#never seen this woman in my LIFE but she is delightful!!

[shorthaltsjester]

there is something so, so devastating to me about imogen having spent the past weeks utilizing how much like her mother she appears to be as a way for the hells to gain intel and slip past different situations but how significantly her like . relvin vibes have increased in the past couple episodes. and of course we only have the one interaction with him but the temult dynamic is one of the ones that spins my brain around in knots. there is something very juicy to me about an imogen who can’t escape her mother’s fate because she looks like her spitting image and has her same powers and who can’t escape her father’s fate because she’s also powerless watching the woman she loves disappear.

like relvin in that visit is of course walled off and he’s decades down the road of having seen the woman he loves disappear into the unknown of her powers and what we got of his response to liliana and the idea of helping imogen save her wasn’t unlike imogen’s recent response to laudna. his comment that he always figured that liliana would realize gelvaan wasn’t the place for her, he just also hoped they’d go together when she left is like the domestic small town mirror of imogen’s illogical but real griefguilt about leaving laudna alone by fighting against predathos. i mean relvin specifically brings up that he doesn’t know if liliana was lying to him the whole time about her powers or if she didn’t know either, “it’s a lot to take in at once. you think you know someone, there’s a whole part of their life that they just been keeping secret from you. i was angry. i’m still angry. but you know, a little part of me wants to believe she was just doing it to protect you.“ a sentiment echoed by imogen’s responses to laudna the past few episodes.

and at the end of that gelvaan visit, relvin speaking up enough to tell imogen to “tell her…” but not having anything to say. because liliana made her choice and he knows his words didn’t mean anything before. imogen just watching as laudna shoves a dagger into her own chest, imogen telling her “i’ll always love you, laudna. i just don’t know what to do with it.”

god, in general, imogen who grew up knowing that love isn’t enough. that love is important and it’s a lot, but not enough. relvin and imogen standing with a chasm of grief and a silver locket between them and “i never want you to be afraid of me, daddy” “me neither.” and laudna’s “i don’t like people being mad at me.” and imogen’s “i know.”

because imogen is her father’s daughter. like absolutely with anger at him and complexity in that relationship but silly little cowboy jokes aside, the values imogen expresses are ones that — when not ones born of her experiences with her powers — seem very much contextualized by her upbringing. i mean the ideal life that she dreamt of and dismissed with laudna someday when the apocalypse is over is a small cottage with some horses. relvin lives in a farmhouse furnished for one.

i’ve talked before about how For Me the most fruitful lens for viewing imogen’s story is one of generational trauma, and i think the reasons for that re: liliana are obvious. but i also think that being raised by someone who isn’t privy to the intricacies of whatever haunts their spouse enough that it’s been passed down is another sort of fucked up legacy and i am truly delighted/sorrowed by how messily and interestingly imogen sits at the intersection of these dual temult legacies; one of leaving and one of being left.

[mshalfemptygirl]

Cupid (S.R)

Plot: Our favorite Doutor confess feels to his best friend also co-worker, Y/N.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Contents: Really quicky mention to drinks, cases, makeout but fluffy for sure.

A/N: hello readers, I disappeared for a year because of work and college and a serious health problem but I'm better than ever and coming back to writing has brought me back to life. I hope you like her because she's cute, a couple from a romance movie basically, so like and share if you like it.

"Alright, Spence. What are your thoughts on the woman over there in the dark green dress? She looks elegant, charming, and quite attractive. She might even share an interest in the books you enjoy, don’t you think? What’s your take?" I gestured toward the woman who had just taken a seat at the bar, alone. I was on a mission to play matchmaker for Spencer. Although he hadn’t asked for my help, I thought it would be useful to offer a female perspective. Spencer’s inherent shyness meant he needed substantial guidance in social situations, especially when it came to women.

The ambiance was pleasant. We were seated at a table near the main entrance. Given that it was Thursday, the bar was relatively quiet, but it was the only day we both had free to unwind after a grueling series of cases in New York. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s been happening this past month, but I’ve reviewed so much material that when I close my eyes, I still see the words on the pages. And Spence? The poor guy has never analyzed so many maps in his life. I thought this break was well-deserved, and he certainly deserved a chance to spend time with someone special. Well, both of us could use a moment with someone, but I’m on a cupid’s mission and need to stay focused—no distractions, no more than three drinks.

"She’s attractive, but I’m not fond of blondes, and she seems a bit too tall for my taste. I don’t think it would work out," he replied. I frowned and looked at him with disbelief. This was the fifth woman he had dismissed that evening, and his options were rapidly dwindling. I downed my beer in one gulp and stared him down, hoping to make him realize it was now or never. "Spence, you don’t need to be so selective. I understand it’s challenging for you, but you’re only looking for someone to kiss. I’d love to kiss that girl! She’s stunning. Just approach her, buy her a drink, and then kiss her. Go on, now," I urged impatiently. He needed to make the first move.

"I understand, Y/N. She’s attractive, but I don’t want to kiss her, that’s all," he said, turning back to the bar and taking a sip of his whiskey. I knew him well enough to sense he was hiding something. This was a significant step for him, and despite our discussions about taking a break, he seemed reluctant to pursue it. Ugh, he could be so stubborn.

"I know there’s more to it, love. Are you feeling overwhelmed? Am I being too pushy, is that it? I’m sorry if I’m a bad cupid. I’ll stop. Look, I’m waving the white flag—peace," I said, grabbing a napkin and waving it theatrically. I flashed a grin, and he chuckled. It was always like this: he was the serious one, and I was the humorous one. He loved books, and I adored movies. He was the little angel, and I was the little devil. "Very amusing, but I swear, I have nothing to hide from you," he assured me.

"Spencer..." I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. He looked uncomfortable, but he started to speak anyway, with a hint of resignation in his voice. "Well, there’s this girl I’ve developed feelings for... she’s incredibly nice and fun. When she talks to me, I can’t think of anything else. I’m not sure how to articulate my feelings, but I don’t want to kiss anyone else. She’s everything to me now." I was overjoyed and exhilarated. I’d never seen Spence so in love before, and now he had someone special in his life. Of course, I felt a twinge of jealousy, but I was also genuinely happy for him. This was a delightful surprise.

"Spencer Walter Reid!! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?! Did you—" I exclaimed, relieved that the bar was mostly empty. His face flushed red as he tried to cover my mouth with his hand. "Y/N, please don’t shout!!! I didn’t know sooner, I didn’t realize it until now..." he explained. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my excitement. "Alright... you need to go talk to her right now and give her a proper kiss! I’ll handle things here. Just go for it!"

He looked at me wide-eyed, his hands on my shoulders. "You really think so? Are you sure?" I snorted. "Absolutely, go now." And that’s when he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to do. His fingers gently gripped the back of my neck, his touch both tender and urgent. He leaned in, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin before our lips finally met. I was stunned, my body tensed, and my eyes remained open for a moment, but his lips were so soft that I quickly surrendered to the kiss. Our lips moved together in sync, and I felt a profound connection. He wasn’t as shy as I’d thought—he had a way with words and was incredibly sweet. I couldn’t explain it, but he was perfect. Suddenly, I found myself bewitched by the very arrow of Cupid I had sent forth.

As we broke away from the kiss, I gazed at him, utterly bewildered, my heart racing with every beat. "Spence, what was that? You just..." I asked, my voice trembling with genuine confusion. He looked at me with an expression that blended sincerity and vulnerability before responding in a tone that was soft yet deeply meaningful: "Well, the truth is, the woman I’ve been admiring all along is you. I’m sorry if this comes as a shock, but you asked me to act, so I did."

I was momentarily stunned, a whirlwind of emotions overtaking me. How could I have been so blind not to notice this sooner? I opened my mouth for the first time in minutes to speak my heart. "Spence, there's no need to apologize. I'm just... surprised! That was really something," I said, still trying to wrap my head around the moment. I paused, letting it all sink in. "So, does this count as our first date, or would you rather have a more traditional one?" I asked with an amused tone, trying to ease the tension that had built between us, feeling a bit uncertain about what came next.

"Oh, I definitely want another date. How about I take you out for dinner, and you wear that dark blue dress you had on at Rossi’s? I love the way it looks on you," he said, his words making a warm sensation spread through me. "You’re so sweet, Spence. I hadn’t really noticed it before. If I’d known you kissed like that..." I replied with a laugh, hugging him tightly. "And you can bet I’ll wear the dress if it makes you happy." With a gentle caress on my face, I brushed his bangs off his forehead, feeling a bit strange about kissing one of my best friends, but I was glad he had the courage to confess something so significant.

I looked at his face again and could see him a bit embarrassed by the events of the night that had unfolded in a public place. It wasn’t something he had planned, and he likes to plan things. "Y/N, may I kiss you a little longer?" he asked, his eyes searching mine for permission. Instead of answering, I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, savoring the moment.

Talk to me

Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: let me know if you want me to tag you

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Wanderer

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞

You meet an elf, a wanderer and quickly take him into your life, only to later learn he is no elf at all

That fix-it fix that's like, a month too late

Adar stood in the midst of the battlefield, Elrond at his feet.

But he paid the elven warrior no mind, for he had much greater things in his posession.

Nenya hung from a chain between his fingers, gleaming in the dim light cast over the fields of death.

Adar had what he required, and sounded the horns of retreat.

But across the borders of Mordor none his children had caught sight of their Lord Father.

No, for he had not returned to his lands. He had found himself in a state of fear upon the discovery of Nenya's powers as he sat at the river's edge where he took in his reflection that no longer matched him.

His hand lifted to his face and felt no scarring, only soft flesh. He retreated his hand and brought it into view and found a light pink hue where a dull gray was supposed to be.

With quick and frantic movements he discarded his gauntlet and revealed the lack of black charred skin. Next was his armor and chainmaille, together with the lift of his heavy cotton tunic. The ring on his hand glimmered in his sight and it clicked.

It had healed him.

Wounds that had endured ages, leftovers of torture and remainders of darkest days all were no longer. And thus he wondered.

His children had retreated further into the lands of Mordor, and the elves had fled Eregion. It meant the lands around him were cleared of threats, or at least he expected them to be.

He discarded the guards tied around his boots and hid them along with his armor, setting off in the direction of the fallen city where he raided homes for food and cloth.

Once fed and changed into clean, gorgeously embroidered elven attire, with his hair tied in a traditional style the reflection he looked at in the mirror was no longer Adar.

He could blend now, wander and exsist freely. All he had to do was keep the ring hidden.

And so he wandered. For weeks, months he traveled. Never staying in one place long and avoiding settlements where he could run into familiar faces.

"Ah, apologies sir." A thud against his side had Adar stop examining the arrangements of products in the market stall and look beside him where the kind voice spoke to him.

A woman stood beside him, the stall long forgotten as she stared in awe. It was strange, to be almost gawked at like this, but he would lie if he said that he preffered the looks doubt and distrust of others.

"Do you wish to see, my lady?" With a kind gesture he stepped aside and led the lady to his spot. He watched the exchange and was caught off guard as he was offered half of her purchase.

"Please, I cannot accept this." Adar held up his hands, he had money to pay for his own food. Taking from others was his way no longer.

"Then you come eat with me." You stood your ground against the elf before you. "I insist."

You were persistant, and while he preffered to stay on his own he could not deny the pull at his heart with how you looked at him and showed him kindness.

With a curt bow he accepted, and allowed you to lead him to a quiet area where you sat down and unpacked your basket.

"I haven't seen you around here before." You wondered out loud, hoping to get a little conversation out of the beautiful stranger.

"I travel. I wander around and never stay in one place for long. It is not strange you haven't seen me before as this is the first time I have come by this place." He picked at the fruit in his hands, taking off small chunks to eat.

The back and forth of casual conversation was a delight to Adar, all up to the point of you mentioning never having introduced yourself with a shy laugh. You offered your name and wished for his in return.

His mind panicked. He had never yet needed a name, seeing most folk left him alone and no one had indulged enough to ask him.

He needed an answer quick. He took to looking down at the table as if to take more food and his eyes fell on the silver embroidery of the moon phases on the edge of his sleeve.

"You may call me Raun. For the moon that has guided my path for many ages." He glanced up for a short moment before picking up an apple to snack on.

"Raun," You gave the name a try and smiled. "It suits you. The color of your eyes and robe match it as well." You had already noticed Raun's beautiful greyish blue eyes were easy to get lost in.

He enjoyed listening to you talk about things he should go see in the area, describing them with great detail. Your voice was like music to his ears.

Halfway into a sentence you stopped and let out a soft laugh, earning a confused look from the elf across from you.

Without another word you reached over to him, your fingers lightly touching his cheek as you brushed a piece of apple peel off the corner of his mouth. Your hand lingered with how it felt like Raun leaned into the touch and placed his hand over yours then, turning his head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to your palm.

He was so touch starved his body acted on its own, quickly retreating once he realized his actions.

Stammering out an apology was all he managed before you were grabbing his hands into yours. "It's okay." Your touch calmed him and he dared lifting his gaze back up from the table.

The smile you held was genuine, it was as clear as day to him and he wished to hold your hands forever.

Adar had been deprived of kindness from anyone but his kin for as long as his memories let him recall, the softness of elven touch seeping into his veins and reviving his rotten heart.

"I do believe you deserve a genuine apology. My actions should have not be so sudden. I must admit it seems I have missed the touch of another for so long I reacted too strongly. " There was shame in his tone, and you wondered what caused him to feel such negativity. You'd set the question aside for later and opted for rubbing comforting circles over his knuckles. He missed touch, so you'd touch him.

Your gentle touches were clearly having an effect on him and you decided to give the interesting elf what he needed most.

"Where are you staying?" Your question pulled his gaze off your still connected hands. "If you want we can wander the area together? I'll pick you up at the inn."

The truth was a sad one. One he almost did not dare to speak aloud. With the fall of Eregion there were no inns left in the are that had space for travelers like him. But the thought of leaving again right after this delightful meeting felt like a stab to the chest.

"The inns are all full of refugees." Ones he had made to leave himself. He and his kin, too focused on taking Sauron's life that everything else became unimportant. His blindness had come to bite him in the ass.

"The elves who resided in Eregion traveled as far as here to find shelter, I forgot about that.." You sighed at the reminder of how cruel the world could be.

"You can stay at my place, if you wish?" It was a careful offer, unsure how the wanderer liked getting close to people on his stops. His raised brows and wide eyes came as a surprise to you, immediately agreeing with your plans was not something you expected he'd do.

Adar was intrigued to say the least. He normally would run at the offer, afraid his sherades would fall through but now he was getting excited to follow you instead.

It is how the two of you ended at your home. You showed him around and let him take in your collection of writing while you prepared a simple dinner.

You had denied Raun's request to help you cook enough times to have him give up and retreat back to your collection of books until you called him back to share dinner.

Only when you were finished you allowed him to help you clean up, he would not let it slide if you denied him again.

You had Raun put away the last plate as you wiped down the counter, not leaving your place a mess now that you had a houseguest.

The touches you had shared, and brushed off as accidental or bound to happen while cleaning together had Adar craving more.

On his way back his eyes were stuck you your frame, working to finish your task and loving how your garment sat on your frame so well. Adar let his heart win over his mind and moved towards you, his hands finding your hips and his lips finding the tip of your ear as you jumped at the touch.

"Apologies, I did not mean to frighten you." You melted at the sound of his voice. Feeling his breath against your ear had you lean into him entirely. His cheek rested against yours as you laid your head back against him, turning ever so slightly to look him in the eye. Again your touches were answered with the smallest peck, this time to the corner of your mouth.

Yet you found him a little too careful and turned around between him and the counter you leaned against, only to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling him into the kiss he had wanted to give you.

The intimacy of the moment seared all Adar's nerves, his tongue less than gently making it past your lips and hoisted you on top of the just cleaned counter. There was nothing elven in his actions, but you were enjoying his ministrationa too much to care. The way he skillfully undid your garment without an ounce of hesitation just added to the ever growing curiosity.

And in this moment your curiosity had set on finding out what was underneath his robes.

Shortly all parts of garments were all over the floor and your hands were grasping long strands of dark hair in bliss. You watched as Raun feasted on you, tongue alternating between lapping at your clit and pressing into you, his hands a tight grip on your legs. The rumble of his voice as he hummed in pleasure only had you whine louder, clenching your walls around nothing and begging. Begging for him to fill you, to stand up and let you please him as well. The pull at his roots only made him add more pressure to your clit, and with only a few more calculated flicks of his tongue he had you coming with a loud moan of his name.

"R.. Raun please," You weren't given a moment to catch your breath as his tongue was replaced by his fingers nestling deep inside of you, curling them to rub at your most sensitive spot.

The way his new name sounded, moaned out like that made him appriciate it. He suddenly no longer minded his panicked answer. If it was for you, he would be Raun for as long as you'd have him.

"Please what, my sweet girl?" His tongue found your lips and licked them before pulling you into another passionate kiss, having you taste yourself on him. "Tell me your desires.." The hand not currently pleasing you found your chest, softly kneading. "I cannot tend to your needs if you do not tell me."

You were beyond ready for him, he must know this. Then why was he teasing you so much? It was strange how he acted but it made the act so much more pleasurable.

"I.. I want you inside." Speaking your wants out loud was so unlike you, and Raun chose to make it worse. "But love, I already am." He spoke as another finger joined the two already toying with your walls.

With his palm pressing against your clit he made it even more difficult for you to speak. "Hahh.. you know whh.. what I mean.." Your words drew out into mewls and whines.

"My poor, shy Elleth. Am I to guess what you wish for?" You couldn't get enough of his voice, but in turn could not get yours to function. So with your hands you showed him what you desired. You pulled his hips flush with yours, snaking your hand inbetween your bodies and taking his length in hand to press the tip at your entrance.

Much to your pleasure Raun had taken your wordless actions and moved to lazily thrust into you, barely an inch at a time to ease himself all the way in until hiships were flush with yours at the edge of the counter.

To give you a moment to adjust to the fullness he pressed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, your tongues brushing along each other as large hands held you in place until you both ran out of breath.

Panting your foreheads rested together, a smile on your face that had Adar's mind beg him to stay just a little longer each time he saw it.

With his hands on your hips he set a steady rhythm that had you gasp and moan, clamping your legs around his waist which only made him go deeper.

"Hah.. Raunn.." You moaned against his temple as he had his mouth at your neck, biting and licking. Only leaving marks where he was sure only he would see them. With each scrape of his teeth your fingers tightened around the strands of hair you held.

"Do you wish to finish, my sweet?" His hips kept up their pace, the drag of his cock inside of you almost making you see stars. You nodded against him and he grunted in response. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his panting picked up against your skin, making you tighten your grip on his waist and letting out soft moans right at his ear.

Oh how he loved your noises. And the way your legs clamped around his body felt so good. One of his hands left your hips to rub circles on your clit, to pull you over the edge with him as he finished, spilling deep inside of you with a groan muffled by your shoulder.

Your palm rested against the back of his head as you caught your breaths. You felt Raun's cock slide out of you as he stepped back to give you space to stretch your legs.

"That was.. definitely not elf-like." A tired smile was all you could give him as he laughed softly at your comment. "I suppose I shall take that as a compliment, yes?" He held his hands out for you to hop down the counter, but your legs failed you and had you tumble face first into Raun's chest. To answer his comment you just nodded into his chest, humming affirmingly.

"You look ripe for bed, shall I take you?" Another nod and a quiet "yes, please." left your wobbly self before you were picked up and took you to the bedroom, where you dis not want to let him leave. "Hmmno, you're warm. Stay?"

And so he stayed. He let you rest for a moment but eventually you ended up tangled under your sheets once again. Sleep didn't come until early that morning.

Over the course of weeks, you had the company of Raun wherever you found yourself. Holding hands out and about at the market or wandering the woods. At home there was not a room or surface left that hadn't been defiled. Raun had shown you everything he said he had picked up during his thousands of years among other races and communities. You loved his roughness in bed, the way he'd manhandle you on top of the dinnertable or make you cum on his tongue time after time before holding you in a bruising grip as he ravaged you.

Adar felt like he was risking way too much for one elf, but the longer he spent in your presence the less he worried. Nor thought of his old self.

The longer he stayed with you, saw himself as he was now the more he felt like his new identity. Raun was who he was now and how he introduced himself as well. No longer 'just a wanderer' or a dismissive answer to the question once someone cared ebough to ask.

Although some nights when he sat awake by himself he felt like he was lying to you, he was content as your elven lover. The worry was only a small negative compared to the large amount of positive you had brought him.

He even agreed to go see some event happening in the area. You stood together in the crowd, not entirely front row but you had a clear enough view of it all.

Royal elves came to see communities near Eregion where refugees had fled to, bringing assistance where needed. You found them to be a little late, but appriciated the gesture. While you were having a good time watching, you could feel Raun's restless energy. You had questioned him but all he blamed it on was the large crowd of people.

Adar felt sick, trying to hide his shaking hands as he watched the high king greet people. His worry of him somehow sensing another ring being in his presence was almost overwhelming.

Almost.

And then his hand was grabbed and soft pads traced over his knuckles. You grounded him for a moment. Just enough to get his breathing in check and calm his racing mind. He gave himself a moment to say thanks with a soft kiss to the side of your head, life was suddenly less anxiety inducing in that moment.

When he dared to look back to the event happening his world sank back into panic. The grip on your hand was almost bruising, pulling you from your excitement to see Lady Galadriel being her perfect self. You pulled your hand free from Raun's grasp with a quick look towards him and saw nlthing but fear in his eyes and on the other end of you you could see Lady Galadriel look directly your way.

No, not your way. She looked at Raun.

"My sweet, I need to leave. I'm not feeling well I'm afraid." There was a tremble in his voice. It was enough to convince you to leave with him instead of having him head back home by himself.

The second you alowed him he took long strides out the back of the crowd, his hand still in yours as to not lose you. He couldn't deal with that now, he needed you with him.

"Can you please tell me what's wrong?" You were catching your breath from having to kesp up with his long strides across the whole area. Raun had taken you to the other end from where the event was happening and no longer felt the stare af the back of his head.

"I promise I will explain later. Now I prefer to go home and calm my mind if you are okay with it. I had hoped to keep your calming presence at my side." You tried to pin any logic to the whole situation but all you saw was what reminded you of a young child clinging to his mother's dress for safety and comfort. So you let him hold on to you and carefully made your way home.

Raun convinced you to take a more scenic route trough the woods. To calm him, he said. You let him lead the way, nowadays familiar with the woods surrounding your home you knew he told the truth about wanting to go back to the house you shared, but the quiet stroll through the woods didn't last long enough to reach it.

"Hold it right there, orc." It was unmistakably lady Galadriel's voice that called out and made you look around in panic. Orcs? This close to your home? Had they truly become this ruthless, to start attacking settlements for no reason?

Your mind raced until the lady was right in front of you, a blade to Raun's neck and a sneer on her face.

"You believed you could run off without us finding you? Hand me back my ring this instant." The blade at the now elf's throat pressed hard against his skin, close to breaking it.

"Please." You called out to Galadriel, hoping she'd see her mistake. "I may not know who you are searching for, but I can assure you Raun is not him. He has been in my company for--"

"Let me guess, a short while after Eregion fell?" Her blade never left Raun's throat, even as she looked at you and your still intertwined hands.

"He has been deceiving you with this fair form. A trick he has no doubt learned from Sauron himself." Her angry stare moved back to Raun next to you, who's look turned from fearful to enraged in a fraction of a second. Witg a snap that had the blade at his thoat break the skin he barked at her.

"Don't EVER compare me to that filth. You know he has tricked us both with the one thing you accuse me of doing." The blood ran down the front of his garment and yet he showed no sign of discomfort.

You stood among them as if you did not exsist in this exchange, and it hurt you to be left out. You watched as Raun composed himself with a grounding breath.

"If I were to return your ring willingly, are you willing to let me roam free? I have no more desire to fight, in all my ages I have seen too much torture and death." His gaze landed back on you. "If you allow it, I'd prefer to live my in peace. I shall leave and asure our paths may never cross once more."

"You know she will leave. You have been lying to her from the second you met. Do you truly believe you deserve any better than execution?" The more you listened to Galadriel's words the more confused you became.

And then Raun's hand slipped from yours, the softest apology fell from his lips before he slipped the silver ring from his finger and held it out for Galadriel to take.

"Goneho nin." He could do nothing more than apologize. Adar's trembling voice made him despise himself. Lady Galadriel was right in all her accusations. He had lied to you, so much that it had slowly starting to morph into a new false reality.

The silver ring slipped from his finger and laid in his palm, waiting for Galadriel's hand. But that wasn't what your eyes were focused on even with how gorgeously it gleamed in the broken sunlight between the trees.

No, your eyes were settled on Raun, who's skin lost all color. His eyes dulled and scarred patterns knitted their wat over the side of his face. Against the palm of your hand you felt skin warp and you pulled back in horror. You tried to understand but you couldn't. The hand you just so affectionately held was blackened, burned beyond repair.

"R.. Raun?"

Without looking at you he shook his head. He did not dare to look you in the eye in fear of losing something genuinely good.

"Love," You weren't calling him by a name this time, unsure how he would respond.

"Will you please grant me a proper look at you. Do not listen to her words regarding me. I make my own choices and leaving isn't one of them, even with what I am seeing right now."

It was Galadriel's turn to look at you with a look of surprise. "How can you stay after seeing proof of his lies?" She was convinced she was right, that her view was the only correct one but you knew the man you only knew as Raun to have been truthful in his words regarding you.

"I stay because I listen. You heard him say he is done with war. He wishes to be left alone and live quietly, as do I." Your eyes once more set on the now scarred man beside you. Your hand ever so carefully taking his scarred one.

"And I, for one, do believe people can change their hearts. And as long as his heart is good I do not care if he is not Raun the elf. You make it sound like I should be repulsed by him and I am not." You gave Galadriel one last stern glare.

"Leave us alone and we'll disappear. We'll find a place to live outside of elven lands and bother no one."

She ignored your words and looked to your partner for confirmation. And he spoke. On his own behalf and yours.

"If you do not believe her than that is your choice. If we cannot stay here then we shall leave and find another place to live. You know for a fact I have no trouble living in less than luxurious circumstances."

While the other two spoke your mind kept tossing questions your way. Ones you surely had to discuss later, after figuring out what your partner's name was, if not the one he had given you.

It seemed Galadriel had given the okay to move on away from elven lands, seeing she bid you farewell and left with her reclaimed ring.

You wanted to ask your partner to look at you, to turn around and look at you on his own accord and not jump in front of him to get a good look and bombard him with questions.

"I don't know what to call you, but would you please allow me to look at you?" Your hand found his again, gently carressing the scarring.

"I prefer to go home first, then discuss all you wish inside where I am not to be seen by others." He kept his gaze low to the ground and started towards your home at the sound of your okay.

You walked behind him in silence, letting him set the pace and respecting his boundaries still. Only once you were home you dared to glance for longer moments.

With a long drawn out sigh, Adar sat down in your reading nook, pressed against the pillows you so enjoyed laying against and beckoned you over. You followed his every gesture and sat down with him between where he had one leg propped up on the bench and the other rested off it.

Instead of allowing you to stare and touch he carefully maneuvered you with your back against his chest, pausing every move to make sure you were still consenting to be so close to him.

Way easier than he expected you were settled against him, arms raised and fingers tangled in his hair. You still saw nothing of him besides his hands. One covered in blackened scars and the other adorning a once large cut now healed over to just a raised line on grey skin. With his hands resting on your stomach he started to talk.

"The elf you saw before was my former self. One with a name long forgotten, and I no longer feel belongs to me." One of his hands trailed up to find your hand and softly guided your fingers to his scarred face.

"I am Adar, ancient compared to your fairly young self. No longer of the Eldar but now uruk." With his hand on yours he brushed along his temple.

"I have deceived you, using the ring to hide among the masses. But while my physical form changed, my heart and mind have not. My feelings toward you still remain."

Your hands retracted and you slowly made a move to turn around, onto your stomach to finally look at him properly.

"Adar.." You tested his name as you took all of him in much like you had that first day you met, and oh how the name left your mouth watering.

"So, you didn't pick up all those things on your ages of wandering." Your fingers were back to tracing the scars that adorned Adar's face, humming contently as he shook his head.

"I did not, no. That was all uruk." There was almost a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You then sat up, bunching up your dress and straddled him. Hands eagerly pulling at his garment to get it off.

"Let me see more of you, Adar the uruk." Your lips found his and moaned into the kiss as you rolled your hips.

Adar recalled Galadriel's words for a second and smiled into the kiss at how wrong she was. He deepened the kiss with a hand in your hair and his tongue down your throat.

His free hand found your hip, a bruising grip on it to assist your movements on his hardening cock.

"Are you asking to be ravished, my sweet?" His much raspier voice only made you groan out in pleasure.

"Please, Ada.." Your mouth was at his ear now, tongue lapping at the edge which only made his fingers dig deeper in your soft flesh.

With a growl he switched positions by rolling you off the bench and onto the floor with a thud, not caring about being gentle with his elven lady anymore.

The look in his eyes was one of a hunter having caught his prey, ready to devour it. He shoved a knee between your legs, letting you rub yourself on his thigh as he made quick work of your dress and undergarments, tearing them off your body. His mouth was on your chest within seconds, leaving dark red marks all over you along with deep bitemarks. He bit at your skin, following a path from your neck down to your nipple, taking it between his teeth and pulling until you cried out.

In a short moment of rest you watched him pull the decorative rope off your curtains, closing them entirely to dim the room and used the rope to tie your wrists together. With skill he had your hands above your head and secured the rope.

"Now you keep those up there like a good little elleth." His teeth dragged over your ears as he commanded you.

"Y..yes, Adar." Your eyes followed his every move as he sat up on his knees.

The way he now towered over you sent heat straight to your core, even more so when he delicately untied his robe and let it fall to the floor.

The scars that started at his temples ran down his neck and over his torso, along with one full arm and hand. Some disappeared down the waistband of his trousers that you were eager to take off if your hands weren't bound.

Adar enjoyed the way you stared at him with hunger in your eyes. How your legs wriggled their way from underneath him and you toed at his trousers to get them off.

"My, my little elleth." With a deep, throaty laugh he hooked his fingers around the ties that held his pants up and tugged at them, the fabric immediately sagging at the loosened tension and being held in place by his hard cock.

You ached for him so bad you could only whine at the barrier of fabric still being in the way. He was playing unfair, getting you so turned on and then not allowing you to do anything you so desperately wanted. You almost thought to disobey him and grab at the cloth of his pants and take the punishment but for now you knew better than to draw attention with screams and cries. That was something for when you were somewhere far away from others.

"Show me, please?" A hum of contemplation left him as he tilted his head a little, making a show of pretending to thinkabout it before uttering a quiet "No."

In an instant he was pressed flush against you, trousers gone and his body hiding his length between the two of you. His face was barely an inch away from yours, hair hanging loose around his head. "You don't get to make any choices.." His drool covered tongue lolled out of his mouth and lapped over your lips, forcing your jaw apart and licking into your mouth. You tried to follow when he moved back, but only got snapped at. "You are my little plaything and you will take what I give you like a good pet."

Adar pressed his lips back against yours in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue, biting till you bled and smearing it across your lips and painting them red. He separated from you for a short moment, only to guide his cock to your entrance and in that moment you willed your eyes down his body and got a scarred hand to the jaw, pressing your face away to the side and growling deep in warning.

"S.. sorry.." You mumbled against his palm, looking up at the ceiling and obey his rules.

With your gaze fixed upward your head was released and Adar continued on to press the tip of his cock between your folds.

He felt different than before, spreading you wider now with only the head past your entrance. He didn't give you a chance to adjust as he kept rutting into you, a growl leaving him with every thrust.

His shape differed so much from before. He curved to perfectly rub against your most sensitive spot each time and you could feel thick ridges pull at your walls each time he pulled back.

"Big.. Slow pleaseee hurts.." You squirmed at his rough intrusion and you could feel parts stretch painfully that no one ever reached before.

Adar didn't reply, instead pulling your hips flush agains his making you scream from the pressure and altered his position to fuck into you even better. He had you folded between himself and the ground, teeth finding your chest and biting, leaving no skin ummarked as he continued his assault on your cunt.

"N.. no choices." He stammered with his cheek pressed against yours. His scarred hand holding your hips in place and the other held your wrists above your head.

His deep, erratic thrusts let you know he was getting close as well, chasing his release with harsh thrusts and panting breath. With each of your sounds, mewls and pleas his hand dipped lower down your body and found your clit. His rough fingers and cock combined were what sent you over the edge, walls clenching with a drawn out moan. The feeling of you finishing all over his length had Adar spilling deep within you with one last thrust, stilling entirely atop of you.

Adar's rough actions turned soft. Kind, nuzzling kisses and gentle touches to help you sit up and soothe your aching wrists that he unbound with care.

"I have not hurt you too much, have I?" With your discarded clothing he helped you clean up, his rough self now hidden behind caring actions.

"I'm alright. Just enough to not be too much." You smiled, wincing as he helped you up and took you to find clean garments and pack for your travels.

Adar carried the largest bag and kept away from people while you spent your last moments in your lands buying food that would last a while as you traveled.

As you left the community, your old life was behind you now. But in front of you was Adar, and you would walk to the end the world at his side.

[midastouch013]

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

-----------

It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

--

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

[rxqueenotd]

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima’, was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: oral m receiving, arranged marriage, foul language, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, Ancient Rome as a warning within itself.

notes: i am tired. no big notes today, just the chapter and a huge thanks to @trashmouth-richie for beta��ing for me even though we’re dying and surrounded by the plague.

⟡ Imperator- Septimius Severus

⟡ Augustus- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus “Caracalla”

⟡ Caesar- ⟡ Publius Septimius Geta “Geta”

III

“Brother,” Caracalla chuckled, surrounded by the finest of the court—his beloved whores, concubines, and every fair face that caught his eye—turned to his sibling, “have you laid eyes on my wife?”

Geta, his fingers entwined with his main flame to his right, shook his head slowly. “No, the better question would be: have you seen your wife?”

A silver platter brimming with powder was offered to Caracalla, who eagerly partook, stumbling backward, snorting and sniffling, until he finally crashed into his gilded seat.

“I thought we agreed to save the Rhino’s Horn for Saturnalia,” Geta shot a glance at the bearer of the silver dish, waving them off.

“Why not seize the day, brother?” Caracalla replied, “Father has departed for uncle’s villa, my wife is… well, lost to me at the moment, but that matters not. Let us enjoy these days of luxury.”

The two had been drunk for much of the day, with Caracalla lost in a haze of whatever was handed to him: Devil’s Breath, opium, Rhino’s Horn—none mattered. If it was offered, it was his. Geta, however, stayed pleasantly tipsy on sweet wine, his cup never empty, his tongue loosening enough to spill secrets like a river.

“Brother, I must share something with you.” Geta’s gaze met Caracalla’s, who leaned in, all ears.

Caracalla clapped his hands, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “At last, something of interest! Amuse me, brother.”

“Gracchus’s wife,” Geta began, “on the night of your wedding, her lips were wrapped so divinely around my cock.”

Caracalla nodded, interrupting, “A wondrous thing, indeed.”

Geta pressed on, “And Prima came to my chambers, asking to help you to bed while you were busy with one of your legendary displays.”

This piqued Caracalla’s interest. He sat up straight, eyes locked onto Geta’s face, lips pressed tight, nostrils flaring.

“And?” he urged Geta to continue.

“And, well, I commanded her to stay, to savor the moment.” Geta caressed the cheek of the woman at his side, who purred in delight, momentarily diverting his gaze from his brother.

Caracalla, though not entirely impressed, was curious. He grasped his brother’s arm firmly. “And she complied? She truly remained and watched?”

“Yes,” Geta affirmed with a nod, “who would dare refuse the command of a son of the emperor?”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face before he leaned down and whispered to one of the servants who knelt before them, awaiting his command.

It wasn’t long before you made your entrance into the chamber, a mix of confusion and acceptance washing over you at being summoned after a week of silence. You stood before the two brothers, maintaining a stoic expression while disregarding the crowd surrounding them, who now beheld the new Augusta. Most gazed at you in wonder, some wore expressions of intrigue, while others looked as if they were ready to eat you, relishing every moment they stood in your presence.

“Has someone died?” Caracalla asked, his brow furrowed as he took in your appearance from head to toe.

The toga you donned was a careful choice. Its deep black hue a sign of mourning, a garment you had worn through various times of grief. The black veil draped softly over your shoulders, trailing down the back of your dress and nearly brushing the floor, swaying gently with the warm breeze that flowed in from the balconies on either side. You adorned yourself with jewels—a delicate headpiece that held the veil in place, a gift from the Imperator himself, paired with his late wife's stunning collection of rubies that gleamed on your fingers. A golden cuff encircled your bicep, intricately designed with fine lines weaving a lace-like pattern, complemented by matching earrings and your family’s cherished wrist cuffs, passed down through generations.

“No one that I know of,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. “I just figured that if I dressed the part, perhaps the gods would take notice of my urgent prayers and send me off to the underworld with haste.”

A chorus of gasps filled the room, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning.

Caracalla staggered over, getting right in your face.

“Everyone, out!” he barked, his eyes locked on yours. When no one moved, he shouted, “Get out or live to regret it!” That was all it took for the crowd to scurry away like frightened mice.

“Tell me,” he said, dragging a finger down the bridge of your nose—an odd move, but on-brand for Caracalla, “did it make your cunt throb to see my brother getting his cock sucked?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Do not talk to me about implied infidelities when you’re surrounded by people the likes of which do not even make a good meal for a dog.”

Caracalla's expression shifted to a dangerous glint, his lips curling into a smirk. “Ah, so we’re playing at words now, are we? You think you can wound me with your tongue? I have better plans for that mouth of yours.”

“Brother,” Geta said, rising to his feet, “don’t do something you’ll come to regret.”

Caracalla pulled a dagger from his belt, pointing it at Geta. “You’ll sit down and keep your mouth shut, brother.”

And there you were, caught in the middle of two prideful men, like a sweet nectar drawing them in.

Geta lifted his hands in a gesture of defense, retreating toward his chair in defeat.

“On your knees, wench!” Caracalla bellowed, fury blazing in his eyes like a stormy sky.

Your gaze flickered to Geta, but Caracalla, with the edge of his sword pressed against your cheek, forcefully turned your head to face him.

“Is it not enough that you dared to speak with him? Must you also look upon him in my presence?” Caracalla whined, his naturally raspy voice sounding even more gravelly in his drug addled state.

“Are you deaf?!” he roared, “On your knees!”

You felt the cold of the sword as it slid from your cheek to your neck, pressing firmly against your carotid. With a heavy heart, you sank to your knees, shame washing over you.

As you gazed up at him, angry tears welled in your eyes. The golden laurel wreath tangled in his wild hair sat crookedly above his brows, as he looked down at you with a wild glint.

“Show me how well Gracchus’s wife treated my dear brother!” he cackled, delighting in the raunchiness of his demand.

“Absolutely not,” you spat through clenched teeth, attempting to rise once more, only to be met with his rough hands shoving you back down against the cold marble.

“Must I flog you for your insolence?!” he howled, spit flying from his lips, “Must I?!”

“Not here,” you pleaded, all pride abandoned as your knees ground into the cold marble, “Not like this.”

“Just like this,” he replied, smirking down at you as he pulled back his flowing robes to reveal his hard cock.

“Come on,” he flicked his tip against your lips, “open up for me.”

With angry tears stinging your eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, his velvet tip sliding past your lips, brushing heavily against your tongue.

“Should you dare use your teeth against me, I’ll have them knocked from your jaw with the hilt of my sword. Rome has no place for a wild, toothless harlot.”

He carelessly rolled his hips toward your face, swaying unsteadily with each thrust as you fought back the bile rising in your throat. When you didn’t please him the way he wished, he fucked your face with such fervor that he nearly lost his balance. You gagged as hot tears streamed down your cheeks, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth like a hungry dog.

“You must not have impressed her with your little show, brother,” he bellowed over his shoulder, gripping the roots of your hair, chuckling as you gagged even harder, pressing your nails into his thighs for fear you might topple over. “I have had better pleasure alone.”

He continued his brutal assault until finally he pulled you snug to the base of his cock, letting out a guttural groan, his legs nearly giving way beneath him as he released his hot seed into your mouth.

He stumbled back, shaky hands letting you go, but not fast enough to dodge the glob of cum you spat at his feet.

“You stupid whore—” he screamed, reaching for his sword again, but Geta grabbed him.

"‘Enough, brother,’ Geta commanded, gesturing toward the door. At once, two guards rushed in, seizing Caracalla, wrestling the blade from his grip, placing it firmly in Geta's hand.

A smirk crept across your lips as you met Caracalla's furious gaze, his struggles useless against the guards' hold. You wiped the last traces from your mouth, unflinching, while he spat threats of every punishment under the sun. His voice faded into the distance, growing fainter with each step as the guards dragged him away.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As soon as you stepped into your chambers, you snatched up a decorative vase, your stomach churning from the memory of his touch as you unceremoniously emptied its contents into the vase. A pang of guilt washed over you for the poor servant who would later have the misfortune of clearing it out, but you quickly brushed it aside; purging any trace of Caracalla from your system took precedence above all else.

As you crossed the threshold to the adjoining balneum, the air was thick with steam, a sensation that caused you to groan in pleasure. The gentle sound of water splashing filled the space while the frescoes adorning the walls told stories of playful nymphs dancing amongst the clouds lost amongst a blue sky. The buff marble floor cooled your feet, contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

The bathing area itself featured a large, sunken pool, its waters shimmering under the soft glow of oil lamps. To one side, a small fountain trickled water into a basin, where fresh rose petals floated, adjacent to a nearby selection of oils: patchouli, lavender, rosemary, their scents mingled in the heady, warm atmosphere. A strigil and pumice stone awaited on a shelf built into the wall, along with fine linen towels, and cloths, all carefully placed for your use.

With a soft sigh, you dipped your toes into the inviting water, allowing the robe you had worn in to drop to the marbled floor behind you. You relished the sensation as you waded in deeper, the water rising to your ankles, then your calves. Each step felt like a release, the warmth washing over you, dissolving the tension that had clung to you throughout the day.

As you reached the center of the pool, the water enveloped you completely. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back as you floated for a moment, allowing the water to cradle you. Everything felt so distant, so unimportant. The world outside faded away, and for a fleeting moment, it was just you and the serenity of the private sanctuary. You let your mind wander, thoughts drifting like the petals floating in the nearby basin.

Reaching for the bottle of patchouli oil resting on the edge of the bath, you poured a small amount into your palm, the rich, earthy scent wafting into the space. With your fingers slicked with the oil, you began to comb it carefully through your hair, taking your time to work out any knots and tame the unruly strands. Once satisfied with your hair, you took a fine cloth, its texture soft as silk against your skin, and began to bathe yourself with the perfumed oil.

With deliberate movements, you sloshed water along your body, enjoying the feeling of it cascading over your skin like a gentle waterfall. When you were ready, you dove under the water once more, the coolness contrasting deliciously with the warmth of the oil. As you rinsed yourself, you felt the excess oils wash away, the strigil waiting nearby for the final touch.

“Domina.” The tranquil moment shattered as one of your newly assigned servants peeked through the ornate doorway, her voice breaking the soothing silence.

“What is it?” you asked, trying to stall for just a moment longer.

“You’ve been summoned.”

Of course you had. It only made sense that your peaceful escape would be interrupted. You emerged from the water, droplets glistening on your skin, and caught the nervous gaze of the servant as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Come inside,” you beckoned her, and she hesitantly approached, holding out a towel like it was a fragile offering.

“Do you know how to use a strigil?” you asked, and she nodded, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

“Very well.” You dried your face with the towel, then reached for the strigil and handed it to her. “Quickly.”

With shaky hands, she began to scrape off the excess oils.

“What is your name?” you asked, trying to ease the tension as she glided the strigil along your shoulder.

“Cassia,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Cassia,” you repeated, letting the name linger in the air. “Is it Caracalla or Geta requesting me?”

“Neither, Domina,” she paused, placing the strigil back in its assigned place. “It is the Imperator.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You quickly slipped into a sleeping gown—something informal yet appropriate for the presence of the Imperator. Cassia’s hands trembled slightly as she helped you into the nightgown made of fine, onyx silk. She draped a matching robe over your shoulders, guiding your arms into the sleeves with a gentleness that put you at ease. The fabric glided down your arms, flowing behind you like a shadow as you moved to comb your damp hair away from your face.

“I believe it would be nice if you left your hair down to dry,” Cassia suggested meekly, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the looking glass.

“I can braid it when you return. It is not wise to make the Imperator wait.” Her eyes told a story, hinting at the consequences of such delays, as if she had witnessed them firsthand.

“Very well,” you agreed, sensing the urgency in her tone. “Lead me there.”

Cassia walked quickly ahead, navigating through the maze of twists and turns that made up the opulent palace. The gilded walls shimmered under the flickering sconces, casting warm glows on the marble flooring. You passed by frescoes depicting grand tales of valor and myth, the ornate pieces of art adorning each wall, their beauty almost distracting you from the nervous feeling that swirled in your gut.

Finally, you arrived at an imposing set of doors, intricately carved and adorned with symbols befitting the Imperator’s status. Cassia hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a mix of awe and fear. “I’ll wait here, Domina.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped forward. The doors swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond.

“Prima,” Septimius spoke from across the room, his voice smooth yet commanding. You crossed the threshold, your heart quickening as you made your way toward him. He sat at a side table, a decanter of wine glistening under the moonlight that spilled through the billowing curtains beside the table, casting soft shadows along the table and its contents.

“Thank you for joining me,” he said, standing to pull out a chair for you. You took your seat, the silk of your robe whispering against the chair as you settled in.

“Of course, Imperator,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. You studied his face, searching for clues about his intentions. Septimius possessed an air of authority, his graying hair slightly tousled, and his sharp features illuminated by the silvery light.

He poured a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling as he filled it, and then slid it across the table toward you. “A toast, Prima. To new beginnings.”

You accepted the glass, “To new beginnings,” you echoed, raising the glass slightly before taking a sip. As you caught his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passed in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “how do you find your new role here? The palace can be overwhelming, even for those accustomed to such grandeur.”

You considered his question carefully, weighing your words. “It is… a lot to take in,” you admitted.

“As to be expected,” he assured you, his gaze unwavering. “How are things with your new husband?”

“May I be bold, Imperator?” you asked, setting your glass down with a gentle clink, smoothing the fabric of your robe against your thighs to calm the tension that had begun to build within you.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, his expression encouraging.

You took a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “I believe I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know how things have been going.” You reached for the glass of wine again, taking a sip to wet your drying, anxious mouth.

Septimius leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his features. You spotted Geta right away in him, the way his eyes were shaped and how he looked at you like you were the most confusing thing in the world that he sought to understand. But Caracalla was there too—his fingers digging into the armrest, his middle and pointer fingers tapping an offbeat rhythm against the leather. Caracalla's fierce gaze matched Septimius’s as well as his wild curls, both full of intensity.

“True enough. The palace is a place of whispers, and my son’s reputation precedes him. Yet I am interested in your perspective—how you truly feel about your situation.”

“May I ask what brought you back early from your trip to Baiae?” you asked, genuinely curious about the reason for his fast return.

“Word travels fast,” he leaned in, lowering his voice. “I—” he paused, selecting his words with care, “am aware of what transpired earlier today.”

You nodded, a wave of shame washing over you as you pictured someone recounting the scene to the Imperator.

“I also know that you and Caracalla have not shared a bed since your wedding night.”

“I…” you sighed, “truly am doing my best. It’s just that he and I are two very different people, and I’m trying to navigate the ocean of differences between us.” You explained, your tone almost pleading.

Carefully, he slid a familiar piece of parchment your way. No need to touch it; you knew well what it said.

“How did you come by that?” you asked, brow furrowed.

“Never mind that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Do the words in this letter truly speak to your feelings?”

With a weary sigh, you opened it, your fingers dancing along its edges.

“If you wished me dead, you could’ve driven the blade yourself.” The words were yours, penned to your father a few days prior, when you felt as if being married to Caracalla was a death sentence, when tensions were at a high and you needed someone to hear you.

“It was confiscated before it left the palace,” he replied, his gaze steady as it met yours over the parchment.

“May I ask who thought it wise to spy on me and read my letters?” You laid the parchment flat, smoothing out the creases.

“You may not.” His expression was as stoic as a statue.

“I feel as if I’m being set up to fail, Imperator, as if your son wishes to see this marriage crumble, and I’ll be cast aside when I inevitably fail in my duties.” You spoke the truth plainly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“When he was, I don’t know,” he sighed, “seven or eight, we campaigned through Syria and up into the Taurus mountains.”

You leaned in, sitting up straighter, eager for him to continue.

“And I remember him shouting, ‘I’ve found another three!’ I turned around, and there he was, standing among a sea of headless corpses, yelling when he found one with its head still on. He took such joy in it; it became a sort of game for him.”

“Isn’t that what a man wants? A son who isn’t squeamish about death and war?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Of course, but not one who brings that chaos within his own walls, in his own home.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out with a weary sigh.

“And Geta,” he closed his eyes, “maybe I wasn’t hard enough on him. Maybe I learned my lesson with Caracalla. Maybe Geta is just his mother’s son.” He waved a hand dismissively, letting out a heavy sigh. “But none of this is your worry.”

He stood, and you followed, walking with him to the grand doors.

“Go and rest. After tonight, all will be well.”

You turned to question him, to ask what the gods had happened between the two of you and why it had become your concern even if he had assured you it wasn’t, but the doors swung shut before you could speak. You exchanged a bewildered glance with Cassia before heading back to your chambers.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not long after, the harsh sound of screaming pulled you from your thoughts. You followed the noise, retracing Cassia’s steps from earlier in the night, until you stumbled into Geta’s chest as he stood by the entrance to his father’s chambers.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. You peered around him, drawn to the chaos behind the door.

“I heard the shouting and got worried,” you replied. “What’s happening?”

“None of your business.” He looked down at you, his expression cold.

“Back to your rooms,” he ordered, waving you away.

“You will take your wife back into your quarters immediately!” came the booming voice of Septimius. A loud crash echoed, and you and Geta exchanged alarmed glances.

“Perhaps you should show me some respect for the title you’ve given me,” Caracalla shouted back.

“Perhaps you should earn that title, boy,” Septimius seethed.

Another crash followed, accompanied by the sound of shuffling.

“You are only Augustus and emperor of Rome by my say, Marcus! I am your father and your emperor,” Septimius continued, his voice cutting through the chaos. “I will strip you of every title and give it to your brother, who might actually appreciate it!”

Geta’s ears perked up, and a flicker of hope crossed his face as he looked toward the door.

But Septimius’s next words dashed his hopes. “Perhaps I’ll take your wife into my quarters and father a son with her. A new line of succession could be just what Rome needs.”

Another crash echoed, and grunts erupted from behind the doors.

“Look at you, bleeding like a woman,” Septimius mocked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you bled between your legs like one.”

The grand doors swung open, and Caracalla stormed toward you, his face smeared with blood. When he spat a crimson splash at your feet, you instinctively jumped back. He rushed past you, exchanging a quick glance with Geta.

“Do not follow him,” Geta warned, his voice low and tense.

But you didn’t heed his warning.

You navigated through winding hallways, twisting and turning until you reached Caracalla's chamber. He had thrown the doors open, pacing like a caged beast, blood streaming down his face.

“Get the hell out!” he bellowed, sending everything from the side table crashing to the floor.

“I refuse,” you shot back, firmly closing the door behind you.

“You went and lied to my father,” he hissed, stalking toward you like a predator. “You treacherous snake!”

“I did nothing of the sort!” you yelled back, your voice rising with anger. “He knew before he called for me.”

As he approached, the full extent of his injuries became clear. His nose was smashed, blood pouring from it, and his lip was split wide open. You roamed about his room scouring for supplies to clean him with until you found a few plain cloths on his dressing table.

“Sit.” You were shocked when he followed the command, sitting on the side of the bed, brow pinched at the way you had spoken to him.

“We must work together until I’m with child,” you said, as he winced a bit when you pressed a clean cloth against his split lip. “Then, once a son is born, you can send me off to whatever warm rock you fancy.”

“But first,” you said as you settled beside him on the bed, “we need to stop this bleeding.”

He placed his hand over yours, pressing down harder against his lip, a silent agreement forged in a simple touch.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Tag list:

@alwaysahiccupandastrid

@justnobodynothingmore

Dividers:

@ghoulbloggerrr

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VIII

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, well. Here another chapter for you my dears ! I hope you'll enjoy it! Reader and Alastor are getting closer and closer it's adorable...For now.

You went back inside with Alastor, his jacket still draped over your shoulder. Alice waved at you before staring at Alastor then at you, with a big smile. What? You sat back down on your chair and listened to the conversation which was now about the war. You didn't really want to talk about that for Christmas but..

You felt Alice nudged you, making you look at her confused, she was observing you with a teasing expression. You raised your eyebrows, before leaning toward her, she immediately whispered in your ear as you took a sip of water.

“ Your lipstick is smudged.”

She leaned back with an amused grin and pointed discreetly toward Alastor. You followed the direction she pointed and almost choked on your water. Alastor had lipstick on his lips ! You blushed furiously, did somebody else notice it ? You looked at everyone  around the table but they were way too focused on the conservation, even Alastor was talking with them. You hide your lips behind a napkin , staring at Alice with wide eyes. 

She seemed delighted ; hiding her smile behind her gloved hands. Should you go to the bathroom, to wash up? But it wouldn’t clean Alastor’s lips. You touched Alastor’s tights with your palm, which made him take your hand in his, his gaze turning toward you. You tried to point to his lips but he only smiled wider before tilting his head toward you. You leaned toward him and opened your mouth but he cut you off.

“ You already want another one?”

You threw yourself back against your chair as Alastor was laughing, throwing his head back. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the both of you, confused and curious. You took your glass, hiding your face behind it as they tried to coat you to tell them what had happened. It was Alastor who spoke first.

“ I just reminded my dearest friend that being gluttonous was bad,” he said with a cunning smile. Oh, he looked so full of himself ! You wanted him to be flustered as you were! “ You might get addicted!”

“ Unlike you, I don't have food all over my mouth.” You closed one eye, staring at him with the other as you drank from your glass. Take that Alastor! And please read between the lines… “ and as you know my dear Alastor, since our younger age, you always were the glutton one.” you smirked as you remembered how he would eat so much for the tiny body he used to have.

Alastor just smiled with a teasing expression. You stuck discreetly your tongue at him as the guests were laughing with Alastor, saying how a grown man like him needed to eat so he shouldn’t feel bad for eating so much. You’ve never seen Alastor naked but you knew that he was strong. He could easily throw you on his shoulder when he wanted to do something you didn’t want.

“ You know that when I like something, I can’t help but crave more until there is nothing left for others to share.”

You almost spat the water on the table, your eyes wide open. Was he still talking about food ? You felt your body suddenly getting warmer. You didn’t understand why a sentence like this could make you react like this.

“ Ooh Alastor, you have such a way with words. What else can that mouth do?” said a lady, who seemed to have drunk more alcohol than water. You blushed as she leaned toward Alastor making her chest bigger with her arms. What was she doing ? You almost hid your face, feeling so embarrassed but you wanted to see Alastor’s reaction. Did he like this kind of woman?

“ It bites.” He said with a dangerous smile. You could see your lipstick on his lips, making it seemed like it was blood. You didn’t know why you liked it. You shook your head, what were you thinking? A bloody Alastor wasn’t attractive ! The sweet juices must have been alcohol for you to think such a thing about your friend. You finished your glass, you were getting tired now, and frankly you wanted to go home. You were feeling cold even with Alastor’s blazer on your shoulder. You ignored the lady’s giggles as you stood up, Alastor following soon after you.

“ Well, I think we are ready to go back home.” you smiled at Alice and John who seemed sad that you were already leaving. You hugged Alice as you explained that your feet were killing you, you danced all night and you weren’t used to those kinds of heels. Alastor shook hands with some people and you went toward a butler who gave your coat back.

You gave back his blazer to Alastor and then you left the mansion which was still buzzing with energy and music. You looked at the sky and sighed. Come on, only 35 minutes and you would be able to throw off your shoes. You could almost feel your legs trembling because of the pain.

“ Hold onto me.”

You squealed as Alastor crouched before you and lifted you in his arms, just like a bride. He began to walk. You were impressed, he had danced even more than you and yet he could carry you without breaking a sweat. You touched his lips with your cold fingers, making him look at you.

“ You know you have lipstick on your lips?”

“ Well, yes.” You stared at him, eyes wide opened. What did he say? He knew? How? “ Dear, when you kissed me I could see that your lipstick wasn’t as clean as before. And with Alice’s reaction, it just confirmed my thoughts.” he smiled teasingly at you but his eyes were full with warmth. 

“ But… Why did you not wipe it?”

He kept walking in silence for a moment, even making you believe that he wouldn’t answer you. Sometimes Alastor would just stare at you and not answer your question and you knew that it meant that he wasn’t ready to share what he thought, so you would just give up and talk about something else. You sighed in relief as you saw your home. Finally.

“ I wanted to feel you a little longer.”

You looked at him as he put you on the stairs in front of the door. You tilted your head, he wanted to feel you a little longer..? You took his hand with yours and smiled softly at him, you knew from his expression that he didn’t want to have that conversation right now, even with his usual smile. You quietly opened the door and realized that nobody was up, you could see bottles of wine on the living room’s table but your mothers were nowhere to be seen. You took off your shoes and almost moaned in bliss. Finally…

You went upstairs and took a peek inside your mother’s bedroom and smiled. Marie and your mother were both asleep on your parent’s bed, you could feel Alastor leaning his chest against your back as he stared at his mother. You guessed he wanted to be sure she was okay.

You went into your bedroom and fell on your bed, you just wanted to sleep..

“ Nu-uh miss, you are going to wash your face and take off your clothes.” you felt Alastor’s hands on your waist as he dragged you toward the bathroom. You groaned, you were so tired… You could wash up tomorrow.. He made you sit on the bathtub’s edge and he kneeled before you. He took a tissue and began to take off your makeup, beginning with your eyes, forcing you to close them. 

“ Alastooor…” you moaned, trying to to coat him in letting you go. “ I just want to sleep…” 

“ And I want you to go to bed clean, so be quiet and let me work.” he said as he wiped your lips. You nodded while opening your eyes, the faster it was done, the faster you could go to bed. “ Good girl.” he smirked at you with a mocking glint in his eyes.

You bit his finger, the one which was still wiping your mouth. You stared at him, trying to look dangerous. You… didn’t like when he was saying “good girl” in that tone, like you were someone he could easily manipulate, someone that wasn’t special to him. He looked calmly at his finger then at your eyes. You didn't know what he was thinking and it was killing you. Yes, you could read him easier than most people but Alastor stayed a mystery for you sometimes… Like right now.

He leaned toward you, making you lean back, keeping his finger between your teeth, until your back was at the bottom of the bathtub. He climbed above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“ I recall being the one who said that I bite…” he looked at you calmly as you stared at him with angry eyes. You smirked, keeping his finger against your teeth, you always loved  when you succeeded in  surprising him. It was such a thrill.. What could you do now.. Oh! You let his finger go and smiled sweetly at him.

“ You wanted me to be clean, right?” He titled his head before you quickly opened the water. You hid underneath his body as the water fell upon his body. You laughed as you saw his face. His eyes were wide open and his smile looked like a grimace, but he was staring at you. He quickly turned off the water and fell on you, his face near your neck. “ Ouch! Alastor, you’re heavy!” 

You felt his arms holding you against him, squeezing you so hard that you could feel your chest being crushed against his torso. He was getting your dress wet now! You tried to run away but you couldn't move from his hold and you could feel his smile on his lips against your neck. You sighed, giving up. You took a strand of wet hair, it was beginning to be curly. You smiled, you liked his curly hair, it was cute! 

“ I think it’s past midnight , so Merry Christmas.”

“ Merry Christmas, Alastor.” you closed your eyes as you hugged him as hard as he was squeezing you. You felt him gasped against your skin, tickling you. You stayed like this for a moment before you were feeling really cold. Alastor helped you get out of the bathtub, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were clean! You went into the bathroom and looked at the dress. How were you supposed to take it off without tearing it? Last time, Alice was the one to help you take it off.

“ Alastor, can you help me with my dress?”

“ Of course dear” he approached you and dragged the zip down. You thanked him but didn’t move when you felt his gaze on your back. You turned your head toward him with a curious expression. He was looking at your back with a straining smile. “ I hope nobody will ever backstab you… Can I..?” he whispered as he held his hand toward your back. You nodded and closed your eyes when you felt his other hand covered your eyes. For years, you kept this game you had created, hiding your eyes and telling a secret.. And Alastor loved using this game against you.

 You felt the tips of his finger caress your naked back. You shivered, you wondered why? Were you cold? His touch was timid, but when you took a step back to get closer to him you felt his palm against your body. He moved his hand from your spine until he back of your hair. You tilted your head back. You didn’t really know what was happening.. The moment was a little scary, but because it was Alastor, you were feeling safe. He moved your hair from your back, sliding it on your shoulder.

“ Keep your eyes closed…” he took his hand from your eyes and then you felt both of his hands on your back, touching your hot skin. 

God…

You sighed as he slid his nails against your epidermis. It felt like he was tracing lines. Was he writing something ?

“ Alastor..” you whispered and he hummed in response. “ Can I… Can I do the same..?” you felt him flinching and you bit your lips. Were you too greedy? Did you break the moment you were having? You knew that Alastor was being vulnerable right now… You knew he had problems with others' touch. Something you had to learn even if it did hurt you when you were younger. 

“ If you keep your eyes closed.”

You gasped as his finger dipped softly into your skin.? He said yes? He said yes, he said yes, he said yes. 

He took his hand off your back, which you were already missing, and you heard him take off his clothes. You kept your eyes closed, you would never betray his trust. Never. Youknew it was another step in your friendship.. Was it a friendship… Was Alastor just a friend? …

Did you want Alastor to stay as a friend? 

“ I will be sitting down, my back toward you.”

You felt his hand take yours and bring it toward him. You didn’t want to touch his skin right now, you could feel his hand shake a little. You put your hand on his curly hair and stroke it. You wouldn’t touch him unless he was relaxed.

“ Tell me if you want me to stop. Tap me somewhere on my body.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel him squeeze your hands. You breathed and began to trail your hand near his shoulder. You caressed them softly, from the tips of your finger, just like Alastor did.

Just like he did, you would make him feel safe.

You slid the tips of your finger on his back and you felt him tensed. You stopped, waiting for him to tell you it was too much. He didn’t speak and you waited for his body to relax once more before touching once again his back. You began to put more pressure on your touch, your fingers were caressing his hot skin. Was he sweating ?

“ You are beautiful, Alastor.”

“ You say that because you keep your eyes closed when you are with me.”

“ Then, let me open them.”

“...No, not yet.”

“ Alright.” you smiled a little, you didn’t want him to feel like you were upset. Right now, he was giving you more than he could imagine. You leaned toward your hands and pecked his skin. You felt him tense immediately. “ I’m sorry–”

“ No.. No, it’s okay.. I.. I was just surprised.”

You leaned your forehead against his back, your eyes still closed. Has Alastor ever been backstabbed ? Was that why he was so protective of you? Was that why he always held distance with others? You remembered him telling you once when you were children : 

“ A betrayal always comes from your own house.”

Was he talking about his dad? You only knew that Alastor didn’t like his father but that was it. You didn’t like his father because you felt like Alastor wasn’t safe with him… 

You felt Alastor moved and you leaned back. You kept your eyes closed, as long as he didn’t tell you to open them, you would keep them close. You would accept all of Alastor when he was ready. You waited for him to talk but you could only hear your own breathing.

“ Alastor.. Where..?”

“ I’m here, you are caged between my legs right now.” 

You scoffed at the choice of his words.

“ I’m caged ?” you teased him, tilting your head against his legs. You were beginning to be very tired…

“ With me.” you felt his lips against your forehead.” Would you like that? Being caged with me?” he whispered, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Was he afraid of your answer? Should you be afraid that you didn’t hesitate ?

“ Yes.”

You gasped as he tugged you against his naked torso, hugging you so hard, you were almost choking but you embraced him even harder. You desperately wanted to see his face but he wasn’t ready right now. So you would wait…

He let you go and you waited a moment before he said you could open your eyes. You turned to look at him, he was wearing a pajama that belonged to your father. He went downstairs and you put on your nightgown.

What had just happened ? You felt like your bond, who was already deep, just deepened once more. You turned your head toward the door as you saw Alastor with your cup, you could already smell the  sweet scent of hot chocolate. You smiled at him as he gave you your cup and you drank eagerly.

“ I hope you’ll get warmer with this… disgusting brevage.”

“ Alastor, you have no taste. Who drinks coffee without sugar or with some sweets?”

“ Me.”

You shook your head, laughing quietly. You didn’t want to wake up your mothers. You finished your cup and went under the cover. Alastor joined you; you looked at him. You couldn’t see any trace of fatigue.

“ You think you’ll be able to sleep a little?”

“ Mhn… Who knows.” he closed his eyes with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes at him before falling asleep not even five minutes later.

You woke up hours laters, drooling on your pillow. What time was it..? You looked around, you could hear noises downstairs and Alastor wasn’t next to you anymore. You yawned as you stretched your body just like a cat. Thinking of cats, you’ll have to visit Husker next time. 

You took your robe and went downstairs, going straight toward the living room where everyone was. You hugged your mother and Marie wishing them a Merry Christmas. You looked around, Alastor wasn’t there?

“ How was your soirée sweetie?” asked Marie with a soft smile. You told them how big the mansion was, how there were so many guests, how you sang with a band, that you and Alastor danced. It was a really good soirée. You looked at the Christmas’s tree, you didn’t even notice the presents below the tree. When did you mothers put it here, it wasn’t there when you came home last night.

“ Well, it’s time to open the presents!” said your mother with absolute glee! She went toward the tree and gave Marie’s your present. She seemed really touched. You smiled at her, Marie’s was someone important for you now, so of course you would make something for her ! 

“ You bought my Mother a gift?” you felt Alastor leaned against you with a happy grin.

“ I made it, she is the one who has to support you everyday, she is a real hero!” you kissed both of his cheeks with a teasing grin. 

“ Oh dear, did you make it ?” she smiled at you as she showed everyone your handkerchiefs. It wasn’t perfect but you did try your best. You nodded and she stood up before hugging you. You sigh in relief, okay, it went well.

Everyone gave their presents. You were surprised when Alastor gave your mother a gift, thanking her for everything she has done for his mother. Your mother almost cried but she composed herself quickly. It was a perfume! Wasn’t that scarily expensive ?

Marie gifted you a book with all of her recipes. You couldn't wait to try it! Alastor suggested that you should wait for him to be with you if you wanted to try some of them, for security’s purpose. 

You took the gift you had for Alastor. Alright, now or never. You walked toward him with, you hoped, a relaxed smile but from his observing eyes, you must have failed. You put the little package in his hand.

“ Merry Christmas Alastor.”

He stared at you but opened his present. His eyes widened as he saw a beautiful watch.  You had a hard time buying a watch that looked luxurious but wasn’t too expensive. Thank God Alice had contacts everywhere.

“ Well, dear… I’m flattered.” he said with a genuine smile, already putting the watch around his wrist. You relaxed, every gift was given, you could relax now. You sat on the sofa with a sigh. Who would have thought Christmas could be so stressful? 

“ Stand up dear, I still didn’t give you my gift?”

You tilted your head but stood up. Alastor made you turn your back to him after he put his gift in your hand. You looked at him curiously but he just made a movement with his head toward the gift. You opened it carefully and gasped.

Into a beautiful white cloth  was a beautiful necklace who looked like gold with a red stone hanging from it. You stared at him, your mouth wide open. How..?

You felt Alastor getting closer, carefully taking the necklace.

“ May I?”

You nodded as he put on the necklace around your neck. You touched the red stone with a moved smile. You would never take it off. You saw from the corner of your eyes your mothers giggling behind their hands as they watched you. You rolled your eyes, amused. Who were the adults here? You felt Alastor hands on your shoulder and he whispered in your ear.

“ Merry Christmas, my dear.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz@boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi

[scoonsalicious]

Unsatisfied, Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky FINALLY come back together.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Explicit Sexual Content: Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (PIV), some brief Cunthage.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: IT'S PORN!

“If she won’t finish for you, Jamie,” Jade purred, sliding herself onto Bucky’s lap, “then I will.”

You watched your phone screen in disgust and heartbreak as Bucky leaned forward and took Jade’s mouth with his own, moaning at the taste of her lips. “I missed you, Vix,” he said as he began to grind his hips into hers. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”

You tried to disconnect from the FaceTime call, but the button was frozen, the scene continuing to play out in front of you against your will. You dropped the phone and refused to look at it, but you could still hear the sounds of their moans as they moved against one another.

“Jamie,” Jade panted as she came up for breath in between kisses, “I have a surprise for you.” Suddenly, you were in the room with them, no longer watching through the phone. 

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky asked her, stroking a hand through her long black tresses. “What’s that?”

Jade smiled and took Bucky’s hand, placing it lovingly against her now swollen, rounded belly. “I’m pregnant, Jamie, and it’s yours!”

Bucky’s eyes lit up in delight; you had never seen him look so happy before. “Oh, doll!” he exclaimed, capturing Jade’s mouth in another kiss. “You’re having my baby? I’m gonna be a daddy? This is the happiest moment of my life!”

You tried to scream at him, to remind him that no, it was you that had been pregnant with his child. You who had been going to make him a father, but the words were stuck, frozen in your throat. You could only watch as Jade’s belly continued to grow before your eyes, Bucky cradling the incubating life as though it were the most precious thing in existence. 

“She’s having my baby, Pocket!” he said, eventually turning to you and acknowledging your presence for the first time. “Isn’t that wonderful? I’m going to be a dad!”

“But I was going to give you a baby!” you cried to him. “I was the one who was pregnant! Not her!”

The look Bucky gave you was withering in its pity. “Yeah, but look what happened, Pocket. You can’t seriously expect another chance, after all that. Don’t ruin this for me. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a father.” He turned his focus back to Jade, cupping her face in his hands. “And now my sweet Vix is gonna give me that.” He kissed her once again, soft and gentle. “The mother of my child,” he cooed. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved another woman.”

You awoke with a start, panting as you tried to catch your breath. A nightmare, you told yourself. Just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Jade was never pregnant. Bucky loved you. Jade was never pregnant. Jade was dead.

You repeated the mantras over and over to yourself until you felt your heart slow. With a sigh, you turned over and stared at Bucky’s empty side of the bed. The last you’d heard from him, the team was going to have to engage with the terrorists threatening Shanghai, and he might be radio-silent for a few days. 

You couldn’t help it– the lack of communication had made you think of the Russia mission. Which was probably what brought on the nightmare. No, not probably. It was definitely what had brought on the nightmare, because you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he’d gone no-contact. You should probably call your therapist in the morning, you thought. Schedule an emergency appointment to talk this out before your thoughts got out of hand.

You were about to put a reminder in your phone, in case you forgot when you woke up in the morning, when you heard a sound– the low hum of the private elevator reaching your penthouse apartment. Your entire body froze as your eyes glanced at the clock. 1:54am. The only person you knew who had access to that elevator at this time of night was on the opposite side of the world.

Unless. 

Hope dared to bloom in your chest as you threw yourself out of the bed, not even bothering with a robe to cover the fact that all you were wearing was a pair of panties and one of Bucky’s shirts. On bare feet, you ran through the polished hardwood hallways, making it to the foyer just as the lock on the front door disengaged. Someone had entered the code.

You held your breath as the door slowly opened. He was bathed in silhouette by the light in the exterior entryway, but you’d know the shape of him anywhere.

“Buck!” you cried, running toward your super soldier. He barely had time to drop his go-bag to the floor before you leapt at him, and he was holding you in his arms, kissing you as though his very life depended on it, and dear god, it felt so good, so right, to have him pressed against you, to be holding you like this again, after all this time. 

“Doll,” he groaned, drawing your lips to his again, as though you were oxygen, itself. “Fuck, baby. Missed you so much.”

You thought to ask him how the mission went, if the team had been successful, but all of that could wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his lips on yours, the sweep of his tongue into your mouth, the pull of his hands on your ass, the way his back muscles tightened beneath your grip. You had craved this for so long, only to be denied; you’d be damned if you let anything interrupt you this time.

“Bed,” you managed to get out in between kisses. “Now.”

You felt the beautiful, familiar rumble of Bucky’s laugh in his chest as he kissed you. “‘M filthy, sweets. Got blood all over me. Don’t you want me to wash up first?”

You pulled back so you could study his face in the dim light; you could make out the teasing glint in his eyes as he looked back at you, and it drove you wild. “Fuck now,” you panted, your hands reaching down to start working the buttons of his vest. “Shower sex later,” you added. 

Bucky chuckled and brought his lips to your ear. “There’s my dirty girl,” he whispered before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting it. “Can’t tell you how much I missed that mouth.”

Oh, that was it. Forget the bed. You’d have him take you right here on the floor. Dropping your legs from around his waist, you helped him take off his vest, than his tac-shirt. Bucky sucked in a breath as your hands roamed the achingly familiar lines of his chest, committing every muscle and divet of flesh back to memory. 

“My turn,” he murmured darkly as his hands slipped to the hem of your shirt. You raised your hands so he could slide the offending garment over your head with ease, and it was soon flung off into the darkness, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties before him, chest heaving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. Bringing his flesh hand up, he traced the contour of your left breast with a featherlight touch, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re so fucking perfect, Pocket.”

The thought of your bullet scar entered your mind briefly, but was instantly driven out by the sensation of Bucky’s mouth latching onto your nipple and sucking at the tender flesh. His tongue lapped over the nub, biting and pulling while you threaded your hands through his hair and yanked him closer. 

“Forgot how good you taste,” he murmured, moving to your other breast. You slid your hands from his hair and began working on unzipping his pants. “Gonna get my tongue on every inch of you.”

“Off,” you whined, a desperate beg as you began tugging the material down his legs. “Please, baby.”

“Gimme just a second, love.” Bucky grunted as he kicked off his boots and began working his pants down his legs. You shifted anxiously from foot to foot while you watched him, before deciding to roll your panties down your own hips. When you eventually stepped out of them, you looked back up to find Bucky’s ravenous gaze transfixed on your body. There was not an ounce of revulsion or disappointment in his eyes– just lust and hunger. 

“Come ‘ere, sweets,” he growled, opening his arms to you. You jumped back into his arms, groaning at the way his hard cock pressed perfectly into the crevice of your thighs. He bucked his hips once, twice, all the while kissing down your neck to your collarbone and back up again.

“Lemme open you up,” he panted, his lips just a hare’s breath from yours as you felt one of his hands snake down toward your clit. “It’s been so long– I don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”

But you’d waited long enough. “Now’s not the time for foreplay, baby. If I don’t have your cock inside of me in the next ten seconds, I might actually die.”

Bucky chuckled darkly at your desperation, but turned so he could brace your back against the front door. “I wanna make sure you’re ready,” he cautioned. 

Oh, but you were ready. You were so ready, you were dripping, could feel the gush of your arousal as you ground yourself down over his erection, coating him in your juices. He was so close, and you needed to have him closer. 

“No more waiting,” you begged. Taking your hand and sliding it between your bodies, you grabbed a hold of his thickness, your hand nearly shaking as it became reacquainted with his girth. After giving it two long strokes, you aligned him with your weeping entrance and slammed your hips down, impaling yourself on his cock.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you cried, the sensation blistering somewhere between agony and ecstasy. He was so big, the feel of him stretching you out consuming you, setting every nerve ending on fire, and it was like the first time, all over again, but so much better. You wanted so badly for him to move, but Bucky held annoyingly still. You looked up at him to find his eyes scrunched shut, his jaw clenched. “Bucky?” you asked cautiously.

“Fuck, Pocket,” he managed to get out through his gritted teeth. “Forgot… forgot how fucking tight you are, sweets. Fuck. Feel… so… hng… so fucking good. Need a minute, or ‘m gonna blow right now.”

A minute. He was already seated so fully inside of you, you could give him a minute. “One minute, Barnes,” you teased, nipping at his jaw, “and then I am going to need you to ruin me, just like you promised.”

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, and you felt his hips unconsciously press up into you. “You’re so good to me, pretty girl. Love you so fucking much.” He slammed his lips back against yours, the kiss possessive, needy, and you kissed him back with abandon, trying to make up for all your lost time. All you wanted was to be connected to him, like this, for the rest of your life.

“Minute’s over, Buck; need you to move,” you moaned, aching for friction between your legs. “Fuck me, baby. Please.” 

You weren’t going to have to tell him twice. With a feral roar, Bucky began slamming in and out of you, rutting like an animal as he pounded you against the front door of the apartment. And it was… It was everything, even better than you’d remembered, even better than you had imagined. A tiny part of you had feared you’d hyped the sensations in your memory, that there was no way he could have lived up to the ecstasy you had remembered, but nothing could hold a candle to the way it felt to have him slide his cock in and out of you in this very moment.

It was the lack of barriers, you realized as you threw your head back, allowing him access to kiss and suck at the delicate flesh of your neck. There was no Carthage between you, no walls, no miscommunications or omissions, no lies or decits. There was just pure, unadulterated love and need, and that made the entire thing so much better. 

Without warning, Bucky pulled out and smoothly twisted you so that he was entering you again from behind, allowing him to hit deeper. You could feel him broach that spot deep inside, just above your cervix, and you knew you weren’t going to last.

“B-B-Bucky,” you stuttered, trying to get his name out. “Gonna cum.”

“I know, baby,” he cooed as he kept thrusting, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass in a beautiful, erotic rhythym. “I got you. Cum all over my cock, sweets. Wanna feel you squeeze me.” He snaked a hand around your waist and his thumb found your clit, pressing down on it and circling the bundle of nerves.

You leaned back and gripped his forearms for support as he continued to massage your A-spot with the tip of his dick, and in moments, you were coming completely undone. Every nerve in your body was alight, and you were shaking, gasping for breath as the pleasure washed over you in endless waves. Your knees gave out, but Bucky held you up, kept you from falling as aftershocks rolled through you. “I got you, sweets,” he murmured, nuzzling his lips into the side of your head to kiss your temple. Not a single part of your body felt like it was under your own control in that moment– it all belonged to him, and to him alone. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bucky held you as you came down from your high, sliding himself out slowly once you had stopped convulsing, and you noticed he was still rock hard.

You raised a questioning eyebrow at your boyfriend– he hadn’t allowed himself to cum. 

“Do me a favor, sweets,” he began as he picked you up and carried you into the living room. You nodded dumbly as he bent you over the arm of the couch before positioning himself behind you, gently rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“Anything, Buck,” you promised.

“Remind me again, how many guys you fucked in Atlantic City?”

You spun your head around to look at him, suddenly concerned. Why would he bring that up? Why now?

“Um… I don’t remember?” you tried unconvincingly. 

“Come on, doll,” he purred, running his cool vibranium hand up and down the length of your spine. “I know that’s not true. If I recall correctly, it was twenty-eight, wasn’t it?”

You tried to stand up, worried about the direction this conversation was taking, but Bucky had draped his body over yours. “Yeah,” you said eventually. “But… what does that matter now, Buck? I thought…”

You could feel the still-hard length of him move against your slit. “Because, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft and loving, yet laced with a hint of posessiveness, “tonight, I’m gonna make you cum for every single one of them. Gonna fuck the memory of ‘em right outta you. Remind you that you’re my girl, and I’m your guy. Forever.”

Your entire body shivered at his words, and his promise. If he wanted to make you cum twenty eight times in one night, well, you certainly weren’t going to tell him ‘no.’

“I am your girl, Buck,” you assured him. “But if you wanna remind the fuck outta me, by all means, feel free.”

You felt Bucky chuckle as he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the divot in your spine right above your ass. “Hold on to something, doll. It’s gonna be a long night.”

*

The foyer. The couch. The kitchen counter. The lounge chair on the terrace. Your desk. His desk. The dining room table. The shower. The ladder in the library. If there was a surface in your apartment even remotely suitable for fucking, Bucky took you on it that night. 

You’d had to tap out of penetration after orgasm number twenty– you were pretty sure you’d started to chafe, and now it was just after dawn and he was bringing you to a tortrously slow number twenty eight with his head firmly fixed between your thighs. God, you’d missed the magic that tongue could do.

“Last one, baby,” he panted as he pulled back for air with a smirk. “For now.” Your hands went to your breasts, tugging at your peaked nipples as he sucked your clit between his lips, driving you to the brink one final time. He’d edged you for this one, pulling you to the precipice before yanking you back, again and again, without letting you fall, so when the time finally came, you were a wreck, tears streaming down your face in relief as he climbed back up to kiss your face.

“You alright, doll?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him as you shook with the aftershocks. He planted a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, holding you so sweetly.

You were so sensitive– overstimulated. Not just your body, but your heart, as well, and though it might have been the cheesiest thought you’d ever had, that didn’t make it any less true.

“I missed you so much,” you told him as you held him to you, the sweat cooling on your bodies and making you shiver. 

“I’m back now,” he said, running his fingers up and down your arm. “Never meant for the mission to last as long as it did.”

“Not just from being in China,” you clarified. “I missed all of this, us, so much.”

He squeezed you tighter, and you got the distinct impression that, if he could pull you to live inside of his skin with him, he would. “Me, too, doll. Maybe I’ll talk to Stark about taking me off the roster for a little bit. See about the two of us spending some uninterrupted time together.”

“I’d like that,” you said, trying to fight off a yawn. You’d now been awake for almost twenty-four hours; you knew you were both probably exhausted, but you were terrified that if you fell asleep, you’d wake up to discover that last night was a dream, and you were alone again. “Why don’t we try to get some sleep, sweets,” Bucky suggested. 

“‘M afraid, if I close my eyes, you’ll vanish on me,” you admitted. “Like, poof! You’ll turn to dust.”

Bucky laughed and shifted, so that you were now laying with your head on his chest. “I worry about the same thing,” he said. “So, tell you what: How ‘bout we both promise not to disappear into dust, and in a few hours we can wake up and do this all over again?”

You smiled sleepily, a sensation of warmth spreading out from your belly. You had the rest of your lives to spend together, and nothing was going to get in the way of that now. You should have known– Bucky Barnes would never leave you unsatisfied.

<- Part 2

[reverie-verse]

Ooops Mating Bond - Azriel x Reader

Prompt: The time you accepted the mating bond by force feeding your mate who hadn’t eaten all day. Your a younger than Tarquin so like 40. You’re a chef for the inner circle.

Yoo so this is my first time writing an Acotar fic, ummmm also Az is my favorite right now so don’t judge. Umm I hope you enjoy it!

Also fluff❤️ lemme know if you want more! Ps I promise in the future I will grammar check okay, cuz this ish is so getting out of hand 😭😭😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you first joined the inner circle it was Mor, Cassian and Nesta who had found you. You were just a plain old fisher woman, you would go out on your little boat in the early mornings (mostly) to catch as many fish you could. You’d sell them to the other restaurants. You’d take whatever earnings you’d receive and hit the market. You’d buy various Ingredients for various dishes. In the time between you would take a nap before you prepared your dishes. Later in the evening you’d wake up and begin preparing different meals and pack them. It would be nearing toward the later part of the night. You’d pack your food cart and push it towards the direction of Rita’s. The night life there was always vibrant. You figured a change in crowd might be more beneficial to you.

There you stood with your cart and all, food hot and ready to be eaten. Mor had stumbled out of the club with Amren, Varian, and Azriel. They had been giggling to no end with smiles on their faces and twinkles in their eyes. Mor was the one who had rushed to your cart when she had smelt the variety of foods. She was more than delighted to pay for the entire cart of food. Amren complained that it was too much until she had tasted your food. Then she argued with Mor even though she particularly didn’t enjoy food about getting half the cart. Varian only laughed at his lover while Mor very seriously attempted to pull out money to pay for the entire cart. Azriel on the other hand had remained quiet. He watched you with careful eyes assessing you, and the cart. He had found it odd that he had never seen you before anywhere in Velaris. The fact that you had parked your cart out and near Rita’s. He had no reasons to truly believe you were to cause any harm.

Azriels face remained stoic and brooding but as a shadow singer and one of the most fear Illyrian spy you only smiled and offered him a pastry and some savory food. The Shadowsinger was taken back, everyone was so afraid of him he hadn’t expected you to outright smile at him. He reached into his pocket to fish out his money, his sapphiron's flickered in the street light. You moved your hand over the cart stoping his.

“ It’s on the house-”

He looked at you as if you spoke another language and you continued grinning. “ -For now. But when you come back I’ll charge you and your crew. Shadow man-.” You watched as he bit into the food. His whole body sagged at the taste of the food. It was rather comforting and it certainly hit the spot. You had packed the food into containers as you handed them to Azriel who was quietly enjoying his food. Mor and Amren had squealed with joy as Varian helped the struggling eater with the containers. You had closed up shop heading on your way home. Sure you had made money that night but it was worth it watching them express happiness over the food they had consumed.

It was like that for weeks and each time they had paid for the entire cart. With each passing day a new member of the inner circle would visit the cart along with your returning customers. At one point Feyre had asked why Mor, why everyone was so invested in a small food stand. To which she only replied “ The food is divine” So Feyre went and tried it with her friends and family. Needless to say she immediately demanded Rhysand to offer you a job to work for them. Whether it was at the River House, the Town House or the House of Wind. Rhys agreed without a second thought everyone was overjoyed that their favorite person would be joining them.

The High Lord and Lady appeared on your boat offering you a job which you gladly accepted. Months later you found yourself working in all three houses cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. You enjoyed your job more than anything in the world. The best part was that you got to live there and a person who lingered in the shadows…. Traveling became much easier. Though it was horrible when you had to walk up those ten thousand steps with groceries. When you reached the top Azriel was quick to help you with the groceries it was a coincidence he had gotten there the same time you did. Thankfully that only happened one time. That was the only night the inner circle had no dinner and everyone was mad at those stairs because of it. This time around everyone had decided to stay at the River house.

You smiled at the memory as you finished today's breakfast having Nuala and Cerridwen place the dishes on the table. You began working on lunch for the day. You could hear the inner circle chatting at the table eating their food. Busy Bodies all of them, you chuckled to yourself. You waited though for a voice in particular one that was always brooding in the dark corner, with flying globs of shadows. Speaking of shadows one in particular found a safe place to rest as it wraps itself around your wrist. You looked at the shadow and whispered to it “ Where’s your master?” You were definitely joking when you had asked the question. Though the shadow seemed to believe you had meant it. It unravels itself from your wrist in a hot pursuit to find its master. You shake your head as you roll the dough.

After an hour or two everyone had cleared the table and set off to do their duties for the time being before lunch. Even as Nuala and Cerridwen were the maidens of Feyre they stuck close by you. They watched every movement you made and you knew who they reported too. Between them and the shadows you had no idea what to do. Azriel seemed to have kept all eyes on you at all times just as Rhys does with Feyre. The two were far more alike than you’d be willing to admit out loud. You and Azriel were barely mated. It snapped a month ago when he had come home from a mission. It had been a rough one and you both found yourselves together expressing hidden unrequited love amongst other things. However you hadn’t made a meal specifically for him yet.

………………….

You had finished with lunch fairly early helping the twins set the table. You watched as the entire inner circle piled in. Elain sniffs the air gently “ Oh Y/N this smells amazing!” as she settles herself down in a chair. Nesta, not far behind her sister, finds a place to sit and she grins, which was enough said in her case. Cassian right behind Nesta and Mor hot on his heels, he shoves Mor. “I AM STARVING!”

Mor shoves “ You Pig, save some for me!!” She lunges for the table Cassian doing the same. You laugh at the two as they fought for a specific dish they wanted. Feyre and Rhys both emerged making their way to the table.

“ Don’t start fighting, guys there's plenty of food” You laughed at your two friends who were eyeing the same pastry platter but further down the table, within a second both were scrambling for it.

“ Oh wow Y/N I think this is the best spread of food you’ve made” Feyre smiles at you before taking her place at the table. Grabbing her plate and piling on the food. The table had been covered in various fruits, vegetable dishes, sandwiches and meat dishes, even some rice dishes as well. You attempted this time around to try a new pastry dish which was completely devoured by Mor and Cassian. You could see why everyone was so eager to eat it looked good.

“ Thank you, I really appreciate that” You gave her an accomplished smile. You were proud that it looked even though you felt you could’ve done better. This was good for now and everyone had the look of It hit the spot on their faces. So take that overthinking brain.

Rhys turned to you he was about to say something when Amren came barreling into the room, excitement etched on her face. “My favorite time of day!” She too also lunged for the table.

“ Looks like you finally curbed your appetite,” Nesta says from her spot.

Amren glared at Nesta “Even in this fae body, I wouldn’t mind attempting to see if my old appetite still lingers, girl”

Rhys chucked “ Enough Amren eat your lunch Y/N had worked so hard to prepare this exquisite meal for us” Rhys had taken his seat as well gathering food to put on his plate. You took a seat next to Elain taking a rest before heading back to the kitchen. You liked to hear the chatter amongst the group and about how their days were going. You were quiet and just enjoying the simplicity of it. Until your mind wandered to Azriel, who hadn’t been there for breakfast and now lunch.

You felt talons in your mind gently tapping on your shielded mind. You knew it was Rhys by how his mental talons scratched at your mind. Feyre had never done it to you but you assumed that she was a much more gentle experience than Rhys, no offense to him. You let him slip into your mind easily.

“ Why so sad little chef?”

“ Little Chef? Haha, very original old man. Where is he?” You watched as Feyre and Elain talked about her garden in the town house. Cassian slumped back in his chair giving himself a tummy rub. Nesta rolls her eyes at him as he gives her a rather suggestive look. Mor cackled when she noticed the interaction. Amren paid no mind to anyone sneaking more food onto her plate while stealing off of everyone else's.

“ Ouch, old man? Do remind me of who we are talking about again, Little Chef ” You sided eyed Rhys as his shoulders shook slightly from holding in a laugh.

“You play too many games, old man. You know who I am talking about ” You mentally rolled your own eyes, showing him the gesture while also mentally flipping him off.

“ Okay, okay, I do play games. I rather enjoy them. However your ‘old man’ of a mate is taking care of business for me.”

“ Feyre was right”

“ About what?”

“ Your all Busy bodies”

“ Hey, you looked like you needed some reassurance. It would be wrong of me to not help a fellow friend”

“ Uh-huh so when will he be back?”

“ He should be back in an hour.”

“ I am so telling Feyre you’re a busy body” By this point you and Rhys locked eyes, both of you continued communicating mentally. Any other person who looked from the outside would have guessed that maybe the two of you were staring each other down to see who would break first.

“ Y/N, that is far from the truth.” Rhys looked away briefly to roll his own eyes at you.

“ It is the truth! You swear you don’t ‘meddle in other people's business’ here you are telling me what I wanna know” You mentally pointed a finger at him as you laughed softly.

“ You looked sad! This is the last time I help you ease your mind” Rhys attempted to defend himself but it was no use, he in fact was a busy body whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Guilty busy body old man”

“ Don’t you have food to make, Little Chef”

“Thanks,”Your eyes lit with humor as you smiled before heading off to the kitchen to prepare dinner and Azriel’s lunch.

“Of course” Dipped his head at you returning that same humorous expression.

………………..

The hour had passed and you had finished making Azriel’s plate and some of the dinner spread. You could feel the buzz of energy that belonged to him. Your bond had begun sharpening itself lately between you two. It hadn’t completely fortified itself just yet and you couldn’t figure out why. This would be the first meal you’d bring just to Azriel, your mind unbeknownst to you had not caught on to what was happening. You weren’t exactly lucky in the learning of mating. Your parents were different. You knew that, and everyone else knew that, so this concept to you was entirely new.

“ Miss?” Nuala called out to you.

“ Yes?” You replied as you fixed a missing piece to his plate before grabbing a glass of water along with it.

“ You’re running behind Miss” Nuala gives you a small smile as she shifts her gaze to the clock. You follow it cursing at yourself grabbing the plate before making your way hastily out the kitchen. Cerridwen had smiled at herself knowing what was about to transpire.

Nuala called out to you again “ Uh Miss he’s in the High lords study”.

“ Oh right, yes Okay, thank you! I will be back to help with the rest of the dinner!” You called out as you left the kitchen.

“ Should we warn her?” Cerridwen giggled. Cerridwen couldn’t help but be happy for the pair. Azriel deserved to be loved just as the rest of the group is.

“ No, let the happy couple be,” Nuala replied, continuing her work as well. Azriel deserved to be loved just as the rest of the group is. Nuala looked to her sister as they both shared a giddy giggle of happiness.

You had followed Nuala’s advice practically running down the halls to get to Azriel. You knew he had to be starving; there was no way he would not be hungry. You hadn’t realized what was happening when you entered the room. All three bat boys had been in a meeting which was abruptly stopped by you. You didn’t seem to notice as your feet carried you to Azriel. Azriel noticed the plate in your hands. His face is tinting a shade of pink. Now was definitely not the time to be giving him food. Cassian and Rhys both coughed, finding everything else in the room rather interesting.

“ Y/N now isn’t the best time for-“ Azriel started, though you cut him off quickly.

“ You didn’t eat breakfast or lunch so I made you some food.” You hand him the plate expecting him to eat it. Azriel cleared his throat nervously, he didn’t even attempt to eat it. Though his stomach growled and he so badly wanted to eat it. He also so badly wanted to have you to himself and his way with you but he couldn’t not even during an important meeting with his high lord and his general. Fuuuuccckk. He mentally groaned. This could not have happened at a far worse time than right now. He loved your innocence in all this but it was his fault he should’ve warned you.

“I understand but-“ He started again as he tried to find the words to tell you that this was extremely bad timing. You were not taking a no for an answer, the other two males had not moved fast enough to stop you either. You had shoved a piece of food in Azriel’s mouth. His eyes widened, he was shocked that you forced him to eat. Azriel made no more to chew, or swallow or make any sudden movements. Once he inhales the food it was game over for everyone including you.

“ You better chew it Az, and swallow it. You haven’t eaten a damn thing all day long and it’s the last time I tell you” You warned him. Cassian and Rhys looked at each other before lunging for you both.

Rhys was the first to grab you and pull you away. Cassain quickly grabbed the plate from Azriel’s hands carrying it like bomb “ I GOT IT!” Cassian rushed over to the window chucking it out of the study. Rhys grabbed a napkin as he marched over to Azriel “ Spit it out!” to which Azriel obliged.

Rhys handed Azriel a cup of water to which Cassian yelled “ NO NOT THE WATER” Rhys immediately switched hands and conjured up a second water.

“ You gave him water too!” Rhys groaned as he looked at Azriel who was in fact looking at you.

“ For fuck sake it’s literally water! He hasn’t eaten and I highly doubt he had water! You guys, I worked hard on that food. Cass that was also my favorite dish!” You whined as you twirled around and faced a wall that was decorated with one of Feyre’s paintings.

“ Sorry but I had to do it. I’ll buy you a new one” Cassian shrugged, though he’d have to admit it was a bit of an overreaction.

Rhys sighed “ Y/N has anyone ever spoken to you about the mating ritual?”

You froze in place, there was no way your high lord was about to teach you a lesson on mating bonds, especially the ritual, “Ooooo no, oh by the cauldron this is embarrassing” You could feel your blood heat under you skin, and creep along your chest and neck. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up realizing that maybe his brother shouldn’t express that knowledge to her. Cassian seemed to have noticed the sudden change.

“ Rhys, I think we should let Az explain to her..” Cassian suggested as he walked toward a chair and sat down.

Rhys sighed again he looked between you and Azriel, “ We aren’t leaving this room, you can explain it to her in the corner but I want you both where I can see you” Rhys walked over to his desk pulling out papers to work on while Cassian played with one of Rhys’s trinkets. Rhys reached over and took it out of his hand. “ That’s not a toy”

“ Then why is it on your desk?”

“ Because that is where I decided to place it”

“ Why would you do that”

“ Cass” Rhys had pinched the bridge of his nose as the two began a bickering of their own.

You shook your head as you walked over to Azriel shyly. Azriel reached for your wrist grabbing it as he pulled you closer to him. You were experiencing many mixed emotions and you were rather embarrassed. You wanted nothing more than to dive into your work to distract yourself. You also wanted to severely scrub this memory out of your brain. Your head hung low, Azriel let go of your wrist tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His finger grazed along the side of your jaw before dipping under your chin to tilt your head up so that your eyes could meet. Rhys had put a shield around you so that your conversation would stay between you with no prying ears. So to speak.

“ It’s okay” His usual sharp stoic demeanor softened, his eyes gently as they searched yours. Boy did you melt into a tiny ball of goo. “ You don’t have to be embarrassed. Shall I explain the ritual to you” He offered though he was going to tell you anyway. You groaned again moving your crown against his chest as you looked at the floor and at his feet. He only chuckled at your actions.

“ I’ll take that as a yes. Well what I can tell you is that when you give a mate food it signifies the bond. It makes it, as you would put it ‘official’. It means acceptance. After the acceptance, after the male eats all of the food given to him by his mate…they- uh do- a bit of mating of their own” Azriel was not sure how to phrase that last sentence. On any other given day with his job and with his life he would have used better terms. This was new; he had never done this before.

“ Oh-ooh- Oooooh I see” You felt even worse about your decision now. Azriel again lifted your head so that your eyes could lock again.

You huffed moving away from Azriel slightly as you spoke “ So from what I gathered is that I waltzed into this meeting almost force feed you-“

“ You didn’t waltz, you ran and barged in. You absolutely force fed me” Azriel teased you which only made you glare at him.

“ That’s not funny Az, I was about to put you into a sexual frenzy. “

“ Is that such a bad thing?” He reached for your hips but you smacked his hands away, not to say he couldn’t touch you but that this really wasn’t funny. Azriel ignored the fact that you did that, completely touch starved and craving you he pulled you back to him.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “No but- you were busy, I knew that, I just wanted to make sure you ate.” Azriel smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.

“ Tell you what, when I am done with this meeting. I will personally come find you myself. You can warm me up some food and a glass of water-” you both chuckled at that , as he leaned closer to your ear this time “ -and when I finish, for dessert,-“ he pressed your body even harder into him, closer to him impossibly close”- I want you spread out for me, so that I can devour you, leaving you wanting and needing more.”

Your eyes widened, Azriel moved away before capturing your lips in a kiss, but before it could go no further Rhys snapped the shield back, Cassian already near Azriel pulling him off and away from you. You in that moment cursed Rhys and Cass in your mind but in reality you flipped both of them off. Rhys had called for Nuala to take you back to the Kitchen. Azriel who no longer remained broody held a smirk filled with mischief and desire. His eyes twinkled with excitement, he was happy to have you as his mate. You could definitely say the same about him.

Before you completely exited the study room Azriel winked at you. You smiled at him as you shut the door heading to the kitchen with Nuala who bombarded you with questions about what happened. Cerridwen finished decorating a dish as she grabbed another, you also spilled the beans to her as she wanted every juicy detail. The three of you had grabbed dish after dish placing it on the table. You were giddy, excited, but mostly nervous about the acceptance of the bond. You knew Azriel would take care of you but you couldn’t help but worry if you’d be interrupted. Though you knew no one would bother you. Time could not have gone by any slower if it weren’t for the twins who kept you company and busy.

Once the food was ready and everyone piled in. Again you found yourself searching for Azriel. Nowhere to be found you sighed. Feyre walked over towards you and pushed you in the direction of the kitchen.

“ There’s something in the kitchen I think you should look at” She tells you and you knew what or rather who she was referring too. You giggled nodding, you head into the kitchen, when a little shadow flew towards you, wrapping around your wrist, your hair and caressing the sides of your cheeks. You grinned knowing that the man of your dreams was sitting at the island you were working on. He had a plate, a fork and nice ready to eat. A glass of water sat next to his plate. He offered you a sweet smile. He beckoned you closer and you couldn’t resist. You grabbed a chair and sat next to him. He waited for you to sit down. “ Have you eaten today?” He asked you before digging in. You grabbed a fork of your own getting ready to eat with him.

“ I’ll pick off your plate” You replied as you held the fork in hand getting ready to grab a potato.

Azriel watched you for a moment taking it in that you were his. “ I don’t know if I can last”

“ What come on listen I’ll eat one half of the plate you eat the other side. It’ll be fine-”

“ No-I meant I doubt that I’m going to be able to eat this without wanting you right now” He whispered.

You felt your blood heat up again. “ Az, eat first and then we’ll see if there’s room for…me…” Azriel’s skin tinted pink when you whispered those words. He hadn’t expected you to flirt back like that. That made him want you even more.

“ There’s always room for you” He whispers.

“ I guess we’ll have to find out. '' You teased as you began eating a few tiny pieces so that Azriel could eat the entire plate.

Azriel only shook his head as he quietly dug into his food with you by his side.

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 7

An unexpected detour brings new people into your life, along with a different side to Silco that you've never seen before...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || TW: Alcohol | SFW | WC: 3.6

beta reader: @silcoitus <3

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

 “This is The Last Drop?” you ask, surprised. You wonder if that’s why the pub is so cozy; if the Children are always on the lookout for new members, then it’s in their own self-interest to make their home turf an attractive place to visit.

“Sure is,” the bartender says with a proud grin. “All proceeds go towards helping the good Children of the Lanes.”

You raise your eyebrows, impressed by the mercenaries’ ingenuity. Good alcohol is always in demand in the Undercity, so the Children are sure to never run out of money. “That’s pretty smart.”

“You should buy a drink if you’re on our side,” he says cheerfully. His unserious manner tells you that he won’t mind if you don’t, though. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

“I would if I could,” you say regretfully. “Do you have a tip jar?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he says warmly. He grabs a beer mug, thumping it down enthusiastically on the counter in front of you. 

You finally locate your money bag and pull out a handful of golden coins, dropping them into the mug. The man’s eyes widen in delight as the money clinks and rattles against the glass.

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he says gratefully.

After stashing the mug away under the counter, he puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles sharply. The sudden and loud noise makes you jump. He waves at someone behind you, gesturing for them to come over.

“I’ll drink next time,” you promise the barman. “This place is really nice… my friend made it sound like a war room.”

“Oh? Who’s this friend of yours?” he asks. He glances away from you, waving more insistently.

“Silco.”

The bartender’s cheer turns to curiosity as he leans on the bar, squinting at you. Self-conscious, you stand a little straighter under his scrutiny, scooting over to make room for the tall woman who takes a seat next to you.

“You got my drink?” she asks you, bored.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, here—” you move one of the glasses closer to her. 

She takes it with a nod of thanks.

“What do you want, Vander? I still have the meet today,” she says, annoyed.

“Think he’ll still want to do business with you after you smashed his friend’s face in?” Vander laughs.

Sevika rolls her eyes. “He deserved it.”

“Just as well. This lady here is going to be much better company,” the barman nods at you. “I’m Vander, and this lovely lady is Sevika.” He jerks a thumb at the woman. She ignores you, sipping from her drink.

You introduce yourself. Vander nudges Sevika with his elbow, which earns him a steely glare from the woman.

“Don’t be like that, Sev; she’s a friend of Silco’s. Any friend of his, is a friend of ours,” he says sincerely.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.” Silco had described his brother-in-arms as a big man with a big heart. As first impressions go, he certainly fits that description. As for Sevika, Silco praised her toughness and loyalty, a woman with a surprisingly kind heart hidden underneath a thorny exterior.

She seems more interested in nursing her drink than making small talk, so you hold your hand out to Vander. But his attention is caught by someone walking behind him; he turns over his shoulder to wink at them. 

When he looks back at your extended hand, he takes it and turns it gently, lowering his head to kiss your knuckles. His calloused fingertips slide against your palm. 

“Oh—” you stammer, startled. 

Just as Vander’s lips are about to make contact with your skin, Silco appears behind him.

“Vander, we’re out of—” Silco says, annoyed. 

He does a double-take at the sight of his friend kissing your hand. His mouth drops open, the pub lights reflecting off his chipped teeth.

“Silco! Hi!!” you squeak out, embarrassed. When you yank your hand back, your heart rockets into your throat, a full heated flush steaming your face hot enough to make you want to take off your jacket. The drink in front of you looks tempting for your suddenly parched mouth.

He says your name, incredulous. “What brings you here?”

“I—I was just in the neighborhood,” you lie. The excitement of meeting Silco’s friends almost made you forget about your stalker. Remembering them drives a spike of anxiety through your heart, and you fidget with your sleeves. But you’re not about to tell Silco about that, especially in front of his friends. 

And it wasn’t a complete lie, either—you’re just taking a detour before you head home.

Silco narrows his eyes at you. You smile innocently at him, the very picture of honesty. 

Vander grabs two more glasses and tops them up, shoving one into his friend’s hands.

“Here’s to our comrades, new and old,” the bartender toasts. He downs his drink in one gulp while Sevika takes another slow, appreciative sip. 

Silco doesn’t drink, still staring at you with suspicion.

Flustered, you reflexively drink from your own glass, accidentally taking an extra-large mouthful. The spicy and earthy drink hits you hard, a punch to the face with a fiery, honey-sweet aftertaste. You cough so violently you fumble for a stool, taking a seat next to Sevika.

Silco rushes around the counter. He stands on your other side, rubbing your back in concern. Worried, he asks, “Are you alright?”

The alcohol burns in your mouth, an uncomfortable tingling tracking from the roof of your mouth down your throat. But you try to smile at Silco, coughing out, “It’s good to see you.”

Because it really is. His smile soothes you better than any glass of water could. He takes a seat next to you, his hand lingering on your back. You bump his shoulder playfully with your own.

“So how’d you meet our man here?” Vander asks, grinning as he refills your glass.

“Oh, um…” you glance at Silco. “Saved him from Enforcers.”

Sevika glances at you from the corner of her eye, curious. Vander lets out a bark of a laugh before he asks, “Pretty little thing like you? What’d you do, blow a kiss at them?”

Silco tenses at the compliment. His hand on your back moves up to your shoulder, squeezing you protectively. “Please don’t judge my companions too harshly. I assure you, under most circumstances, they are perfectly capable of behaving themselves.”

“I just dropped paint on them,” you answer with a shrug, ignoring Vander’s remark. This time, you take a little sip of the drink. In smaller quantities, it’s quite tasty. You let it linger on your tongue to better enjoy the fruity notes.

The larger man leans forward, brows furrowed. If you thought he was watching you too closely before, he stares openly at you now. You stare at the liquid in your glass, swirling it to avoid the bartender’s eyes. “You’re the muralist?”

“Uh…” You look at Silco questioningly. “I’m working on a mural right now, yeah.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you if Silco hasn’t already. He forgets his manners sometimes,” Vander says, giving his friend a playful punch in the shoulder. “Couldn’t have gotten our most recent score without your help.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve thanked her plenty already,” Silco says impatiently, rolling his eyes.

“You might as well be one of us now,” Sevika says to you. For the first time that night, she smiles, a sharp smirk that transforms her face into something gleeful and young. She shares a knowing look with Vander before finally turning to look at you head-on, assessing you properly now. “Saving Silco’s ass is pretty much a rite of passage for the Children.”

“I believe our ledgers are equally balanced in that regard,” Silco scowls. His hand leaves your shoulder to pick up his drink.

Sevika snorts. “Sure you don’t want me taking over the accounting? ‘Cause I keep better track of our numbers than you do.”

“Now, now, kids,” Vander snickers. “No fighting in front of the new recruit.”

“…Wait, what?” you ask, confused. When you turn to look at Silco, he’s frowning but flushed red from embarrassment. He sighs and pinches between his eyebrows, looking down at the counter.

“I had hoped that my friends would know better than to surprise you,” Silco says in an annoyed tone. He looks up, still avoiding your gaze to glare daggers at Vander. “I merely asked them to consider extending a formal invitation to you. I hadn’t realized that the final decision had already been made without my input.”

The bartender pouts in apology, his watery eyes widening in an impression of a Poro. “And here I thought you asked her already.” 

“If you got your eye on her, she must be good people,” Sevika pipes up. She raises her drink at you before finishing it off. 

“Exactly,” Vander says to you. “Silco likes to leave most of the recruiting to me. You must be something special if you caught his eye.”

You clutch your glass tight. A confusing cocktail of emotions swirl in your chest, not helped by the alcohol: triumph at earning the approval of Silco’s friends, clashing with self-consciousness at being the center of attention. 

“I was just in the right place at the right time, that’s all,” you hunch over the counter and mumble. 

“I’m so sorry,” Silco says earnestly. He looks at you directly now, eyes wide with distress. “I should have discussed it with you first, I only meant—”

“Silco, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nods, his knee bouncing rapidly, restless and nervous.

“It was nice meeting you all,” you say, giving Silco an affectionate pat on the arm as you step off the stool. “Have a good night—”

Silco looks crestfallen as his friends break out into a chorus of protests.

“Are you really going home after just one drink?” Vander asks, turning his sickeningly sweet puppy eyes at you.

“Let’s play for it,” Sevika says, whipping a pack of cards out with a flick of her wrist. She shuffles them expertly, dealing the cards swiftly on the counter. “If you win, you get to go home. If I win, you stay and I’ll tell you how Silco fucked up his teeth.”

“That’s—that’s not necessary,” Silco sputters. “Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“He’ll come back if he knows what’s good for him,” Sevika says dismissively. She looks at you expectantly.

You drink again to buy yourself time to think. You have fun hanging out with Silco, his friends seem welcoming enough, the alcohol is tasty… all very persuasive reasons for you to stay. 

“Sure,” you tell Sevika cheerfully. “What are we playing?”

Her explanation of the rules is short and straightforward, but you find yourself distracted when Silco scoots his chair closer to yours. When you ask Sevika to please repeat herself, your friend says he’ll help you. 

He hooks his chin over your shoulder when you pick up your hand of cards. He’s warm and solid next to you, his breath grazing your cheek. The contact has your heart racing, your heartbeat so loud it almost drowns out his whispered instructions in your ear. 

Maybe it’s because of the alcohol, but you find yourself leaning into his constant touches instead of away from them. Indulging in the fantasy that he’s not just being chummy, but that he wants to escalate your friendship into something… more.

You quickly down your drink in one gulp, slamming the glass down too hard on the counter. When Vander asks if you want another, you shake your head vigorously, making yourself dizzy. You tell the bartender that you just need some water. Silco tells you to slow down when you chug the whole thing as fast as you can without choking.

But you want to drown that thought before you can pursue it. Wishing only leads to disappointment, after all. Building an icon for a small faith only for it to be struck by lightning. Leaving behind nothing but ashes in its wake, all your hopes going up in flames and trailing away with the smoke.

Besides, you’re trying to make a good impression on Vander and Sevika. Trying to laugh at their jokes and answer their questions. 

Trying to ignore Silco’s long and handsome fingers as he touches your cards. 

Trying to focus on the game instead of the tapestry of lines and scars on his skin.

You ask Vander what his favorite drink is, and he points out different bottles on his shelf. 

But your eyes are instead drawn to the column of Silco’s throat as he swallows. His tongue tracing the outline of his thin lips after downing shot after shot of vodka. 

How he always smirks first before teasing his friends, mischievous and playful. Then he’ll smile bright and joyfully as he chuckles, a low and soft sound compared to Vander’s booming laughter. The trio use pointed words with each other, but they never cut deep enough to hurt.

You’ve stopped drinking for the night since you have to wake up early tomorrow. But you’re still enjoying yourself, bonding with Sevika and Vander over stories of Silco’s youthful antics. Already flushed from drinking so much, Silco turns even redder when Sevika tells you of the misadventure of his broken teeth. 

From any other storyteller, it would have been a heroic retelling of his courage and defiance in the face of an indomitable goliath. And yes, teenage Silco was very brave in an encounter with multiple Enforcers. But Vander breaks into uproarious laughter when he talks about his friend dodging their punches expertly only to trip and fall open-mouthed on an Enforcer’s boot.

“I can’t believe you still managed to fight them off,” you tell Silco in awe. “I’m glad you’re still here.”  

“Did y’know… I have the fewest arrests compared to these two,” Silco slurs drunkenly. He swings his glass at them in a wild, unsteady arc, his drink spilling out of his cup. Sevika scowls when the alcohol splashes onto her poncho.

“Still the worst of us at holding his liquor, though,” Vander says, chuckling. He throws a towel at his friend’s face. Silco’s head thumps onto the counter as the towel falls into his lap. “Take care of that spill, will you?”

The bartender walks away to help another customer. Sevika shoves herself out of her seat, shoulder-checking Silco as she stalks off to the restroom. 

You reach out for the towel, gingerly picking it up before you wipe the counter dry. Silco watches with sleepy, half-lidded eyes as you fold the towel neatly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, amused. It’s almost fascinating to observe Silco’s total loss of composure; for someone who lives in a bar, his tolerance for alcohol is lower than you expected. Maybe it’s because he’s skinnier than his friends.

“M’good,” he mumbles into the counter.

“Here.” You slide your glass of water closer to him. 

You pat his back, encouraging him to sit up so he can drink. He raises his head slowly, swaying dangerously as he sits up again. When he makes a grab for the glass, he almost knocks it over. You catch it just in time. Some of the water spills out onto your hand.

You take it upon yourself to hold the glass up to Silco’s lips. When he opens his mouth, you tilt the cup carefully, careful not to pour too much too fast. He drinks with small gulps, little by little until your glass is emptied. You can’t help but imagine him as a houseplant, and the image makes you giggle.

“What’sss’funny?” Silco asks as he lowers his head onto the counter again.

“Nothing,” you say quickly. You lay your head down on the bar, folding your arms to use as a cushion. Even when looking at him sideways, his handsomeness is undeniable, his long nose pressed into the counter and his dark hair draped over his sharp cheekbones. 

You wonder if he’d let you push his hair out of his eyes.

Silco mumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch. Just as you scooch closer to listen, his eyes droop shut. He slumps completely limp, mouth falling slack.

You poke him in the face to wake him up. When he doesn’t respond, you stroke his cheek with the back of your hand, knuckles gently grazing his skin. He’s soft and warm to the touch as you trace the contour of his cheekbone. He babbles something incoherent, his lip twitching upward in the ghost of a smile.

You jerk upright in your seat, glancing around frantically. Sevika hasn’t come back and Vander is still busy with other customers. You’re glad that neither of them were around to see your moment of weakness, but that means they can’t help you with Silco either.

“Silco…” you lean in to murmur into his ear. He responds with a questioning hum. “You live here, right? Where’s your bedroom?”

Something about asking that question makes you blush, and you’re glad his eyes are still closed as he waves towards the far side of the pub, his fingers hanging limp. 

You squint past customers and furniture to see a doorway encircled by a curved steel beam. It’s not very far away, but the real challenge is getting Silco to his feet.

“Silco…” you say again patiently. “Please get up.”

“Mmm… why…” he mutters.

“You need sleep, Silco,” you say gently.

“Mm’sleeping righ-now…”

“You can’t sleep here, dummy,” you chuckle.

“Why not…?”

“It’s bad for your neck and back.” You also can’t deny that you’re curious about Silco’s sleeping quarters, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“I’ll go if y’come wi me…” Silco cracks his eye open, a drop of turquoise peeking out at you from under his dark eyelashes.

“Sure,” you say, amused.

Your friend grins. He sways upwards with a wobble and pushes the stool away from the bar. You catch him under his armpit just as he slips off the stool, his weight forcing your knees to bend. He’s heavy like a waterlogged backpack, the strain on your back only slightly lessened when you throw one of his arms around your shoulders. The pair of you almost careen into another bargoer, and you apologize to them through gritted teeth as you steer Silco towards the doorway.

The light from the pub leaks through just enough to illuminate a short flight of wooden steps that lead into a hallway. With some prodding, Silco perks up just enough to slide off your shoulders and onto the wall. He oozes down the stairs one at a time before catching himself on a doorknob on the left. When he pulls the door open and stumbles into a room, you follow him.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and in the dark you almost miss another flight of stairs. Startled, you yelp as your foot falls through the air and you catch yourself on a handrail.

“Sorry,” Silco’s voice floats to you. You hear a switch clicking, then a muffled flop of him landing on something soft. A lamp turns on, weakly illuminating the room with a warm yellow glow.

It’s a small, cozy kitchen with a long couch and a small armchair, both orange with squishy cushions and colorful square patches of blue, purple, and red. An old wooden door repurposed into a coffee table sits between the couch and armchair. The lamp on the table is small and electric, illuminating Silco’s face as he lays on the couch. A large and brightly polished gramophone sits on top of a red barrel in the far corner. Framed and unframed photos on the walls give the place a homey feel. The shelves above the stove are stocked with clean glass jars, cutlery, and mismatched plateware.

Silco lies on the couch, sleepy eyes blinking at you as he smacks his lips. He turns on his side as he watches you walk over to the sink.

“You good here?” you ask. You grab a jar and fill it with water.

He hums in the affirmative, smiling at you appreciatively when you place the jar on the table close to him. 

“You should stay,” he says through a yawn. “’S too late f’you to walk home.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. Normally, you would decline and insist on walking home if it weren’t for your stalker. A shiver crawls up your spine at the prospect of leaving the safe haven of The Last Drop. You imagine them descending on you as you try to dodge them in the Lanes. The cold fear kept at bay by your friends and the alcohol creeps into your veins again, rooting you to the ground. 

“Yeah… I’ll take care of you…” he trails off, his eyes falling shut.

You yawn quietly, conscientious of Silco falling asleep again. His hand uncurls next to his face, his body fully relaxing like an unknotted rope. The sound of his deep breathing fills the room, low and peaceful. 

Slowly, slowly, you tiptoe over to his feet and unlace his boots. It takes some awkward maneuvering of his legs to finally get them off; you hope he won’t remember you manhandling him in the morning. You place them gently next to the foot of the couch before unlacing your own. Your own boots look so much smaller when you place them right next to his. Then you take off your jacket and drape it over Silco, pulling the collar over his shoulder. Only then do you finally take a seat in the armchair.

“Goodnight, Silco,” you whisper softly, your own eyes drooping shut as you switch off the lamp.

He doesn’t respond. You pull your knees up to your chest and rub your arms for warmth as you drift off, joining him in slumber.

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! <3

Chapter 8

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 4

When Idol Factory first announced this series would be sixteen hour-long episodes, I thought that might be too much, but only four episodes in, and I NEED MULTIPLE SEASONS because I'm surprisingly loving each episode much like Pink Person Pin surprisingly loved that little cheek kiss from her Blue Beauty, so much that the blue door had to support her as she secretly blushed over it.

The major reason I love this show so much is Blue Beauty Anin is the perfect historical protagonist. She is rich. She has a trusty sidekick. She is intelligent. She has moxie! If she were a man, I'd be rooting for her to get the girl, but because she is a woman, I'm rooting even harder!

So it doesn't surprise me that her cousin also has a crush on her. She is wearing her blue after all.

Which just so happens to be when more purple starts to appear on Pin's clothing since blue + pink = purple.

But here's the thing - Just like a historical rich male protagonist, Anin's flaws are starting to show, like the fact that she made my girl Prik sad because she treated Prik like the servant Prik is by making her collect the balls rather than play with the royals.

And it could just be my bias showing since I love the actress, Looknam, but Anin is a princess. She has privilege. She has power. She has plans. And she has the means to make those plans happen because when she says she wants something, she gets it. When she says she is unhappy, people work to make her happier. And when she says move, people move.

Which is great. I support queer rights and wrongs! But what happens when Blue Beauty Anin hears "no"?

Can someone even say no? Can Pirk? Can Pink Person Pin?

Anin is using her cousin to make Pin jealous, but Ueangfah seems to actually like Anin, so in Anin's pursuit of what she wants, she is already hurting someone else beneath her because Princess Anin doesn't have to think of others.

Which I fully support.

Much like Anin letting Pin rest under a blue blanket, I think the story wants us to notice these moments so we can see Anin influence on others.

Anin is used to getting what she wants, but times are changing, and strangely enough, so are colors. Her brothers swapped colors this week.

And so did her aunt who wore a color only seen on Anin's mother up until now.

But, thankfully(?), her aunt was right back to her usual self when she left to attend to her duties outside of their beautifully large home(s).

Each character has been a consistent color, so to see everyone else change colors this episode EXCEPT Anin is interesting because, once again, I think the story wants us to see how stuck in her ways Anin is, so we can notice when her power starts to hurt her and she is forced to evolve.

Even Pin changed to purple as her feelings for Anin morphed, but Anin remained blue with a hint of how she can evolve by taking care of someone else instead of being cared for and with the color orange, which has been included in her dresses three times now.

I also found it interesting that Pin's pink was more vibrant once instead of the soft one she wears now.

And that her parents were blue and red. RIP parents who I never got to really know.

But back to Anin! She gets what she wants because she has power, but that power comes with a price. No matter how close Anin is with loyal sidekick, Prik is her servant, not her friend, and we keep getting little reminders of how little say Prik actually has over her life. Regardless of how Anin feels for her best friend, Pin is not a blood-related member of this family and (if I remember correctly) her adopted mother isn't either. Pin is beneath Anin, and doesn't have the freedom over her own life like Anin does. This isn't about being queer. This is about class.

So even though I should be delighted that the heavens approved of this relationship,

And that Pin was in Anin's blue (and her clothes) by the end of the episode,

I believe the series is already telling us that Anin doesn't have to change (her color), but that means everyone else will be forced to follow and do as they are told.

Even if they want to follow her until the very end.

[cassatelle]

Day 5 of @bucktommypositivityweek: outsider perspective 1128 words Rating: General Audience Tags: Fluff, Soft, Coming Out, Referenced/Implied Homophobia

The sound of the doorbell jingling broke the quiet of the nearly empty restaurant. Debbie glanced up from her spot behind the counter; it was him again.

It was hard to believe it had been two years since he first stumbled in, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She remembered that night clearly. The clock was nearing closing time, and Debbie had been lingering by the counter, dreading the inevitable task of throwing away the uneaten food she’d so carefully prepared. The place had been too quiet, too empty, and her heart had been just as hollow. He really missed his husband on the days like this.

Then, he’d walked in, all exhausted, asking if it was too late to order, mumbling about not having the energy to cook. His words had been tentative, almost apologetic, as if he was expecting to be turned away. Debbie had told him it was no problem at all. Though the truth was, she hadn’t even closed yet because there hadn’t been enough customers to justify it. She’d packed his order with trembling hands, filling the container with a far larger portion than he’d asked for. 

Since then, he’d become a regular, showing up almost everyday—some days at the weirdest time, late in the evening or early in the morning— with occasional absences for a few days of the week. He’d always arrived with a smile, though the tiredness still clung to him like a shadow. He’d ask her how she was, how business was going. One evening, she unconsciously referred herself as Tía. Then, on a whim, she started to call him Sobrino. To her delight, he kept coming, as if he didn’t mind the name she threw. She took it as a consent.

It wasn’t until he showed up in his firefighter uniform, soot-streaked and weary, that she finally understood why he skipped those few days. He’d explained it with a tired smile, mentioning his overnight shifts. And from then on, she’d made a habit of giving him even bigger portions, claiming it was her way of thanking him for his service. In truth, she simply liked him—liked the way he brought a bit of life into her otherwise boring routine. Sometimes, she’d keep the shop open until midnight or flip the close/open sign a few hours before she was supposed to, just in case he had another late or early finish and needed a warm meal to end his day.

He always came alone, ordering one portion with the same polite smile. She’d tease him sometimes, asking him to bring his girlfriend, promising to throw in an extra shrimp. He’d only smiled in response, never giving much away.

But lately, there has been a change. His tired face had started to light up more, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them, his steps lighter. She’d caught him laughing at his phone once, and another time, he walked in wearing a new scent. Then, one evening, he started ordering two portions, or began asking her to add or exclude certain ingredients. And that's how she knew he had a girlfriend.

Tonight, as she prepared his order, she couldn’t help but mention it. “You seem really happy these days, pequeño,” she said, her hands moving with practiced ease as she assembled his meal.

He chuckled. “Yeah, things have been good, Tía. How’s the restaurant today?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Eh, my story can wait. So, who’s this lucky woman, hm?”

His reaction was not what she expected. Instead of the shy smile or fidgeting she’d imagined, he seemed taken aback, face unreadable for a moment. Debbie almost apologized, thinking she’d overstepped, but then he smiled, a little weakly. “Uh, it’s a man, actually. I have a boyfriend. Not that he’s lucky to be dating me or anything, but yeah… a boyfriend.” He looked at her cautiously, guiltily. “Is that… okay… Tía?” he added, it took her a moment to realize why.

For a brief second Debbie could see the hurt on his eyes. She wondered what could have happened to turn the brave, cheerful boy she knew into a frightened, cornered mouse. Whatever it was, she felt bad for bringing that memory back.

She blinked, collecting herself quickly. “Ay, of course! Men, women, no different. Love is love, no?”

His usual big, crinkly-eyed smile returned, and with it, the warmth she’d come to expect.

“So that’s why you so happy? Must be nice having a boyfriend, eh?” she teased lightly.

He let out a laugh, a genuine sound that made her smile in return. “Yeah, it is, honestly. I haven’t been dating for so long and it’s... it’s really great. He's really great.”

Debbie gave him a big smile. “You should keep him, then.”

“I’m planning to,” his whole face softened, glowed.

Debbie handed him the food and gently patted the back of his hand. “Tonight’s on me, as a celebration. And I’m serious—it’s fine, I’ve had enough customers today,” she quickly added, seeing the protest forming on his lips. “I’m happy for you, mijo.”

“Thank you, Tía.” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You should get a boyfriend too.”

She clicked her tongue, playful. “My husband’s ghost will come to me if I dare to find another man.”

The day finally came. He walked in as usual, but this time hand-in-hand with a tall, handsome blonde man.

Before she could greet them, the blonde man flashed a grin and spoke up, “Hola, Tía, me llamo Buck. Uh... or, Evan. Well, Tommy calls me Evan, you can call me whatever you like.” but before Debbie could respond, he continued, “Did I say it wrong, Tía? My friend told me that. Please, tell me if that’s wrong and I will kick his ass.”

Debbie burst into laughter. “That’s really good. And mo kicking ass, please.” She then turned her gaze to him—the regular, Tommy, apparently. Funny how she learned his name from his boyfriend instead, after two years exchanging conversation. “So this is the one making you so smiley, eh?” She gave him a teasing look.

Tommy simply smiled, cheeks a little pink. 

But Buck, clearly enjoying the moment, wasn’t going to let it slide. “Aww, do I? Do I make you so smiley, Tommy?”

Tommy grinned, titling his head slightly before admitting, “You do.”

Debbie, not wanting to interrupt but knowing they came for the food, clapped her hands together. “Bueno, can I take your order now? You two can continue your lovey-dovey over the seat there.”

They both chuckled. “Sorry, Tía. And yes, the usual please.”

“One spicy, one not spicy?”

“Perfect,” Tommy confirmed with a nod. Then, he raised an eyebrow playfully, “And please don’t forget our extra shrimp.”

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Twelve - Midnight piano

Smutty Start

Your lips parted in a silent scream as he buried himself deep inside of you. Both of you were still covered in blood, and yet that wasn't even the vase of your hunger any more. Lestat licked along your jaw, clearing some of the red, but not much. He loved how it looked on you.

You gasp loudly in his ear and he grins. He has you right where he wants you. His desire is insatiable.

With every sharp thrust of his hips you feel yourself losing concentration. All you can feel is him. You want to hold him, taste him, feel him, be one with him.

Lestat licks along your neck and grunts heavily in your ear. You feel perfect against his body. Everything was perfect. You're perfect.

It's been a long time since Lestat last felt like this.

He kisses you passionately and drapes himself over your body. You open your eyes and stare at his handsome face. His hair hangs down like a curtain around him, his lips are curled into a grin.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

You smile and pull him down into another kiss. Your hands wrap securely around his neck. Lestat gives in and accepts your embrace. He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling you. You smell like sex. It's delicious.

He rolls his hips again, slowly. He silences your moan with a kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip as he does so. He's enjoying all the sounds you're making, but he also has a desire to tease you, too.

“Lestat,” you groan his name in a low voice.

“Oui, amour?” He smirks.

You smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. He chuckles, amused by your innocent act. However, he's so distracted by your pretty face that when you get the jump on him and swap positions with him, he looks up at you surprised.

You roll your hips and leave him speechless. His long nails scratch along your skin, leaving you aching for more. You ride him with a smile upon your lips, desire running through your veins.

No one would have thought you had just killed 2 people and were having sex because of how hot it was.

Your life has turned upside down.

Lestat was twirling you around the dance floor of the club he had brought you to. The upbeat music wasn't to his tastes, but with a beautiful woman dancing in his arms, how could he resist?

His classical heart yearned to hear you play your piano for him, for it had been a while since he last got to hear your sweet music, but for now he could endure this too fast beat.

You were smiling and laughing as he pulled you in close. He loved the way your eyes lit up as you danced. The smile on your lips should forever belong there. The skirt of the dress he chose for you swishes around your legs with every spin and bounce. You were a delight.

You hoped the night would never end, but you knew the sun would have to rise.

However, there were things other than the sun that could interrupt your night. A certain someone who you had hoped to forget. The call of your name has you turning around to see who wad there.

Eleanor.

Lestat's arm instantly comes to settle around your waist. His gaze is sharp and alert. He's watching her closely.

“Oh, didn't expect to see you here,” you say, wishing to be anywhere else right now.

“Just making the most of my stay here.” 

You offer her friendly smile.

“No one's seen you for a little while,” she comments. “I was with Amelie-”

“You were with Amelie?” You ask sharply. Lestat squeezes your hip gently with his hand. Calm down.

“Yes… She mentioned she hadn't seen you in a few days.”

“I've been busy,” you replied, feeling the need to defend yourself.

“Doing what?” 

You don't like the way she asks that. The way she's looking at you sets on edge for some reason. You try and focus on her mind, needing to know what she wants.

‘She must have been drinking. She's acting strange.’

She doesn't suspect anything else, so you accept her thoughts. You straighten up and hold your head up high. “Makijg music,” you say.

“Oh? So, you're still playing at the theater?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?” You ask. Lestat gives you another warning with his hand.

“Others suspect your sponsor here is whisking you away to make you famous.” She eyes Lestat again. The vampire grins at her.

“This is my home,” you state.

“For now. You might change your mind.”

The two of you stare at each other. She's making you uncomfortable with her questions. You can't help thinking she's dogging for something, but perhaps yours the one overthinking.

“I'll be there on Friday.”

Eleanor stares at you. You can't pick up on anymore of her thoughts. Whatever she's doing, she really is keeping it to herself. Not even a whisper.

“Enjoy your night.” She walks away.

Lestat pulls you into his arms and kisses you softly. “Pay the woman no mind. She simply does not like me.”

“She's getting on my nerves. Why is she even still here? The police found nothing.” You sigh.

Lestat shrugs and brushes some hair behind your ear. “Who cares? Let us enjoy our night, amour.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and smile again. Yeah, you can forget all about her. You have everything you want and need right here.

Friday. An hour after the sun has set. You're in your dressing room with Lestat. You're sitting on your vanity table. Lestat is standing between your legs kissing you passionately against your mirror.

There's a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you sigh. Lestat doesn't pull away, he just holds you against his chest and nuzzles your temple with his nose. He inhales sharply. You're wearing the perfume he bought you on the way here. You smell divine.

Jack enters. He seems surprised to see Lestat in here too. “I've just seen you requested an extra fifteen minutes on stage.”

“Yes,” you smile at him.

“Can I ask why?”

Lestat nips your ear gently and you giggle softly. You give him an affectionate warning glare. He just grins.

“I have a special performance planned. I need the extra time.” 

Jack looks between you and the man wrapped around you. Everyone seems to be on edge with Lestat around. It's almost amusing.

“Alright… I'll see if the dancers are okay delaying their performance for you.”

“Thank you, Jack,” you smile at him.

Jack exits the room. You can sense his confusion and unease on the way out. Lestat chuckles in your ear and then goes back to kissing you.

Your lover is reluctant to leave you when the show starts, but he goes off to his box as told. You get ready for the show.

Wearing your ruby necklace and lipstick to match, you head out to the wings. Amelie is there waiting. She does a double take when you arrive. She looks you up and down.

“What?” You ask.

“You look… good.”

You smile. “I feel good.” In fact, you've never felt better.

“Jack said you asked for extra time. Asked if we could delay the dance routine. You never ask for more time.”

“Tonight's special is all.”

Amelie looks at you for a good few moments before returning her gaze to the stage. “Are you okay?” She asks out of the blue.

“Yeah, why?” You eye her.

“Something seems different about you.”

You smile. “I've found my purpose, that's all.”

Amelie doesn't question what you mean by that. She watches you walk onto the stage after your name is called. You walked with a whole.new confident aura about you.

You take a bow to your captive audience. Soft muttering can be heard in the room, but with your sharp new hearing you can hear just fine.

‘My goodness, she's beautiful.’

‘Who is that?’

‘This doesn't seem like the same pianist I saw last time.’

You smile and take your seat at the bench. The room goes quiet. They sit, watch, and wait.

You play.

Lestat leans forward in his box, completely enamored by you. He cannot tear away his eyes. You're a vision. His ears are blessed by your music. All of this is new. No one had heard any of these pieces before. You were blessing your audience with a new era of your talent.

Lestat was your sole inspiration. Every note you played, you played for him. 

Amelie watched from the wings in surprise. This music was unlike anything she had ever heard you play. She had no idea what had been going on with you. She had stopped at your apartment a couple of times, but you hadn't been there. Whatever it was you were doing, it had led to this.

Murmurs erupted quietly among the audience. They were in awe. Your music was your magic. It was casting a spell over each and every one of them.

You felt alive.

A whole 45 minutes passed with the entire room hooked onto every note you played. You were their master in command. You wanted them to listen and they did. 

Lestat smiled proudly from his box.

Once you finished your last piece, Lestat was the first to stand and applaud. Everyone else copied him within seconds. You smiled as you stood from your piano and took a bow.

You had put on the performance of a lifetime.

As soon as you were backstage once again, Amelie came up to you. She grasped your arm gently and smiled. “Goodness! Everyone was standing. That was incredible.”

You smile proudly.

“You've been busy writing music,” she points out.

“Yes, well, I've had a lot of inspiration. Music comes to me as naturally as…” You were going to say breathing. “Walking,” you correct yourself.

“You're amazing.” Amelie looks at you with so much awe in her gaze.

“Mon amour.”

Both of you turn to see Lestat walking towards you. You smile and wrap your arms around him. Lestat brings you close to his chest and nips at your ear playfully.

“What did you think?” You ask him.

“There are no words.” He grins. “You have blown them all away.”

You grin. “I felt… powerful.”

Lestat grins. “Good.”

Amelie watches you both, curious by this interaction. It is clear to her that you and Lestat have certainly become… more. She notices the way his hand trails low on your hip and the way his eyes stare into you intensely.

“So, that's where you've been?” She asks. You look at her. “With him.”

“Yes.” You turn to face her. Lestat wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. “Problem?”

“No.”

You both look at each for a moment and then she smiles. You return the smile. You want to go over and give her a hug, but a voice calls out and stops you.

“I think drinks are in order.” You all turn to see Eleanor standing there off to the side. She wears a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

“Oh yes!” Amelie cheers.

“What do you say, amour? Shall we celebrate?” Lestat grins again.

“Oui.” You smile and look at Eleanor. “A splendid idea.”

Eleanor chuckles softly and walks away. You watch her go.

She was still here. Why?

Lestat brushes some hair out of your face and kisses down your neck. He's trying to distract you. It's working.

Amelie has to break the moment. Otherwise, you'd both start getting frisky then and there. Eleanor be damned.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19 @whereismymindnow @chauchirem @angelrenee239 @ppureheroiine @heyitsaloy

[barbieaemond]

The King of Qarth (sneak peek)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Qartheen f!reader (use of she/her)

Warnings: angst, mentions of sexual abuse, child bride, smut, some bondage, knife kink, breeding kink (more to be added)

Author’s note: purely based on this vibe. To be posted next week.

Taglist: @zae5 @succnfucubus @arcielee @multyfangirl @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs

“Wife, may I introduce you to our noble guest?”

A woman comes forward to greet him when Aemond enters a lavish hall with several windows adorned with colorful drapes of silk. He is sure he has never seen so much marble in his life, feeling even more inappropriate given the state of his clothes and his whole demeanor, shamefully far from the clean, soldierly appearance that left mouth agape.

“Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, from Westeros.” The Salt King declares as the woman stops just before him. The Prince stands tall and imposing, no matter the misery of his shabby clothes, the state of his dishevelled hair falling in silver tangles down his back. He’s still a Targaryen, his chin is high and proud.

“More like from Old Valyria.” She says raising an eyebrow, and sizing him up and down. “He seems to have just emerged from the Doom, miraculously unscathed.”

The Prince does nothing but seethe his teeth behind his dry lips, a distant shame in his eye that quickly turns into a focused and unblinking rage.

“Welcome to Qarth, my Prince. I’d trust your journey was uneventful but…I can see the Red Waste takes its toll, even on Valyrian beauty.”

Aemond takes a good, long look at her, inevitably lingering on her chest, dressed as the common Qartheen fashion dictates: one breast exposed. But a lot more of her is exposed. Her shoulders, her arms and legs, a glimpse of her hips, all crossed by swirling bundles of lilac silk.

If any married woman in Westeros dressed like that in the open, he’s sure any husband would lock her up. At least he would.

“You must excuse my wife, Prince Aemond, or rather, get used to her habit of speaking her mind.”

“Come now, Xavos. Surely Westerosi women can voice their thoughts?” she moves, walking past Aemond and her husband to reach a small table inlaid with gold to pour some greenish beverage into a cup. “I had a maid once, she was from…Rich Garden?”

“High Garden.” Aemond sternly corrects her.

“Ah, yes. A delightful creature, always smelled so good.” She says distractedly “Anyway, she fled from your lands because she liked girls and not boys and she didn’t want to devote her life to being a brood mare sucking a flaccid cock until her hair had gone white.”

Her maids snicker somewhere past Aemond shoulders, stiffening his posture at the liberties those commoners are granted. “I should hope you Westerners listen to your women more than you do your horses.”

Aemond watches as she takes a sip and laces his hands behind, slightly tilting his head for a moment. “Where I come from, women do not possess such a sharp tongue. Furthermore and fortunately, most of them have manners. They know how to address a Prince of the Realm.”

She turns to leave the cup on the same table and glances at Nyla. “Oh, he bites.”

“This is not Westeros, dragon prince.” She says turning to face him with a righteous smile “I don’t need to ask for your permission to speak. The Salt King is my husband, that is why you will hear my maids and everyone else address me as Your Highness. So, you may lower that chin and stop waiting for me to bow down to you because technically my rank is higher than yours. You might say the only one meant to bow in this room were you.”

The silence that follows is so stark that the air the Prince quickly exhales through his nose sounds like thunder, alerting the Salt King. "Come now, wife. Don't wake the beast.” he says lightly, stiffening a smile “And I mean it quite literally. You should see the size of Prince Aemond’s dragon.”

“I heard.” She acknowledges “Jorio said he’s higher than the city walls.”

“She. And twice, than your city walls.” The Prince corrects her again, just as sternly. “She’s the largest dragon alive in the known world.”  

His chin remains high and haughty, simply because he can. Because she knows he could raze the entire city to the ground just by snapping his fingers.

So, she looks down and says “Since you will be our guest, it is my duty as matron of this house to make you feel welcomed. If you would be so kind to follow me, your Grace.” She forces her tone to be as courteous as possible. But then she smiles. “Is my tongue acceptably sharp to your liking now?”

PART 1

[unknowntoyou2205]

Believe me (pt 1/3)

Warnings: Kidnapping and Rape implied *no details*

Y/n Casey was raised by her aunt since she was born. Matt never knew his little sister existed till she was saved by Kelly in a house fire. Matt and his aunt had rarely seen each other, which meant that y/n had never met Casey, yet when Kelly seen the 5 year old girl, he instantly thought she looked a lot like the lieutenant. Y/n had clung to squads Captain after he had brought her to safety, and refused to leave Severide while Brett and Dawson tried to look her over. When it was time to take y/ to med for evaluation, Kelly winded up travelling with them at the back of the ambulance, with the young girl falling asleep on his chest on the way. The captain grew soft for the girl sleeping in his arms, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave this call behind. His thoughts were proven as his heart pulled at y/n’s screams as he went to leave her. She only let him leave when he gave her his beanie, with the promise of coming back after shift.

Thankfully young y/n had winded up with only small amounts of smoke inhalation, and was left in the hospital overnight before being discharged. Unfortunately, her aunt wasn’t so lucky, and she winded up dying three days later in the hospital. With no one else in the young girls life, y/n, had to be left to the system ,where she would either be adopted or fostered. Kelly had held her when he was told the news, and as he held her as she cried, something in him didn’t want her to be taken to the system, so he asked April to do some blood tests to see if there were any matches on the systems. Convincing the nurse was easy due to her having a soft place for kids, and after a quick run to the lab, they found out that the 5 year old was a match to Matt.

Matt was shocked when he was told he had a little sister, and went to confront his mother who admitted to having another baby after she murdered her husband. She had found out after being sentenced to prison and knew that prison was no place to raise a baby. Matt was hurt that his mother never told him or his sister, so decided to visit the young girl to know her. With him being a practical stranger to the young girl, he brought Kelly with him, who had been visiting the young girl on his own time.

"Kelly." The young girl shouted in delight, running over to the firefighter. "Hey, kid, how are you?" Kelly smiled, squatting down to allow y/n to run into his arms before picking her up, her legs wrapping around her waist as she perched on his front. She giggled before seeing the stranger who was standing beside him, shying into Kelly's shoulder slightly. "Y/n, this is Matt, he works with me." Kelly introduced Matt to the young girl and Matt smiled softly at the girl, "Matt, this is y/n." "Hi there." Matt smiled, waving slightly at the girl. "Y/n, Matt needs to talk to you about something important okay?" Kelly stated, looking down at the girl who kept her head on his shoulder. Y/n nodded and moved as Kelly sat down on her temporary bed before sitting on his lap, and Matt crouched in front of them. "Y/n I know you don't know me but I am your brother. My aunt, the woman who you believed is your mommy, took you in after you were born. I didn't know about you until now. And if it's okay, I would like to take you in and care for you." Matt tried to not overwhelm the 5 year old as she looked at him with confusion. "I have a brother?" Y/n asked innocently, looking at Matt before moving her head up to look at Kelly. "Yeah, and Matt wants you to go home with him. Are you okay with that?" Kelly spoke, nodding his head. "Will I see you again?" She whimpered, tears building in her eyes. "Sure will Kid. Can't get rid of me that easily." Kelly joked, poking her side so she would giggle. "You can see him whenever you like. And you can meet the rest of firehouse if you like." Matt explained, wanting the girl to be comfortable around him.

And with that, y/n moved in with her brother. It was rocky at first, with y/n being so shy around him and avoiding him whenever Kelly was around. Kelly had signed on as her second guardian, but slowly she warmed up to her brother and Casey quickly grew into the parenting roll. With the help of firehouse 51, the lieutenant managed to raise the young girl into the young woman she was today, though Casey and y/n’s relationship neve grew quite as close as Kelly and her, but Casey wasn’t okay with that as he knew Kelly would always watch out for the girl.

--

Kelly leaned against squads truck, watching for a certain 17 year old to come walking in with her brother. It was a weekend, and with Casey’s 24hr shift, the girl often came to hang out with the firehouse squad so she wasn’t alone all day. It wasn’t uncommon for y/n to wind up falling asleep in Kelly or Caseys office, but ultimately Casey allowed her the freedom to stay at their apartment on her own at night, provided she texted him when she arrived home. Generally the morning before their shift y/n would text Kelly, but having not heard from the Casey girl, Kelly was anxious to see her. Yet his attention was drawn to the truck that pulled up across from the road, only one head in view.

“Where’s y/n Casey?” Kelly called out to the Lieutenant as he walked across the road. “She’s not been home. Stayed with friends last night.” Casey stated, holding the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “You not collect her on the way? I haven’t heard from her all morning.” Kelly asked, crossing his arms over his chest as Casey stopped in front of him. “Geez Kelly, relax. She’ll be here soon. You worry too much.” Casey chuckled lightly as he hit Kelly’s shoulder in a joking way. "Well it isn’t like her to not text.” Kelly defended himself. “I appreciate your concern for her, but trust me, she’s fine. Time gets away from her when she’s with friends.” Casey smiled, placing a hand on Kelly’s shoulder before looking up as the bell went off before the two rushed off.

-----

The call had winded up with a bad outcome. An abandoned house where teens had parties had winded up catching on fire, and there had been multiple casualties, three had been found charred, with 8 winding up in hospital with serious injuries. Intelligence were treating this as a party gone wrong, with evidence of multiple flammable options being found after examining the scene. Each firefighter hung their heads as they arrived back to 51, and Boden called a meeting to check up on everyone.

Kelly and Casey opted to head outside to smoke a cigar after the case. It was midday when they were sitting on top of firehouse 51, and Kelly looked down the street to see a figure slowly walking towards them, arms folded as they hunched over themselves. Y/n was yet to turn up, so Kelly stood up, hoping to see y/n’s face. He hit Caseys chest when she recognized the girl, before moving to get down from the roof, meeting y/n halfway.

“Y/n where the hell were you?” Casey snapped before Kelly had a chance to open his mouth. “With friends.” Y/n muttered, avoiding the two men’s vision. “That was last night. You told me you’d be here by the time shift starts. Yet you rock up after lunch, what’s up with that?” Casey spoke harshly, and Kelly glared at him. Casey please.” The young girl pleaded, moving around them to head into the house. “No y/n, where were you?” Casey pushed, grabbing y/n’s arm harshly. “Hey, Casey, stop.” Kelly interfered when he seen y/n flinch away from her brother. “Get off me.” Y/n pleaded, pulling her arm away from her brother. “No, y/n, tell me where you were.” “I wasn’t at friends last night.” Y/n muttered, causing Kelly and Casey to look at her. “I’m sorry?” Casey questioned with a raised eyebrow. Y/n looked at Kelly slightly, and his eyes softened as he seen her broken sight. “Kelly, leave us be while I talk to my sister.” Casey stated to his fellow firefighter who took a glance between the siblings before leaning to Casey. “Go easy, listen to her before snapping.” Kelly warned Casey before moving to y/n, wrapping an arm over her shoulders and kissing her head before leaving the siblings be. “Kelly.” Y/n whispered. “My office y/n.” Casey spoke harshly, stepping out of the way for y/n to go first.

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

“You gonna tell me where you were?” Casey asked his sister once he closed the door. “I dunno if I can.” Y/n muttered, causing Casey to sigh and rub his forehead. “Y/n I am tired okay. We’ve had a bad case and I am not in the mood for cat and mouse. SO just tell me where you are alright. It’s that easy.” Casey stated harshly, swinging his arm out, causing y/n to flinch. “no.” Y/n whimpered, flinching back at her brothers harsh movements. “Enough of the flinching. Where were you?” Casey snapped, rolling his eyes at his sisters antics. “Stop.” Y/n begged, tears welling up in her eyes. “I was kidnapped.” Y/n muttered, yet Casey heard it. “Don’t lie to me.” Casey snapped. “I’m not.” Y/n cried. “The truth y/n.” “I was kidnapped, I was raped Why won’t you believe me?” Y/n cried out, covering her face with her hands. “Cause if you were kidnapped, you wouldn’t be here.” Casey explained, moving closer to his sister. “Matt please..” Y/n begged, crying harder. “Get out of my sight. Come back when you choose to tell the truth instead of some sick lies.” Casey spoke, opening the door to his office. “I’m telling the truth.” “Do you have any idea how many people go through what your insinuating y/n. I can’t believe you would make that up.” Casey spoke abruptly, causing y/n to look down in tears. Casey please.” Y/n begged, wanting her brother. “Now y/n.” Casey finished, pointing out the door for y/n to leave.

Y/n hung her head as she walked out of the office, ignoring the looks of Cruz and Hermann as they walked by Casey’s office.

[pankowblues]

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: rafe proposes to you in Germany

warning: nothing I think

word count: —

a/n: thanks to @rafecameroncoke for helping me choose which one to post since I wrote two versions of this also I might do this exact same thing but for my shy!introvert!reader

"Rafe, seriously, what are we doing here?" you ask, peering out of the taxi window. The cobblestone streets of Germany are lined with buildings that look like they've been plucked straight out of a storybook. You weren't complaining though you've always wanted to come here.

"It's a surprise," Rafe says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Trust me, you're going to love it."

You can't help but return his smile. Rafe has always had a knack for surprises, and after five years together, you've learned to expect the unexpected. The taxi pulls up in front of a quaint little restaurant tucked away in a picturesque alley. The warm glow of candlelight spills out onto the cobblestones, and the smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread fills the air. Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that it's been hours since you last ate.

As you step out of the taxi, a cool breeze whispers through the narrow street, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and live music. Rafe takes your hand, leading you towards the restaurant. His grip is firm, yet gentle, the same way he's held your hand through every challenge life has thrown at you both. You feel the anticipation building in your chest as you walk through the arched wooden doorway into the cozy dining room.

Inside, the walls are lined with shelves of fine wine bottles, and a small fire crackles in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the tables. The hostess, a friendly woman with a thick German accent, greets Rafe by name and shows you to a table that's been reserved just for the two of you. She leaves you with a knowing smile that makes you wonder if she's in on the surprise.

The menu is a delightful mix of traditional German dishes, and as you try to decide what to order, Rafe's gaze lingers on you, filled with a mix of love and something else. You can't quite put your finger on it, but it's definitely something special. The moment you lock eyes with him, your heart skips a beat. You've always felt safe with Rafe, but tonight there's something in the air that's both thrilling and slightly nerve-wracking.

As you both dig into your meals, the conversation flows naturally. You talk about your trip so far, the sights you've seen, and the memories you've made. Rafe tells you about the time he visited Germany as a child with his parents, and how he's always wanted to come back and share the experience with you. You laugh at his stories, the sound echoing softly in the romantic setting.

The evening wears on, and the restaurant starts to empty out. The music gets softer, the candles flicker lower, and the ambiance becomes more intimate. The waitress, who has been attentive all night, brings out a bottle of champagne with a knowing smile. Rafe's eyes never leave yours as she pops the cork and pours the bubbly liquid into your glasses.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Your heart leaps into your throat as he opens it, revealing a ring that sparkles like the stars in the clear night sky above. "I know we've talked about this before," he says, his voice steady but his hands shaking slightly, "but I wanted to ask you again, in the most beautiful place I could think of. Will you marry me?"

You can't believe what's happening. Your eyes well up with happy tears, and all you can manage is a nod. The words feel lodged in your throat, too precious to speak. Rafe takes your trembling hand and slides the ring onto your finger, the diamond glinting in the candlelight. It fits perfectly, like it was made just for you, which of course it was.

The restaurant goes quiet for a moment, and you realize everyone is looking at you. You blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The patrons erupt into applause, and the chef himself emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, to congratulate you both. The waitress brings over a complimentary dessert, a beautiful black forest cake with a single candle in the center. Rafe whispers something to her, and she smiles conspiratorially before lighting the candle and retreating.

He leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. "Make a wish," he says, and you know he's not just talking about the candle. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and make a silent wish that the love you share will only grow stronger with time. As you blow out the candle, the warmth of the flame tickles your cheeks. When you open your eyes, Rafe is grinning at you, looking happier than you've ever seen him. You smile, feeling a new sense of pride in your fiancé.

taglist: @rafecameroncoke, @0xstarzx0 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @v4mqvs , @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr

[adnauseum11]

Point of Contact (John Price x Reader)

John reaches out to Kate for a favour.

850 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

It is the absolute crack of dawn when Kate gets the call she’s been expecting for the last few hours. She’s up, mainlining coffee and checking her emails relentlessly when her cell vibrates across the desk.

“John?”

“Kate.”

Kate’s initial impression is that John sounds tired. Immediately she wonders if she’ll get the full story from him or have to rely on Gaz’ version.

“Gaz said you were going to have a name for me to run? What’s happened?” Her concern is unmistakable down the line.

Of course, Kyle told her what happened, but she wants to hear it from John himself. Their past squabble is sidelined immediately without discussion. John sighs and Kate can picture her friend pacing and pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Her place got broken in to yesterday. Guy didn’t touch obvious jewellery, or cash, seemed to be looking for information. Not sure what type of information or to what end just yet. Dislocated his shoulder before the police picked him up so he’ll be with medical for a little bit. Could be something, could be nothing. I’m hoping we can use their detour through medical to do a little information gathering of our own.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a B&E gone bad, John?” Kate tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Worst B&E I’ve ever seen if that’s the case. Man was empty handed after a sizable head start. Odd time of day too, right when people are getting home from work.”

“You think he meant to do more than rob her?”

“Don’t know. Scared the hell out of her at the least. But he wasn’t doing any talking and I’m no good to her arrested so I didn’t force the issue. He’s booked on B&E but he didn’t technically steal anything. He’ll get a slap on the wrist at best. Never hated being a fucking civilian more in my life.”

Kate can hear the frustration in his voice. For a man like John, used to making things happen and getting answers by any means necessary, being beholden to the laws and skills of the local police force was particularly infuriating.

“What’s the name?”

John gives her the name from the police report, spelling it out for her.

“I’ll owe you if we can get this put to rest sooner than later. I’m hoping it’s nothing and just some tweaker, her place isn’t in the best part of town but something’s just not sitting right for me. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts where there’s nothing, but I want to be sure.”

“You really should move her out of there John, either way.” Kate can’t help but prod him about it, finding it out of character for John to be lax about security.

“You think I’m unaware? I thought I was going to have to drag her out of there last night. I’m going to have to pick my moment with that topic.” John’s cranky, making Kate smile to herself.

“At least it sounds like you know what you’re up against.”

John’s huff of amusement is weak, even over the staticky line.

“This favour, would it have limitations?”

Kate switches topics easily, only half teasing. She isn’t above making her own life easier down the road, even if it temporarily complicates John’s. That give and take has been a natural part of their friendship for years.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.” John defers, and Laswell decides to take pity on the man and let him get away with it for the moment.

“Gaz said she seemed nice. When do I get an introduction?” Kate tacitly accepts the terms of his offer, moving on to personal interest.

“After I get some answers. We’ll have dinner, my treat.” John sweetens the deal further, a peace offering for their last interaction.

“Alright, I’m going to hold you to that. It’s not every day I get the chance to meet someone who can order a Captain around in his own home.”

Kate can’t help taking a swipe at the man, Gaz’ report including just as much detail on the state of John and his woman as anything else to Kate’s delight.

“Unbelievable, fucking Gaz, listen she was not having a good time of it yesterday–“

John’s trying to explain but Kate cuts him off before he can get very far.

“Knowing you, I’m sure not. I’m also sure that after you were asked to keep it down so she could sleep, you did, you big softie. Certainly, you two left an impression on Kyle.”

Kate’s smile bleeds through the line and the corner of John’s mouth quirks up finally at her gentle teasing despite his concern over how yesterday shook out.

“Bloody hell. Don’t make me regret agreeing to dinner, Kate.” He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll update you after I do some digging John, keep your phone handy.”

"Thanks, Laswell."

John's gratitude is palpable. The knot of tension in his chest relaxes infinitesimally, and he disconnects the call and leaves the kitchen to rejoin you, still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms