He’s...he’s asleep though?” Branch asks, confused

“Yeah.” Bruce says

“I thought you said he was crying, how is he asleep all of a sudden?” Branch questions

“Basically what happened is he walked in, he sounded pretty tense, so I asked what the problem was, then cue the waterworks, I managed to calm him down enough for him to doze off.”

“Uh huh...and how’d you do that?” Branch asks

“Well, he asked me to hold him an-” Bruce explains

Branch interrupts “Hold on, pause. Hold him? What do you mean?” he asks, extremely confused by this point.

“Yeah, he said it made him feel safe when we were kids, so I started rocking him a little bit in my arms, then he went to sleep. I can’t lie, it was pretty adorable to watch.” Bruce says, chuckling a little

“Oh, right then. Why was he crying anyhow?” Branch asks, getting curious

Bruce sighs “He’s still having nightmares about when he was still in the bottle, thinking he's still there…”

Branch looks slightly saddened after hearing this “Ah, I see…”

“Yeah, this will probably be happening for like...a while.” Bruce says, sadly

“I mean, to be fair, he did go through a lot, he LITERALLY had the life sucked out of him, he DIED. He must have been terrified, man…” Branch says,, waving his arms around a bit

“Yeah, I suppose you have a point there.” Bruce says in agreement

“Look, either way,  how long do we think these nightmares will be happening for?” Branch asks, becoming more serious

“I would imagine a couple a few more weeks, unfortunately, but...I can’t blame him.” Bruce says getting slightly sombre

Branch sighs in despair “Yeah, that...that does sound about right.”

Floyd’s nightmares would continue for a few weeks, but every couple of nights, they became progressively less intimidating, and he would still have nightmares occasionally about his capture.

[kindheart525]

Marble Pie was determined to set things right, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Finally she realized it was time to stop running away from her mistakes, from the opportunity to change her ways. From her family. So she went home at long last, with a little surprise for the baby dragon she now called daughter.

“Hello, little one.”

She whispered to Rosemary, who lay sprawled out on the floor playing with her tail. She was just like any other baby in this way. Just learning about the world around her, right down to the tail on her behind. Goodness, was she cute!

Marble couldn’t believe she’d ever thought of Rosemary as anything but.

She desperately hoped that Rosemary wouldn’t remember how her life had started out, how her own Mama had treated her. Marble would never forget, and neither would Fluttershy, they’d both done so much. But she hoped that she could turn over a new stone and be the caring and motherly figure Rosemary deserved.

Speaking of stones…

“I made you something, Rosemary.”

The mare pulled out a small necklace, made of pink crystals that she’d mined and tumbled all on her own, putting in all the work she could to show the baby how she felt.

“This is made of rose quartz. Isn’t it pretty? These crystals came from Gandma and Grandpa’s farm!”

Marble cooed and baby-talked as she took the little one into her arms, but as she went on the ache of regret started to return.

“It represents unconditional love…what I should have felt for you from the start. You’re just a little baby. My baby. It doesn’t matter how you came to our family, it doesn’t matter what awful things we’ve done, you just need to be loved.”

At this point she was saying this more for herself than for Rosemary. The little dragon didn’t understand her, she probably wasn’t even thinking about that fateful night at the moment. But still Marble had to get it off her chest.

“I’m so sorry, more than I’ve ever been. And I hope that one day, you can forgive me—“

CRUNCH!

“Hmm?”

She looked down to find that Rosemary had taken a big bite out of the necklace and was now munching away without a care. 

How could I forget dragons eat gems? So much for wearing it.

Marble thought to herself, but it was more in a humorous way as she started to giggle at the baby’s antics.

“Eating rocks just like Grandpa and your aunties, you really are a little Pie!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Intervention

Background by anitech

[bookwormscififan]

In Your Arms

Read on AO3!

Concept art

A/N: The promised fic of Mare finding out Mad was bullied in school and comforting him until he fell asleep.

--

“Starshine, what’s this?” Mare called from the bedroom, waiting for Mad to stand beside him before motioning at the dusty box he’d found shoved in the back of the closet. “I don’t remember seeing it when I moved you in.”

“That’s just some dumb social things,” Mad replied, biting his lip in hopes Mare didn’t ask for more information.

“Social things?” Mare could feel Mad rolling his eyes as the scientist let out a soft breath, turning to see the tension in his shoulders. “Like, school things? Results for group projects, that sort of stuff?”

“N-Not quite…” Mad crouched beside Mare to open the box, pulling out several yearbooks with shaky hands. “I never liked yearbooks. Having to go around and get people to sign them, even though they never bothered to know you all the year.”

“I never had a yearbook,” Mare whispered, taking the books from Mad’s hands to glance through them. “Phan and I were basically homeschooled because Night was worried we’d mess up. What so you mean, ‘never bothered’?”

“When you’re a quiet ‘know it all’,” Mad began, making air quotes with sad eyes. “Nobody bothers to make sure you’re alright. ‘Let’s make fun of the smart kid’, ‘why is he so weird?’ They bullied me for being different, then acted like my best friends at the end of the year.”

“Darling,” Mare breathed, putting the yearbooks back into the box before closing it and shoving it back into the closet. “I didn’t know that was what you went through. I’m sorry that I asked about the box. What can I do, is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Hold me,” Mad whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “I feel so dumb. I shouldn’t feel this way about those bullies anymore, but I still do.” He curled against Mare’s chest as he was lifted and carried to the bed, listening to Mare’s heart.

“They made you doubt yourself,” Mare reasoned, letting Mad shuffle to get more comfortable. “They took all your best traits and twisted them into something bitter and wrong, and no amount of time is going to change that. But I can be here, I can help you to shape those things into something better. And I will.”

“I love you, Mare,” Mad mumbled, feeling warm in Mare’s arms as the musician held him close. “I love that you know me, and you love me anyway. I’m… glad I met you, grateful to have you here.”

Mare hummed in response, stroking his thumb along Mad’s arm as he sang quietly, listening to Mad’s breathing even out, showing he’d fallen asleep.

I can make illusions, And imagine solutions, But I could never imagine Having you here in my arms. I can change your dreams, Give you pleasantries instead of nightmares, And yet, I know the best comfort Is having me hold you close.

When he was sure Mad was fast asleep, Mare kissed the top of his head and adjusted so Mad was laying in the bed with his head on Mare’s pillow. Quietly he climbed out of the bed and went to the box in the closet, pulling it out and carrying it out to the backyard.

“I can’t trace exactly who hurt you, dear heart,” he whispered, snapping his fingers to make a small bonfire. “But I can make sure you never have to remember them again.” One by one, he laid the yearbooks into the fire, watching them crinkle and burn as purple flame engulfed them, destroying the memories that made Mad so unhappy.

As he watched the embers float into the sky, Mare waved his fingers in a small pattern, smiling as the embers formed a heart before disappearing completely, and the musician whistled quietly as he walked back into the house.

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@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @rattyboyisemo @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[iamvegorott]

I'm a sucker for lullabies, like maybe Mad walks in on Mare playing a lullaby or Mare sings Mad to sleep with a lullaby? I think it'd be sweet! But I feel that too, not gonna lie! I hope you feel better tomorrow and your brain stops being a drama queen!

The brain just wants to be acknowledged more some days XD And thank you <3

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“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.” Mad sighed, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. 

���What makes you say that?” Mare asked. He was across the room and finishing up getting dressed for the night. 

“I don’t know. My brain is just doing that weird buzzing that just keeps going and going, and I can’t sleep when it does that.” Madd explained, holding his hands in the air and gesturing with them, trying to see if he could form his words with them as well but giving up and letting them plop back down. “I guess it just starts thinking about everything I need or could do, and then it tells me I shouldn’t be laying down, I should be productive, and sleep doesn’t do anything, and blah blah blah.” This time, Mad lifted a hand to make a talking motion with it. 

“What do you usually do when that happens?” Mare picked the dirty clothes off the floor and dropped them into their hamper. 

“Usually, I get stuck in this gross cycle of wanting to get up and do things and telling myself I should sleep and just lay paralyzed as I stare at nothing until the sun comes up, and I can justify being awake.” Mad sounded exhausted from just saying that. 

“Well, maybe I can offer some help?” Mare got into the bed with Mad. 

“You can try.” Mad shrugged, waiting until Mare was comfortable on his back before he rolled over and put himself on top of his chest. “I’ve read that distractions can help and that melatonin could be a good assistance, but I don’t know.” 

“I was actually thinking of the first one. Something simplistic might be the best cure.” Mare started rubbing Mad’s back. 

“What are you thinking?” Mad tilted his head so he could look at Mare’s face.

“A lullaby,” Mare stated with confidence.

“Lullaby?”

“I mean, you like my voice, don’t you?”

“I do. A lot. But I’m not a baby.”

“Lullabies aren’t just for babies.” 

“If you think I can work, go for it.” Mad sighed and adjusted himself to be more comfortable. 

“The first step is to decide what kind of lullaby. I could always do the one from Shark Boy and Lava Girl.” Mare grinned when Mad was looking at him once more. 

“The what?” 

“Oh, you’re getting cultured right now, starlight.” Mare chuckled and cleared his throat before he started singing. “Close your eyes, shut your mouth. Dream a dream and get us out. Dream, dream, dream, dream, dream, dream~”

“That’s a lullaby?” Mad started laughing. 

“Hit the hay fast asleep. Dream a dream, you little bleep~”

“Mare, stop!” Mad’s laugh got louder. 

“What? Not working?” Mare joined in on the laughs. 

“Not at all!” 

“Such a shame.” 

“You’ll have to try the first step again.” Mad giggled, and he felt Mare run his hand through his hair, keeping his other hand still rubbing at his back. 

“I got it. Close your eyes and just relax.” Mare watched as Mad did as told, relaxing against him and showing he trusted him fully. He kissed Mad’s head and started singing again, this time much softer and slower.

“Starlight, star bright, the night is always shining. The sky is clear. I’ll hold you dear. Until the sun is rising.”

Mare had his hands moving as he continued to sing, feeling Mad’s body relaxing more and more, his breathing deepening and deepening, and soon, Mad had drifted off.

“Told you it’d work,” Mare whispered and kissed Mad’s head again. “Goodnight, starlight.”