#once she was made aware that there was no threat she took a turn

[lumibuns-blog]

Ghost x Soaps roomie

Ghosts and Gaz stay the week and Soap's apartment. Ghost falls head over heels for you and can't seem to think of anything else.

Sorry this is a bit late🙏 the next part will have more Simon and reader alone heheh.

It was around 6pm when you finally did get back, the elevator in your and Johnny's building had been out of service for what felt like forever, so you made the trek up six flights of stairs all while carrying all of that week's groceries.

Simon sat in the one arm chair of your living room while Johnny and Kyle took the couch. The TV played some rugby game that was of absolutely no interest to Simon. Usually he liked to relax and watch with his mates but his mind was currently all too aware of everything around him.

You had surely sat in this chair at some point? Was he being intrusive by sitting in it? Had you picked out the rug that laid between him and the TV? Actually scratch that, the busy pattern gave away the fact that Johnny must have made that purchase. It was like he could feel your presence in the very air around him, not to mention his constant anticipation of wanting you to come back. Would he actually talk to you once you did? Probably not if he was being realistic but part of him hoped you could see into his mind and understand how happy it made him feel to simply be in your presence.

A loud knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, it was silent for a moment, the another knock, louder and more intense.

Almost out of instinct Simon started to get up so that he could get the door.

"Nah give it just a second mate" Johnny began from his place on the couch, him in Kyle's interest no longer being captured by the game "it's funnier if ya jus' wait a tic"

"The hell are you-" Kyle began

"JOHN MACTAVISH I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE" you yelled exasperatedly through the door

"Aye ya 'ave a key don'tcha?" Johnny quipped

"Really mate-" Kyle began again

"I just carried all of our groceries up like six flights of stairs, now get your ass off the couch and open the goddamn door" There was a chilling lack of emotion in your voice as you continued to berate him

Simon, without a second thought, finished getting up and strode over to the door

"Aw you're no fun" Johnny groaned "usually I wait 'bout 5 minutes, till she starts makin' death threats" he laughed

Simon just rolled his eyes a began to open the door

"You are one selfish bastard you know tha- oh! Hey sorry, didn't know it was you opening the door" he watched your annoyed face slowly turn into one of relief as you smiled up at him. 2 bags of groceries in each hand, silently he took all four of them from you while propping the door open with his heal, giving you enough room to enter.

You short circuited momentarily as his hands brushed against yours, still slightly shocked you managed a "you really don't have to do that...but that you" as you slipped into the apartment.

Simon resolved that he really did need to do that because the smile you had given him made his whole body feel like it was on fire. You made your way to the couch as he let the door close

"Honestly I really should have known it was one of you two" you sighed "This asshole would have left me out there another 10 minutes" as if to punctuate your point, you delivered a quick, but harsh slap to the back of Johnny's head.

Kyle failed to stifle a laugh at his friends clearly exaggerated, upset expression "deserved 'hat one soap" he cackled

You made your way to the kitchen where Simon was, once again wordlessly, beginning to put away the groceries he had grabbed. You flitted over to his side, a warm smile on your face.

"You really don't have to do that" you said reaching to take a stick of butter out of his hand

He immediately held it up away from your reach. " 'S fine" was all he said before opening the fridge and continuing to put things away as you rushed to try and help.

"Such a bloody gentleman aren'tcha Lt." Johnny chimed, him and Kyle making their way to the kitchen, the rugby game long forgotten.

"Bloody stubborn is more like it" you teased, mocking your roommates accent and shooting a glance at the man in question.

"Someone's outta do it" Simon shrugged

"Look at that!" Kyle clapped his hand over Johnny's back "you even find a way to weasel out'a chores at home, ay soap?"

"Oh don't worry, I make him do the dishes" you laughed

"Ya didnea make me a do a 'thing 'bon" Johnny grumbled "I choose 'a do the dishes 'cause you do the cookin'"

"Really? I didn't know choosing required so much whining and convincing" you smirked, back turned to him. Though it was true you did do most, if not all the cooking. Johnny had tried to cook two times at the apartment, set off a fire alarm one time and ruined a pan the other. So you took care of the cooking, just doubling the proportions when he was home from deployment, it was cheaper to cook anyways. Not to mention you can always force him to order take out if you really don't feel like it.

"I dinnae whine missy" Johnny mused, faking a genuine offense

"Yeah whatever you say missy" you smirked over your shoulder at seeing his perturbed expression when you mocked him "well what do you want for dinner then?"

You turned to face all three men, who had now congregated on the other side of the kitchen island, now that Simon had finished helping with the groceries.

"Oh! can ya' make that one pasta-" Johnny started

You cut him off almost immediately "I'm not your asking you dumbass" you chided "I was asking our guests" you gestured over Simon and Kyle with an expectant look on your face.

"Ya see this lads?" Johnny huffed "look at what I 'ave to put up wit', in ma' own home no less!"

"I'd be meaner if you weren't in the lease"

"Ah!" Johnny clutched his heart like he had been shot "ya don' really mean that now do 'ya?"

You continued to banter with your roommate while Gaz watched with genuine intrigue. Simon on the other hand was having a bit of a moment. He can't even remember the last time he had a home cooked meal, not to mention having someone offer to cook him whatever he wanted. He was a bit jealous of his friend, who obviously got to have your food whenever he was home for deployment. He tried to think of something he would like to eat but his mind was so overwhelmed he couldn't think straight.

"You really are a pain in my ass" you grumbled

"Ah ya know I love things in ma' arse"

"Ew Johnny what the fuck!? You're so gross!" You threw a kitchen towel at him

Kyle broke out of his laughing fit just long enough to actually make a request "if you're offerin', I'd kill for some proper chicken noodle soup" he smiled "stuff on base 's just glorified water"

Simon silently cursed himself for being too slow but really anything made by you sounded like heaven.

"Hm let me see if we have chicken stock" you turned to look in one of the cabinets below the sink, bending over. Simon watched as your sweat pants hugged your ass perfectly as you bent over. It suddenly became very hot in the flat and he was having a hard time swallowing, not to mention figuring out where to look so he just quickly turned his head away to look at a very interesting spot on the wall.

Soap elbowed Gaz, pointing to get him to look at their friend, and a knowing smirk adorned both their faces.

"Yep we'll have plenty!" You smiled, standing up and turning around. Simon couldn't decide whether he was relieved or disappointed at your change of position. "Give me an hour and I'll set you all straight" you turned on the stove and Simon jumped slightly as it clicked, the hell had gotten into him?

It didn't take you long to whip up something to eat, and within the hour all four of you were perched on your high top stools around the kitchen island.

You watched as Ghost took off his face mask to eat. In every picture you had been forced to see, he always had a full a skull mask on, completely covering his whole face. So it had already been a shock when you saw him with just a small face covering, but seeing him with nothing covering his face confirmed what you had long suspected. This man was fucking gorgeous.

Kyle, Johnny, and you all dug in immediately, the two men just happy to have a good meal and you being starving from your trip to the gym and trek up the stairs. Simon however, remained unmoving as he sat directly across from you. You had tied your hair back to keep it out of your way, only a few loose strands slipping down by your face. He watch as you blew on the soup before gently lifting it to your mouth, he watched as your lip curled at Johnny's obnoxious slurping and hurried eating style. He could have watched you forever, he wanted to just silently observe every action and idiosyncrasy you made. You fascinated him with your every move and how you seemed to be so gentle yet so direct with your words and actions captivated him.

His moment of quiet observance didn't last much longer as Johnny piped up, "ya know ya can eat it, right Ghost?" He asked with eyebrow raised "I know the chicken might be a tad bit raw, but she isn't that bad of a cook" he teased

"It is not raw!" You slapped his forearm are glared up at him from your chair

You whipped back around to face Simon "if ya don't like it ghost I can whip up something else" you asked him with genuine concern

"No no 's fine I jus' got-"

"Aye I think he likes it a little too much is all love" Kyle grinned nudging his friend's side

"Knock it off" Simon growled

"Was just teasin," Kyle chuckled putting his arms up in the air to show his submission.

You looked at him with a slightly befuddled expression, not quite understanding what they were trying to communicate to you. As if sensing your confusion, within seconds Simon had pounded down the entire bowl and was timidly asking if he could have second. You just smiled and got up to get him more.

"Aye can ya get me some more 's well 'bon" Johnny called behind his shoulder

"No"

"Why is he gettin' special treatment eh?"

"Because he isn't a pain in my ass all day, now go and get it yourself man, ya have legs"

Johnny reluctantly got up to get his own seconds, not before mumbling a quiet "and you wonder why you're single" under his breath that you very much heard

"What did you just say?" You questioned

"Think it's pretty clear ya 'eard me" he taunted

"Your no better than I am dipshit, last girl you invited over stood ya up"

"Oye dinnae embarrass me in front 'a ma lads!" he scoffed

"Don't pick a fight you can't win" you shrugged

He grumbled and rolled his eyes as he sat back down but he didn't miss the flash of opportunity in his friend's eyes having learned you were, in fact, single.

"She didnae stand me up" Johnny began to defend himself "she jus' lived 2 hours away a couldn't get 'ere with 'er schedule an' all"

Without missing a beat you retorted "yeah I don't blame 'er, would've been a waste to drive 2 hours for 2 minutes"

"You little-" Johnny began before being cut off by Gaz's hysterical laughter and Ghost's hacking as he choked on his soup.

"Now look what ya've done!" Johnny accused, still trying to control his friend's laughter

"Oh god ya miserable bastard" Kyle wiped a tear from his eye "every time I think it can't get worse for you mate"

Johnny just scowled before turning back to you "jus' wait till I reveal all a your shite, won't be so fuckin' funny then aye?"

You continued to banter between yourselves as Kyle and Simon slowly regained their composure.

"How the 'ell did you two even end up as roommates?" Simon finally asked, causing you to both immediately cease your arguing and look towards him.

"I had to"

"Cuz we're mates"

You both answered him at the same time and Johnny turned back to you, an exaggeratedly hurt expression across his face.

"I thought ya liked me lass?" He gasped

"Do I act like I like you?" You questioned him, stifling a laugh

"Away 'n bile yer heid" he snapped

Though the moment might have seemed tense, anybody with eyes could see the adoration you two had for each other, banter had become almost a type of platonic love language for you both. It had become practically impossible to stay mad at someone who was smirking just as much as you.

Simon took a moment to take it all in. The moment, though heated, held a sort of domesticity to it. You two seemed so natural in the way you spoke with each other, and he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. What if you and Johnny had something going on? Some sort of unsaid romantic feelings? I mean he wasn't for sure but it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities seeing as you two lived together already. He didn't want it to be the case but that might be the inevitable option all things considered-

As Johnny stood up to clean his plate, without missing a beat or even looking in his direction, you delivered a fatal nut tap to the poor man and he practically crumbled to the floor

"Shit" he choked out "That...was low"

You just smirked in response

Yeah, Simon's previous sporadic thoughts left head, that defiantly wasn't the case.

If you like this there's more on my profile or under the first tag + I'll be writing more in the future<3

Tag list:

@weemansoap @dreamtofus @imjustheretofightforlove @eclecticmentalitypersona

I'm so sorry idk how tags work🙏🙏🙏

[grugruel]

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

A campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout.

Smoldering flakes of ash rose skyward in tired swirls, and the woman's face lit up, sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing precious space from all else.

Trees around her rustled, and she leaned back against the rockwall. An overhanging cliff sheltering her.

Guard lowered, at last. She let herself slide down the wall until she felt the ground beneath her thighs. Then dove deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire was not her fault.

Not only was the law after her, but they'd also sent out money hungry bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved to be quite the nuisance. But they wouldn't be a problem anymore unless they died of starvation, which would indeed be u fortunate.

She gritted her teeth at the memory, her eyes interanally. She doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond.

Back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between the thick stems beyond. Her vision was good, and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her.

"Ma'am."

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

"Mister," she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he dealt was unmistakable. 'There's quite the bounty on you, girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth of the fire.

"There's no doubtin' that," she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, "Although im only worth half of it, I assure you."

She moved slowly, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. ". . . 'S that so?. . ." He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. "Mister, I'm not a murderer. The sheriff framed me." She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

The man chuckled. "I belive ya' ma'am." His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. "But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes." His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. "But, a bounty 's still a bounty girl."

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly weak. Unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her in a sense too literal for her liking.

"And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . ." His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt–and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward, and her feet was swept from under her–then, just as suddenly, it sped up again.

Like a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushed up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up with friction she was sure could start a fire, her stumache churned the thought.

The woman rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation–and there he stood. Just by her feet, he loomed over her. With his back to the fire, it cast a back-lit glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her waist, foirtyfying her restraints and securing his valuable bounty tightly.

He grabbed the lasso and pulled her up diagonally. It pinched her midriff painfully and pulled her body flush against his, just so he could level her head with his. ". . . And I've done bad things," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, and lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps and spread like a wildfire over her skin.

He straightened his legs and stood back, pulling her with him while keeping their bodies close together.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope around her abdomen until they were at her waist. And in one strong motion–he threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped in surprise. "You brute!" Kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. "You keep your hands to yourself Mister!" She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

"Yes, ma'am." He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind. "That's not the kind of bad man I am."

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadn't planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. "Well, good," she said curtly, calming herself.

Being a nuisance and making this whole situation worse would be a bad idea, and she hadn't made any progress thus far, seeing as his grip was solid steel. So she'd have to settle her mind with the feeling of his strong back beneath her instead. In fact, she was reveling in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse. "Sittin' or layin'?" He asked, being nice enough to hand her to option of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, "what a gentleman. Take a guess Mister," she muttered.

He nodded, "Sittin' with me it is." His hands moved to her waist, and easily transfered her from his shoulder and onto the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look could certainly have killed him. "Quite presumtions of you."

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, one hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against the saddle, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, "Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures."

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, but she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, "Id like to see you try." And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her back and leaned over her shoulder. "I will if you'd let me, respectfully, ma'am," he whispered in her ear and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated.

The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

Finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the early morning of her capture to the next night. If that weren't enough, a heatwave had been raging for the entirety of the day as well, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh, the way he toiled away.

He'd removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, respectively rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

Goodness, focus. She needed to hatch a plan.

Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been successful so far.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped back to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under, the waist of his pants.

She swallowed. In that exact moment, she wanted nothing more than to see where that trail ended.

Her jaw began aching, she fought to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze to the ground instead, a d impatiently waited for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette had been placed between his lips, and was currently being inhaled with fervor. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

"Want one, girl?" He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

"I do, yes," she answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched onto one knee in front of her, his arm bracing on top of the other. "You'll have to do better than that," he said.

He plucked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain. "Go on," he nodded.

Reluctantly, she followed his orders, but met his eyes to make sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in.

Closing her lips around the cigarette, she could feel the dampness where his own lips had been moments before, and sucked the toxic smoke into her lungs, as if it were air.

She swore she saw something glint in his eyes, studying her pouting lips. And a plan struck her suddenly, but–

"Good girl," he hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette while she worked to regain her composure. "You alright there, sweetheart?" He asked with a grin and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

"Just fine, mister," she hissed, still reeling. "You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?"

He nodded and pulled out an old bottle of bourbon from his bag, "Could you?" She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. "Got somethin' for me, then?"

Insinuations led her down a path of filthy thoughts, but she instead opted for a simple, "Please?" Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt. "That's more like it," he mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. "Try anythin'. . ." He raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice to a mocking tone. ". . . Run, hurt me, trick me." His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip tugging. "And there'll be a steep price to be paid."

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, "I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that."

He nodded. "S'pose so. . ." And began untying. "The difference is, girl–" The lasso loosened and slid down her sides. "–that I'd never get caught." He gathered it and pulled it over her body, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips, the sides of her breasts.

Her breath hitched, and their eyes met. Her skin tingled desperately as fluttering wingbeats set off in her stumache. Such a small thing, building into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire and put the lasso bag in his saddlebag. Finally replacing himself on another log, not as far away from her this time. He leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate. "It's not easy, you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you, Mr Morgan."

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question. "You know me?"

"I know of you," she corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. "All bad I hope." He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. "Many of the ladies say you're handsome."

At this, he looked up at her, chuckling. "Well, I don't know 'bout that."

"It's true. . ." Antoher sip, followed by a hiccup. "They say you can be quite the gentleman too."

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humored her. "Depends on the lady." He reached for the bottle, and she stood up to give it to him. Walking closer, she handed it over, fingers brushing against each other in the motion.

His eyes met hers, and she brushed her hand under his chin. "You know what else they say, Mr Morgan?"

"No . . . What do they say about me, sweetheart?" A smirk made its way onto his lips. The liquor seamingly starting to affect the pair of them.

"That you're good in bed. . ." he stepped between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hummed appreciatively, then took another sip of the bourbon and set the bottle aside. His hands reached for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him, squeezing them at his pleasure. "They're only rumours girl." He tilted his head backward, resting it against the tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hiked her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she stepped over his legs. One at a time, then slowly sank down on his lap, while his hands automatically slid to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge. He grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

"See, I doubt that, Mr Morgan." She whispered. "Women do not lie to eachother of such things." His bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her. It took strength to will it from her lips and only reach her eyes. "They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood." As she said that, she could've sworn she detected the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan, blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself and the smile reached her lips.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. "That's told of me in everythin' I do." He smirked, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

"But you're always sweet 'n caring." She continued, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It grew harder to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, and deaming them minor in conparison to her needs, she rocked her hips downward–grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as shenuzzled his cheek. "Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys-"

"Girl," he interrupted with a chuckle. "Dont think I dont know what you're doin'. . ." He breathed. "Seducin' me." With the tight grip on her hips, he rocked her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shot out to burry itself in his hair. She leaned into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rested her head against his shoulder. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, returning the gesture and muttered. "You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screwed her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she could do to answer him was hum in admittal as she strained hard to focus.

He chuckled. "Easy girl. . ." His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slowed her hips, but keeps the pace hard. "Use your words." He ordered, loving the way she fell apart for him.

She nodded hastily, hoping it'd be enough satisfy his request. But he pinched her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrowed in pain. However, not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep hidden anymore. "Yes– yes. . ." She moaned, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

"Thought so," he breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. Suddenly, his hands left her hips, snd one arm snaked around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stood, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. "Mr Morgan?" She inquired, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walked them toward the tent. "Arthur," he corrected, carrying her with ease. Pushing the tent flap to the side, he kneeled, bending over her as he placed her on the ground.

"Arthur," she smiled, worry seeping out of her as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slid apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shot up in response, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes met. "Please. . ." She whimpered, one hand sliding downward. ". . .Please." She said again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. "Outlaw or gentleman?" She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

A grutn escaped him while his lips brushed over hers. "Neither." And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch and catching the other in the same motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, "Arthur, please. . ." Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completely different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope stinging her skin. She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckled, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrected her, "Should've behaved." And when done, he sat back. Observing her as she laid tied up, legs spread in front of him, and circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. "It's late."

"Arthur. . ." She pleads, attempting to appeal to him, one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral. "Get some sleep. You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow." He flashed his eyebrows smugly. "Night, sweetheart." Then exited the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelievable.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he called her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. "I warned you, girl." He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

"Thrid times the charm." She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "That so?" His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. "Repeat that for me girl."

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, "No." Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. "Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart."

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. "Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?" She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. "I just might." He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. "May I do with you as I please?"

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. "Yes– yes, Arthur please." Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. "Need ya' Arthur, please." She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. "Sure about this?" He asked, a final reassurance.

"Yes." She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

"Good girl." He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. "You close girl?" He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

"Mhm. . . So- close.'" She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. "You're alright girl." He breathes reassuringly, "Well done Sweetheart."

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, "Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man." She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. "Surprised?" She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, "Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl."

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 3

prev first

“Hey, Alphabet.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. He swiveled his head around 180 degrees, grinning down at the short king that had approached him.

“Hello, Lucifer! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The king leaned more heavily on one leg, spinning his cane with his left hand. “Charlie’s getting kind of worried about one of the residents, so she asked me to look into it.”

“Aaaannd?” Alastor said, snapping his neck as he tilted his head.

Lucifer said your name. Alastor’s ears twitched.

Something was going on with you? Charlie was worried? What had happened-

“So what the fuck do you want with ‘em?” Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” Alastor straightened up his posture as he spoke, turning to face the king completely.

“You’ve been stalking them for the past, like, two weeks.” Lucifer said. He spun his cane back towards him, nestling it under his arm as he motioned with his hand “Let me remind you: you’re not allowed to harm residents of the hotel.”

“I wasn’t aware I was attempting to.” Alastor said, eye twitching yet again.

“Then why are you following them- oh.” Lucifer cut himself off abruptly, seemingly having an epiphany. The fallen angel’s eyes widened, light gleaming in them “Oh! OOOOOH!”

“….what?” Alastor said, not following the king’s train of thought.

Lucifer was bouncing on his feet, grinning so wide it rivalled the Radio Demon’s. His eyes were practically sparkling “I know what’s going on~!” He sang, elbowing Alastor in the side “Y’gotta be straightforward, bambi!”

Alastor took a large step back and took a good amount of joy watching the king fall into his face. He cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Lucifer rose from the floor, propping his chin up on his hands while kicking his feet behind him “You, y’know, want their attention!”

“That’s absurd.” Alastor hissed.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“None.”

“You sure?”

“Lucifer if you continue this pointless back-and-forth I will rip out your wings and grill them.”

Lucifer actually paused, letting the side of his head hit the floor as he studied Alastor. There was a bright flash of sparkles and the king appeared on Alastor shoulder in the form of a snake (with a hat). “That kind of sssoundsss like a threat they came up with.”

Alastor chucked Lucifer off of his shoulder. The king poofed back into his usual self mid-air and hovered there. “SooOooOooo…. Do they… y’know?” Lucifer giggled, fanning his hand outwards as rainbow-colored magic filled the space between them “Inspire you?”

“This conversation is pointless and I’m leaving.” Alastor scoffed, making true of his statement by immediately shadow-ing away.

Lucifer landed on his feet and put his wings away. Seems Bambi either doesn’t realize or is too stubborn to admit it out loud. Well. If there was one thing Lucifer learned about the glorified bellhop…

Is that man was made of 105% spite.

Later that day at dinner, Lucifer forsook his usual seat in order to sit next to you. While some of the residents were mildly confused by this (as usually people never ventured from their self-assigned seats), no one particularly cared.

You paid him little extra attention either, simply moving on with the meal as per usual. However, seated across from you, Alastor’s eyes were narrowed intently at the king. Lucifer grinned and dusted off the old charm.

“Heeey, y’know, I was wondering…why are you in Hell to begin with?” Lucifer said, propping his chin up on his hand “Surely an angel like you just got lost?”

Charlie spat out her drink on her end of the table and keeled over while coughing violently, Vaggie frantically rubbing her back to get her situated. Once she was all right (giving a shakey thumbsup), you gave the king a bemused look.

“It’s rude to ask a person of indistinguishable gender what got them hell-bound.” You hummed.

Lucifer paused in his response, too concerned with Charlie’s situation. She gave him another thumbsup and he hesitantly turned his attention back to you.

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” He lidded his eyes, leaning slightly closer “I simply can’t help but want to learn all about you~”

You put a hand over his face and pushed him back “Personal space.”

“Fair.” Lucifer said with one finger up, his voice muffled by your hand.

You retracted your hand and rolled your eyes “Well, I’m not a super share-y person…I mean I’ll do it during Charlie’s redemption activities but that’s about it.”

“And that’s okay!” Charlie chimed in, “I appreciate your efforts!”

You gave her a thumbs up. Lucifer took the pause to glance at Alastor, to find the deer man only paying half attention. Well. That wasn’t what he was aiming for. Absentmindely, Lucifer picked a fry off your plate and chomped down on it.

“Dad! That’s not your plate.” Charlie said, motioning awkwardly.

Lucifer was going to apologize (he’s a bit of an airhead, he knows…) but you made the funniest goddam squeak he had ever heard in his life. Never had he seen anyone so comedically offended by someone eating their fries.

He couldn’t help it- he laughed.

“Dad!” Charlie squeaked “Don’t laugh at them-!”

“S-s-sorry Char-Char but that SQUEAK- Oh my lord…”

He wasn’t the only one laughing. The spider person was joining in, throwing arm across your shoulders in a friendly manner while you seethed in silent resentment. Bar cat chuckled a bit under his breath, Vaggie and Charlie were both trying to suppress their giggles, and Nifty was howling with deranged cackling. Alastor took a drink from his mug but didn’t react much more than a slight snort.

“Lucifer I am going to fill your socks with mayonnaise when you sleep.” You muttered out.

Everyone burst into more hysterical laughter.

Except Alastor.

Who broke his mug in his hand like it was made of crackers.

At the sound of shatter ceramic, everyone’s attention shifted to him.

“Whoops!” Alastor grinned, shrugging non-chalantly as blood dripped down the hand that now had shards of ceramic in it.

“OhMyGosh, Alastor!” Charlie yelped, jumping to her feet “I’ll get the first aid kit-“

“No need, Charlotte!” Alastor hummed, getting to his feet. He reached over the table and picked you up by the back of your shirt like a kitten, tucking you under one arm as he walked off with you. “This one is responsible for the mug shattering, this one will take care of the wound.”

“Wait- Alastor-“ Charlie took a step to follow, but you waved her down and gave her a reassuring smile. Charlie hesitated a moment before sitting back down.

The table fell into an awkward silence. Lucifer was vibrating in his seat while grinning. Nifty was doing the same thing. The rest of the table-people wondered if they were somehow communicating this way.

Meanwhile, for you, Alastor had you held like a suitcase as he entered the kitchen, setting you on your feet.

You dusted yourself off and made for the cabinet the first aid kit was in. Alastor, frankly, had no plan other than to get you away from that joke of a king. So he was left standing their awkwardly as you patched his hand up gently. (He could’ve done it himself, it didn’t even hurt, he just did not want you wasting those ‘threats’ on that stupid lawn-gnome looking bastard)

“There you go.” You said, putting the unused first aid materials back in the kit and the kit back in the pantry.

Your name left Alastor’s lips.

You looked back at him, head tilted slightly.

His treacherous mind abruptly shoved forward the memory of you biting him. Teeth sinking into his shoulder, his blood on your face and the cold look you gave him afterwards. His heartbeat started to race. It was so different from now, your big eyes looking at him softly as though you could warm his entire soul with your gaze alone.

How amusingly two-faced of you…

“Alastor?” You said. He jolted back to the moment, tilting his head.

“Aplogies. Thank you, my dear.” He hummed.

“uh. Sure.” You said, tail flicking in irritation. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told!”

=============================================

Deer man's in denial.

[futurepastme]

At King Emry's Court: Full Scene

(The badass King Merlin AU)

Excerpt: Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…" "I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again. "I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

In the middle of nowhere, northwest from Albion, was the island known by magic users as Elysium. Elysium seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, nobody had ever heard about it until about twenty years after Uther Pendragon started his war against magic.

Slowly, rumors of this island began to grow and eventually what was only a myth became real. Some kingdoms of Albion turned their eyes to the island; interested in their growing economy, the chance to trade with them and the chance to forge alliances. Soon enough the island that was known to be the magic users paradise — their hiding place if you will — became a bustling and well succeeded kingdom.

The King of Elysium was known mostly by name, a hooded figure by the name of Emrys. Few were the people that knew his face, most of them were part of the select group he chose to manage the island while he was away.

Emrys was rarely seen, his way of ruling the kingdom was different than everything one might have seen before for Emrys rarely stayed at the island, leaving it on the hands of his chosen few.

The chosen few were known as the seven, most of their identities were also unknown as they all chose to wear a hooded cape at all times, so they were mostly known as their assigned number.

As the Kingdom grew in strength and wealth, Uther Pendragon began losing allies and what was once seen as a strong man with a just fight in the name of good, was slowly turning into a madman thirsty for revenge and bloodshed.

Trying to save face, King Uther scheduled a visit to the island. He was indeed curious about the kingdom and about Emrys himself, but with his visit he hoped to learn their weaknesses and find enough information to create doubt amongst the other kingdoms of Albion and turn them against magic once more.

King Emrys kindly invited Camelot's party to spend the harvest celebrations with them, a week-long festival where both magic-folk and humans thanked the goddess and the land for the given provisions for the winter. Along with King Uther, Prince Arthur and a handful of servants and knights went on their way to meet the mysterious island.

Upon arrival, Camelot's party were welcomed by the seven, the man and woman that managed the island in Emrys absence. Uther didn't like it, he wanted nothing more than meet the man that dared to go against him, but Emrys was nowhere to be seen.

After two days of not finding the sorcerer, Uther demanded a meeting with Emrys' court and was surprised when he found out that even if his wish for a meeting was granted, Emrys himself still wouldn't see him.

Merlin was Prince Arthur's manservant — he had been for years as a reward for saving Arthur's life — and as the prince's servant he was granted the privilege of joining them on their visit to the island. But Merlin was more than a servant — in Prince Arthur's eyes he was closer to a friend — so Merlin also had the honour to be allowed in council meetings.

That's why Merlin now sat at the back of the room watching as King Uther made angry demands at Elysium's court, screaming at the councilwoman that had been introduced as the main representative and the second of the seven. He watched as the woman was interrupted again and again, as she tried to reason with the mad king that demanded to see Emrys and made threats of war.

He had had enough, there was nothing the woman could do against Uther, especially in the state he was in. Merlin took a step forward, and then another, slowly letting his secret seep out of him.

Upon noticing his movement, some of Elysium's councilmen and women started to move as well, until one of them raised their voice to say "All rise for the Lord Emrys," and Merlin fully let his magic out, allowing it to change his garments into ones more befitting of a king. He walked to his seat at the center of the room and, upon reaching it, turned around taking in the many emotions passing through the faces of Camelot's citizens that were in the room.

Uther's face was red as he restarted his complaints, this time filled with accusations, insults, and even more threats.

"You are nothing but a lowly servant!"

Merlin had enough, he had been done with Uther a long time ago and now he was filled with a rage he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I'm aware of what I am, Uther Pendragon." he started, his voice growing louder in order to compete with Uther's own screaming. "I am a peasant. I was born to grow crops," Merlin continued his speech standing up slowly.

"I was born to scrub floors, polish boots and clean chamber-pots. I was never suppose to be King, I wasn't suppose to have people depending on me, on my choices; I wasn't supposed to have to lead anyone or give anyone hope."

Merlin walked towards Uther, staring him dead in the eyes with such intensity that brought a golden gleam to his still blue irises.

"I never once asked for riches, for power; and I never asked to be King."

He stopped right in front of Uther, still staring at him, and brought his voice down. "You are the one who gave me this crown."

Uther had his face completely red, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

"You can scream all you want," Merlin continued, turning around and heading back to his seat. "You can hate me and my people, my kind; you can try and make demands and threats, but I assure you, you will not have it your way."

"Then you have chosen war." Uther said when Merlin paused his speech long enough to sit down.

Merlin looked at the small man in front of him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"War?" He snorted, "you can't go to war with me, Uther. How would that even work?"

Merlin smiled and frowned his eyebrows. "We are in an island, Camelot has no ships of its own. You are here because you used my ships." He leaned back.

"Besides, who says I want war with Camelot? I actually quite like the place, you know? I have a bunch of friends there."

"Camelot is no friend of magic users, we will fight to rid the world of your little nest of pests."

Merlin dropped his smile, his eyes grew sharp once again as he focused on Uther, and he let out a sigh. "By the goddess you are tiresome."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Here's the deal, I will give you three options to choose from. You can choose whatever one you like most, I'll be happy with any of them."

Uther seemed ready to speak again but never got the chance.

"Option number one: We sign a peace treaty similar to the ones I have with other kingdoms where we'll begin to plan trade routs and the such to start collaborating with each other, but you will have to stop your persecution and the bloodshed against my people," Merlin scrunched up his nose. "I'll not even demand that you lift the ban completely, merely that the punishment fits the crime committed and that you stop actively hunting us down."

Uther's face was getting closer to purple and he opened up his mouth. "Option number two," Merlin said louder before Uther restarted his hate speech.

"We sign an armistice and you go back to pretend this place doesn't exist and we will do the same with Camelot."

Merlin leaned back again, "which brings us to option number three: war"

Uther looked taken aback for a second that war was actually in one of his 'options', he looked eager to respond but Merlin raised his hand interrupting him again.

"Let me explain something about option number three before you choose. First of all, even if you manage to find ships to bring your knights across the sea, I assure you they will not make it to the port. The only ships that can anchor at my shores are the ones I allow to."

Merlin let the information sink in before continuing.

"Secondly, even if you manage to bring your man to my island you'll still have the three levels of protection shields that won't allow you to pass. Not mentioning the amount of magic users that would be eager to get their own personal revenge against anyone wearing Camelot's colours."

Merlin shook his head in disapproval.

"Finally, and this is the main one so pay attention; if you do choose to go to war against me, if you are so eager to erase magic from earth that you decide to go out of your way to persecute my kind in this sacred place; I promise you that no knight, no soldier, no innocent human from Camelot or otherwise, will be harmed in your foolish war. The only person that will face consequences if you seek war against my kingdom will be yourself, Uther Pendragon, and I'll make sure of it."

Merlin leaned forward again and rested his chin on his hands. "It's about time you start taking responsibility for your own mistakes, and assume the consequences of them like the man and king you were supposed to be."

The room went silent. Merlin's threat hang heavily in the air taking away the voices of everyone in the room, even from his own council who did not expect that decision. They all knew Merlin loved Camelot, and that he had a soft spot for it's prince.

"You dare to threaten me."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and a startled laugh escaped in a breath and soon turned into a giggle fit that was joined by the rest of Elysium's council.

"You are joking, right?"

"I demand a fair combat between our kingdoms, as a war is supposed to be."

"You are joking, right?" Merlin repeated. "You are not sitting in front of me, demanding war with people that you have murdered for decades and suddenly decide that you are pro-fairness just because things aren't going your way. Because if you are… well that's amusing, really. And befitting"

Merlin cleaned dry tears from his eyes.

"You threaten to murder me…"

"Murder? No, I don't recall saying that. I said that if you went with the warpath there would be consequences and you would be the only one to pay for them. In fact," he looked at the seven man and women he trusted most, the ones that ran his kingdom for him. "I'll tell you what, you have until the end of the week to make a decision, meanwhile councilwomen two and six will gather this week to decide what your fate will be if you choose the warpath."

"And how is that fair?" Arthur spoke and for the first time since Merlin left his place at the back and took his seat as Emrys, Merlin dared to look at him.

While Merlin knew Arthur better than the man knew himself, right now Arthur was using his court face, and even if usually he could read right past that as well, all Merlin could see right now was his steadfast gaze looking right back at him.

"Councilwoman two is a non-magic user, she helps us see the things by the point of view of those who have no magic at all but still have to live with it; councilwoman number six is a magic-user who lived in Camelot for a while, she was on her way to take matters in her own hands when I convinced her otherwise and she came to my island instead."

Merlin rested his chin on his hands again.

"I usually don't mind taking part on the decision-making — of course not, how could I? — but in this case I fear my judgment might be a little…" He let his gaze wander away and land back on the prince. "Compromised."

"I see the reasoning for your councilwomen choice, but how can I be certain that what they'll chose will be fair?"

Merlin let a smirk escape, both from the irony of the word fair related to Uther and for Arthur himself. Then he shook his head.

"You are forgetting that he doesn't have to choose that path."

"I think we both know the likeliness of that."

"What would you have me do, then?"

Merlin watched as a glimpse of surprise escaped through Arthur's mask, followed by a hint of doubt before both of them were suppressed again.

"Let me…"

"No." Merlin interrupted him before he could even start, there was no way he would let Arthur decide his own father's fate if it ever came down to it.

Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…"

"I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again.

"I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

Arthur stared at Merlin with tight lips, he didn't like what Merlin had said but he also didn't have a good enough argument to go against his reasoning.

Merlin kept his gaze focused on Arthur's face trying to catch another glimpse of his emotions. He could feel his frustration and annoyance but most of all, he knew Arthur feared for his father.

"However" He continued, "I can see your point of view and after careful consideration I have come to realized that perhaps you might have a point."

Arthur looked shocked, not just a glimpse that was escaping through his mask, no, Arthur was completely shocked and it was clear for everyone to see.

"Well of course I have a point"

"Sure"

Arthur scrunched his nose in annoyance and Merlin smiled. Maybe things would be alright in the end.

"Like I was saying, you made me realize that it would be interesting to have the point-of-view of someone that has been directly under King Uther's rule and isn't connected to magic in any way in the decision making process, so I'll allow you, Prince Arthur, to chose someone from your party to speak on your kingdom's behalf."

Uther talked back at that. "If anyone should be choosing my representative, it should be me!"

Merlin had honestly forgotten Uther was still there, in fact he was so focused on Arthur that he forgot that everybody else who wasn't him were still there. He was so glad he didn't see any trace of hate in his prince's eyes that the rest of the world didn't seem to be attention worthy.

Granted, Arthur still had his mask on, but the glimpses Merlin managed to see earlier were all hatred-free, so Merlin was hopeful and if everything turned out not horrible, Merlin was considering to create a new holiday to celebrate this day.

"Honestly, Uther, the fact that you still think you have any say in my court baffles me. You entered here spitting rage and making demands like some kind of entitled child, why you would think I would let you make any decision about anything after that makes me severely concerned for your kingdom, and that's coming from someone who's been living there."

Uther spluttered.

"Arthur is choosing because the argument was his, because he seems to have his bearings and, honestly? Because he's more likable than you."

Uther's mouth opened slightly and Merlin noticed a small smile creeping up Arthur's mouth.

"Now, Prince Arthur, I'm going to need a name but if you allow me an advice, I'd tell you to choose for the kingdom, not for the man."

Arthur looked back at him in the way he always did when he thought Merlin had said something uncharacteristically wise, except this time it came with a weight Merlin couldn't place.

Merlin didn't know but Arthur was looking at him with admiration, Merlin always confused him in the sense that he seemed so much more than just a servant, like Merlin had the heart of a noble and the wisdom of a king. Now that he knew the truth about him, everything seemed to fall into place.

Merlin always had that aura around him — especially when giving Arthur advice — of someone that was destined for greatness. Learning that he was Emrys made so much sense that while looking at him right now, sitting in a throne leading and protecting his kind with certainty, Arthur didn't find it in himself room to be angry about it. Not when that scene felt so right that he wondered why he never realized how magnificent Merlin would look with a crown.

Arthur looked around the room for a while, seemingly measuring the men that had come with them.

"I can have someone brought from Camelot before lunchtime if you don't have what you need here," Merlin offered and Arthur looked surprised at him.

Merlin knew who he would've chosen. It seemed obvious to him but maybe Arthur had a different strategy.

"I choose Sir Leon," he turned to the man himself "If you feel like you're up to the task."

"It would be my honour, Sire." He bowed in agreement.

"Wonderful!" Merlin clapped his hands once which seemed to startle a few people. He smiled at Arthur's good choice before continuing. "Sir Leon will be joining the second and the sixth throughout this week to reach a mutual decision about what would be an appropriate outcome." He waved at each of them as he spoke.

"Meanwhile," he continued. "King Uther has a week to reach a decision of his own about what is to be done with both our kingdoms. While he does so I want to remind the court that the Camelot party are still our guests and must continue to be treated as such."

He looked back at Uther, "you are all, of course, still invited to partake in our harvest celebrations — there's no need for bad blood between us while a decision hasn't been made — and you are all free to explore the kingdom as you will, I just ask you all not to wander through our forests by yourselves, they have a tendency to be purposefully confusing."

He turned his gaze to his court.

"In the interest of full transparency, not more courtly meetings will be held until we gather again in a week to hear Camelot's position, all non-urgent matters shall be postpone to the week after, and the urgent ones can be brought directly to me."

"You will regret this." Uther interrupted, his voice filled with poison and disdain. "You think you can spy on me and my kingdom without consequences, I'll make you pay for your lies and your sins."

The room felt heavy again, Merlin was just tired.

"Can't wait to hear all about it next week. Court dismissed."

He stood up and his court stood with him, differently from what is done in Camelot, the Elysium court always waited for him to leave the room first before leaving their places. He wasn't sure when this began being their way but he had a suspicion it started because Merlin hated attending court and always were the first at the door when it was over.

Camelot's household watched in silence as the whole room of Elysium's court stood in place waiting for their king to leave through the door before moving to leave themselves.

It wasn't long after Merlin left that he began hearing the familiar footsteps following after him. They were strong and decisive and were marching straight towards him with purpose, soon enough he felt a strong hand around his arm and long nails digging at his sleeve. "I want him dead"

"And what else is new?"

He felt the nails digging deeper and he was forced to stop. He turned around and found himself face to face with green eyes filled with anger and annoyance.

"This isn't a joke, Merlin. Uther should die, this is the only way."

"You heard my decision, Morgana." Merlin stared back at her with a steady gaze, they had had that discussion many times before and while Morgana always complied with his decision of not going for Uther's throat, it didn't mean she was happy about it. "It's not me you have to convince of that."

"You really think Leon and Hunith will let me sentence him to death? Have you met them? They don't understand, Merlin, not like we do."

Merlin's gaze softened as he stared at her. "Do you know why I chose you to be part of the seven?"

"Because I'm powerful and have understanding of courtly matters."

"That helps, of course, but that was not the reason." Morgana's stance softened in surprise.

"Was it out of guilt?"

"What?"

"Some kind of gift to apologize for the poison?"

Merlin was taken aback with surprise, it had been a while since he thought about that day. "I thought we had put that behind us."

"We did." She sounded relieved.

"Morgana, I chose you because I trust you to fight for our kind in a way I'm not able to. You are angry, and while you might not be out for revenge anymore, it doesn't mean you would casually dismiss it like I would. But most of all, I chose you because after everything you've been through in Camelot, after Uther and after me, you still managed to maintain enough heart to not give in. I admire you, Morgana. You have a strength in you that can inspire people to follow you. I'm lucky to have you by my side and I trust you to make the right decision."

Morgana looked at him in shock, she seemed so vulnerable like this, with big doe eyes that seemed to be staring at the sun for the first time. It was gone quickly enough, she looked down and recomposed herself. "It's because of you, you know?"

"Me? I was under the impression that I made things worse."

"You did, at first, but you reached out to me later and didn't give up. I don't know what would have become of me if you hadn't. The path Morgause was taking us was not one I'd dare to follow today, it came from a place of despair and anger and I would have walked down that road with her til the end if it weren't for your persistence. We might have ended up in different sides of this war."

"I see. I'm glad it didn't came to it then."

"So am I." They smiled at each other before Merlin turned again and offered her his arm. "So, tell me, how's Morgause doing? Did she find new apprentices?"

She took his arm and laughed, "oh, you wouldn't believe it, those poor girls."

They continued their journey down the hallways of Elysium Castle, chatting and gossiping like old friends. Merlin knew there was still much to be done, he still had to find Arthur and explain himself to his prince, and he knew Uther wouldn't spend this week in silence. Just imagining the headache he could bring for his people left him slightly out of breath.

But that was a problem for another time, right now he just wanted to enjoy the pleasant company of one of his dearests friends in the world without any drama to stain it. "Anyway, let's talk about the way Arthur was looking at you, don't think I didn't notice."

Or not

"Did you hear that? I think I heard Lord Erick calling me." He let go of her and started sprinting away while laughing.

"Merlin! Come back here! You will not get away from this conversation! Merlin!" her voice echoed through the hallway as Merlin ran away with the wind.

☽♚☾

[song-witch]

Fill Me Up, Buttercup

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,467

Warnings: Southern Mommy Wanda. Fluff. Smut. Fingering (R receiving). Phone Sex (kinda?).

A/N: i don't like this but oh wellsies

Part One Part Two

“Well, howdy there, stranger.” Wanda hollered into the phone, a new smile crossing her lips.

It was more of a smirk, the right side of her smile lifting higher than the left. The opposite eyebrow raised, though it was mostly covered by the way her bangs fell over her forehead.

You could hardly focus on it, though, far too enraptured by the rather generous view her negligee gave you. She wasn’t wearing a bra, that much was evident, as they moved in time with her breathing and the movements of her hand. It was hypnotizing to say the least. You were glad she was holding your hand though, your other grasping the bed, limiting your temptation of reaching out.

Wanda’s hand moving up had you moaning, not caring about the phone on your chest. The woman above you had morals, though, and stopped moving her hand altogether, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Sorry hun, Y/n tripped over the dresser. Poor girl is so tired from her big day.” She tutted, a glare thrown your way. It was accompanied by a harsh shush under her breath. It made you shudder, your breath caught in your throat at the prospect of her stopping. Despite the dread that filled your stomach, you clenched around her fingers, just barely able to keep any sound from slipping out.

"Are you alright, darlin’?” Wanda added just moments later, clearly as a means to convince the woman on the phone that you were actually injured and not being, well… fucked. That didn’t stop her from mouthing words at you, just barely loud enough to hear the wispy ends of her letters.

“Quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want your team hearing you, huh?” The woman pouted, sticking her bottom lip out just slightly.

You groaned softly, shaking your head in agreement. You still had no idea who she was calling or hell, even why she was on the phone while, well, knuckles deep in you, but if it made her happy, you’d do it.

“Good.” Wanda smirked before turning her attention back to the phone, her fingers twitching inside of you. It wasn’t enough, though, even as you began to shimmy your hips down, hoping she’d take some mercy on you. You had to hold back a gasp as she curled the very tips of her fingers, more than aware of the silent threat behind her words.

Once again, you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow as you let your body sink down onto the mattress. It was all you could do, as you couldn’t make any noise and you were too tired to even think about doing something to be punished.

The brunette made a clicking noise with her tongue, prompting you to look back up at her. She shook her head. You knew she wanted your eyes opened, based on how she widened her own. You let your head fall onto the pillow, whimpering softly as you maintained eye contact.

“You wanna say hi, hon? Of course! I mean, how rude of us to leave without so much as a goodbye!” Wanda’s voice was an air of giddiness you knew was half real half fake, a dash of something… adventurous in the sweet tang of her accent.

You cocked your head just slightly, eyebrows furrowing, teeth clenched together. It wasn’t the only thing clenching as the older woman continued to thrust into you.

"Say hi, baby.” The brunette smiled brightly at you, curling her fingers just right into you. The noises she pulled out of you were pathetic to say the least, little whines accompanying your gasps of air. You prayed that she hadn’t gotten her phone fixed from when she dropped it in the sink while soaking dishes. At least then, the mic on the damn thing would still be shitty.

“Hi.” It took three full lungfuls of air before you responded, a stillness in the air. Wanda wasn’t still by any means though, and kept her fingers thrusting at a slow but steady pace. It wasn’t enough to make you come, but fuck was she good with her fingers.

“Hiya theres, toots. Say, you keep giving speeches like that and I’d be the one dragging you home!” The voice was so familiar and even comforting to your ears, but your mind was so foggy that it was hard to think of who it was. You could picture her, though. Brown hair. Tall. Taller than both you and Wanda. Your book. She worked on your book. Edited it. Fuck.

“Well? What do you say, baby?” Wanda’s voice had turned from that sugar filled honey to a new kind of sweetness. She knew what she was doing. She only smiled as she thrust even harder, her thumb just barely swiping over your clit. You all but moaned, arching your back into the touch.

“T-Thank you.” You whimpered, biting harshly on your tongue. Wanda shook her head, stopping her fingers momentarily to pull her hand out of yours, brushing her free thumb over your lip. You pushed your head to the side just slightly, desperately trying not to close your eyes. It was hard, to say the least.

Wanda’s eyes were unnerving, though and, as much as most nights you wouldn't mind being bent over her knee, you were certain you'd break before she even touched you. Hell, she was more than touching you and you were seconds away from being overwhelmed.

"You okay there, sugar? Sounds like someone's a little worn out.” Wanda pouted, her lips pulled down into a frown that had her words mimicking her face. Your chest heaved under her, pulling deep breaths in and forcing them out slowly. You could only hope the woman would take pity on you.

“I-I’m okay. Tired.” You whimpered as Wanda’s fingers shiftly ever so slightly, tilting your hips up in an attempt to accommodate them. The brunette dragged her thumb back over your bottom lip, resting it there as she watched your mouth stay open. You let your jaw drop just slightly. You hadn’t noticed just how tense it had been. She was eerily good at making you realize things.

"She's just too cute. But I'll let you go, toots, this car isn't going to drive itself!” Agatha’s voice had you nearly weeping in relief, more than ready for this damn phone call to be over.

Wanda cooed, propelling her thumb forward enough to push past your lips, to which you happily obliged. You were sucking before you even thought about it, whimpering as her other fingers began moving once again.

“Have a good night, Agatha. Let us know when you get home.” Wanda’s entire body seemed to soften, her eyes squinting just slightly.

She looked at you as if you were her most valuable treasure, which, in some ways, you were. She had never ceased to brag about how lucky she was to find you, no matter how much you argued it was the other way around.

“Will do, hon. Tell Y/N I’ll see her later.” You weren’t even paying attention to the conversation at this point, your vision becoming fuzzy as you blinked up at Wanda. Her fingers reached up to splay against your check, rivaling the slow thrusts into you. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hips bucking softly.

“Alright, buh-bye now.” Wanda spoke softly, a chuckle being pulled from her throat. You whined softly at the sound. She talked at you lovingly, her fingers dancing across your cheek as you continued to suck.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it, doll?” The softness of her voice continued to lull you, though your hips continued to move with her fingers.

You whimpered again, nodding at her words. She hummed under her breath as she gently took her thumb out of your mouth, instead running her fingers, sans thumb, through your hair. She merely shushed you when you whined at the loss.

“Open your eyes for me, love.” Her finger didn’t stop, a soft kiss being pressed against your forehead. She didn’t move as you began to open your eyes, her scent wafting over you. It was that earthy lavender you loved so much. She had sprayed it on your shirt that morning before leaving for “work,” knowing you’d need the support more than ever, not that she’d tell you what she had done.

"You’re so good for me, baby.” The woman’s voice deepened, a raspiness returning to it. You blinked softly at what you could see. A blush spread from your cheeks to your neck as the only thing you could see were her breasts through her negligee. You tilted your head up, attempting to seal your lips together with a whine as your hips started circling slowly.

“Mommy, please.” You whimpered against her lips, your hand she had left on the pillow snaking down to grasp onto the thin strap of her pajama top. You weren’t entirely sure what you were ever asking for. Just that you needed her. She seemed to understand, kissing back feverishly. It had your head spinning even more, gasping for breath before she was kissing your neck.

“You wanna cum, sweetheart?” Wanda murmured in your ear before pulling away, a smirk pulling across her lips once again. You nodded as fast as you could with how dazed you were. Your pointer finger slid between her shoulder and shirt strap, wanting nothing more than to pull it down and suck. The thought alone sent a thrill down your spine.

“Eyes up, sweetheart.” Wanda tsked, her tone playful as a smile spread across her lips. You weren’t worried about her catching you staring; it wouldn’t be the first or last time, and you had caught the other woman doing the same plenty of times. If anything, it was only fair you got to, too. You complied though, your mouth dropping open in a slight pant at the sight of her. As soon as your eyes met hers, her grin widened, a thrust accompanying the look.

"Now, wasn’t that nice? Agatha callin’ to check up on you, pumpkin.” The woman pursed her lips together, her tone the same sticky sweet she used to tease you. There was nothing you could do to stop the moan that had been growing during the call from coming out, tossing your head back.

Wanda began thrusting into you with earnest, pushing a third finger in while simultaneously pulling your hand off of her. A continuous moan was bubbling out of your throat, a keening tone to it. Your body rocked in time with her hand, hips tilting up to meet her thrusts.

Everything inside you felt like it was on fire; from the way your forehead was covered in sweat, to the way your stomach tightened. Both you and Wanda knew it wouldn’t take much to make you cum.

“Mommy, mommy-” You began chanting the word over and over again, a particularly hard thrust forcing you to moan through an inhale. Your knees tried to lock behind her leg, thighs squeezing around her wrist.

Normally, she’d be pulling her hand away entirely, slapping your legs and pussy before reprimanding you because ‘you know better than that.’ The thought had you immediately parting your legs, though you clenched her fingers harder.

“You’re okay, sweet pea. Come for me, darlin’ girl.” Wanda’s lips returned to your forehead, kisses pressed against the sweaty skin. Your hips spasmed erratically as you chased your high, a string of unintelligible words leaving your mouth. Her thumb drew methodical circles on your clit, and you knew you were done for. Her fingers and thumb moved even faster as you ground down, your mouth opening and closing. Your back arched, pressing your bodies together.

“Oh my, oh my-” You cut yourself off with a cry, knowing that so much as another thrust would send you tumbling over the edge. Your fingers curled into the bedspread even tighter, holding on for dear life. Wanda’s thrusts got faster, repeatedly hitting the spot that made everything in you clench around her fingers. Her thumb came down on your clit, rubbing harsh circles into it.

“Let go, sweetheart. Mommy’s got you.” Wanda cooed, her voice completely contrasting her actions. There was nothing you could do other than to let it happen, your body tensing as you did what she said. You tossed your head back, letting out a high pitched wail as your orgasm washed over you, your body arching off the bed. Wanda continued to thrust, letting you ride the high out as she helped you through it.

“Shh, that’s my good girl. Mommy’s good little girl.” Wanda spoke softly as you came down from your high, her face suddenly much closer to yours as she hovered above you. Her fingers were still inside you, albeit hardly moving as you panted, eyes shut. Your hips jerked as waves of aftershock coursed through you. Wanda only shushed you, though, gently pressing her hips down to urge you back onto the bed.

“You did so good, baby. Mommy’s precious little girl.” You whined as she pulled her fingers out of you, your walls desperately clenching against nothing. You forced a deep breath out of you as you fully relaxed against the bed, your eyes fluttering open. It took all of two seconds before Wanda was kissing you. You sloppily kissed her back, easily letting her take full control.

You lazily made out for who knows how long, Wanda forcing you to finally unwind after your day. It wasn’t long before she was urging you up though, easily maneuvering you into the bathroom, encouraging you to use it before she cleaned you up.

As much as you would’ve loved nothing more than to sleep, Wanda’s concerns about you being fully taken care of and not developing an infection far outweighed your need to sleep. Besides, it meant she’d carry you back to bed before redressing you. A win was a win.

You were nodding off as she pulled you onto her chest, nestling your head against her neck. Everything about her enveloping her had you sighing, squirming just slightly against her body. You bit your lip, sluggishly tracing your hand down her body, playing with the elastic of her shorts. “Mommy, you-”

“Sleep, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day. Little girls need their rest.” Wanda easily pulled your hand from her pelvis, instead letting it rest against the side of her chest that you weren’t lying on.

More often than not, you would’ve protested. Would’ve told her she took care of you too much and she deserved to cum too. You were too worn out though, and instead obliged, pushing your face further into her neck. She hummed softly, fingers combing through your hair as you easily drifted to sleep.

[frantic-fiction]

May I request some Jealous!Fem!Reader x Astarion? Maybe one where someone from Astarion’s past makes an appearance and while Astarion sees this woman as just a friend, reader can see the woman blatantly flirting with her vampire spawn and she doesn’t like it one bit. ESPECIALLY if Astarion’s oblivious to the woman’s advances and innocently engages (because let’s face it, our boy loves being praised & complimented 24/7). Reader decides it’s her turn to stake her claim on our little sassy vampire and remind everyone who he belongs to ;)

Yes! Yes! Thank you for the request!

Jealous

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

It was nice being back in the city. Yes, there was still the ever-looming threat of the Absolute, but most of the party was back home, and for once, it felt like, for a moment, everyone could breathe. You had a fluffy bed to sleep on instead of a lumpy bedroll. And while Gale always made whatever perversions the party scavenged taste good, the warm, hearty tavern meals you've been treated to as of late were too good to beat.

But the best part of being back was taking any moment to drag Astarion out into the city to wherever he fancies so he can explore Baldur's Gate in the daylight without the darkness of Cazador. He wanted to visit the farmers market today, so you wandered the vendors' stalls, stopping to take moments and smell flowers and sample wares.

Astarion politely conversed with a tailor about the fabric quality used for a shirt he wanted. Frankly, they had been talking longer than your attention span could handle, so when your eyes wandered to a stall full of beaded jewelry, you wasted no time giving Astarion a quick peck on the cheek and telling him where you'd be.

The pieces were beautiful and skillfully crafted—brightly colored beads and gold inlays, gems of various minerals, all catching your eyes. The older halfling woman propped highly on the stool, greets you politely, and gives little details and facts about each one you set aside for closer inspection. Maybe you should get something for Shadowheart and Karlach? Probably not Lae—

"Astarion!"

A feminine voice has you snapping your head back to your partner. A frown instantly settles over your features when you see a tall, elven woman pull Astarion's hug. Her brown hair is intricately braided into a top knot decorated in sparkly chains. Her dress hugs her curves, framing her body perfectly.

Why are they still hugging?

"Oh Gods, it's been too long. You're looking amazing." Her nasal voice filters down the markets. "How are you, love?"

Astarion finally manages to break the hug, giving the woman an automatic flirtatious smile, the tailor long forgotten. "Eleanor, I've been well. I do hope the same can be said for you."

Dropping the beads with little care, you leave the stall, ignoring the halfling. You don't like this woman. You don't like how her hand still lingers on Astarion's forearm or how she leans ever so slightly closer as if daring him to kiss her.

"I've been fine, though I'm upset you haven't visited in quite a while. It's been rather dull without you." She runs her hand up his arm.

Astarion laughs, flicking his hand in the air and clearly enjoying the woman's words. "I could only imagine, my dear. Those brutes are fowl at their best. Who wouldn't miss me."

Your jaw clenches when her obnoxious laughter rings in the air. Pushing past a family of four throwing a half-ass apology, not paying mind, too pissed off. Who does this woman think she is putting her hands on Astarion as if he's hers?

"Astarion, you always knew how to make me laugh." Elenor ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If I'm being honest, I was always jealous of the ones you took home. But now that we're here, maybe…"

Oh, hell no! You practically jump the rest of the way and run into Astarion's arm. He lets out a breathy oof, arms tightening around your waist to keep you from tumbling to the ground. Pretending you weren't aware of the woman, you capture Astarion into a chaste kiss before beaming up at him.

"I hope you found what you were looking for, my love." Your voice is sickly sweet as you trail your thumb across his cheekbone. Then you turn your head and feign innocence, looking at the elf. "Oh, I'm sorry, Star. Who is this?"

Astarion gives you a look but recovers quickly. Clearing his throat, he speaks, "Darling, this is Eleanor. She owns a tavern I frequented. One of the only decent companies I've had before we met."

Moving away from Astarion's side, you reach your hand out in greeting, giving her your name, "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of my Star,"

Eleanor looks a bit taken aback, staring blankly at the two of you, clearly not expecting this change in her plans. You're internally preening. She takes your hand in a limp shake before dropping it and stepping back. Eleanor quickly wipes her hand on her dress slyly and chuckles.

"That explains why I haven't seen you in a while."

You sneer at her, wanting nothing more than to punch her. Instead, you drop your hand onto Astarion's chest, nuzzling warmly into his side. "Yes, sorry about that. I've been a bit selfish. Sometimes it hard to get out of bed."

"Right…" Eleanor says. Astarion, I never took you as one to settle down, especially someone as… unique as them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The venom drips from your words, and Astarion has to keep you in place.

Eleanor smirks. "Oh, I meant nothing bad." The mocking tone alone reinforces that she meant this to be as insulting as possible. "I'm just stating you're rougher around the edges."

Astarion's hold on your waist tightens as you move to step forward, hand reaching for the dagger discreetly hidden against your thigh. There is no possible way this woman values Astarion in any way more than as a body to conquer. That thought alone has you practically baring your teeth.

"What the fuck does that mean!"

Astarion steps in before you can do anything extreme, "Eleanor, it was lovely seeing you again. We'll have to come and visit sometime for a drink, but I'm afraid my love and I must make our leave."

"Oh yes, of course!" Elenor says, her voice a bit too filled with fake cheer. Her smile is strained, and her eyes stare daggers into your skull. "I hope I can see you at the tavern sometime soon."

"Yes, we'll come down for a visit sometime soon. " Astarion calls over his shoulder, practically dragging you down the cobblestone. You think about ripping your arm out of his hold and turning back, but you let him pull you along with only a death glare sent toward Eleanor.

As soon as the two of you are in a secluded place, Astarion drops your hand and turns on you. "Darling, what was that?"

Picking at your nails, you shrug your shoulders. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Astarion takes your hand and, with a finger, tilts your chin to force you to meet his eyes. He has a shit-eating grin, and his fangs are even more prominent in his smile. "You were jealous."

Swatting his hands away, you step back. "I was not!" You lie and storm down the alleyway. You didn't get far before Astarion caught your wrist and spun you into his chest.

"You were jealous." He repeats. "But you really shouldn't be."

"She was all over you."

"It was a hug, my dear, from probably the closest normal friendship I had before the tadpole."

"Friendship? She was practically begging you to fuck her." You huff, fiddling with the lapels of Astarion's shirt.

Astarion chuckles deeply and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Gods, you're cute when you're jealous."

"Don't make fun of me, Astarion."

Ignoring you, he continues. "For argument's sake, if she was begging me to fuck her, as you so eloquently put it, who cares? I certainly don't, not when I have this beautiful, strong, incredibly understanding partner who knows all the darkest parts of me and still stands by my side?"

"Well, I am pretty noble for putting up with you when you're hungry." You smile, looping your arms around his neck, all jealousy draining from you like water from a colander.

"How could another soul handle me in that horrid state." Astarion runs his nose against yours. "I love you and don't plan on stopping soon."

You beam and kiss him breathlessly before mumbling, "I love you too," against his lips. "I think we should head back to our room."

Astarion chuckles under his breath, running his hands down the curve of your spine. "Oh, what for my sweet?"

"Well," Crawling your fingers up his chest, you press your lips to his ear and whisper. "If you'll let me, I want to mark every inch of your neck." "Mark me as yours, darling?" Astarion hums.

"Mhmm, we could go further, but" you continue. "Tonight, I want you to show me this tavern Eleanor owns. I think we deserve a date night."

"You are jealous."

"If I agree, will you take me out?" You lean in for a kiss.

Astarion presses forward, brushing his lips against yours. "As long as I have a necklace of your pretty love bites."

"Then yes, my love, I am very much jealous."

I've been struggling with inspiration lately. Moving was super stressful and I had to leave a hostile work environment very quickly so life's been a bit messy. But I've got my kitty cat and don't have to deal with a shitty boss so hopefully things will go up from here.

I'm kinda iffy on how I feel on this one but that might just be my current mindset. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, and stay tune because I plan on have something spicier posted soonish...possibly Astarion discovering his breeding kink 🫣❤️

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

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

[tenderleavesbob]

At first, Twilight was leery about Warriors, with his shiny armor and too confident smile. When he thought of Knights, he thought of the cowards in his era who failed to protect their kingdom. Once when he was a wolf, he made a Knight make a mess out of their armor. It was funny at the time but disturbing later when he realized that people depended on these Knights for their safety.

Twilight's wariness didn't last long. Any and all trepidation died the second Warriors saw Epona.

The confident smile vanished, as did the sharp, assessing look in his eyes, like he wasn't surrounded by fellow heroes but by possible threats. Warriors's face softened and his eyes shone, and Twilight's initial assessment of his age dropped by five years.

"She's gorgeous," Warriors breathed, stepping forward. "Is she yours?"

"Yep!" Twilight said. He preened as Warriors looked at Epona with the respect the mare deserved. He was aware that Time was watching them with a pleased smile, and at any other time, that would distract him. Later, he would dwell on it. Right then, Warriors and Epona demanded his focus. "Would you like to pet her? She's friendly."

Well, she was friendly to the right people. Five minutes ago, Twilight wouldn't have thought Warriors was one of those people.

Warriors beamed at the offer. When he wasn't busy looking like a confident asshat, Warriors actually had a friendly, nice face. Even sweet and expressive, when he relaxed enough to let it be.

Twilight thought he heard a couple of the younger heroes snickering at them, but it was hard to care as he reviewed the best places to pet and scratch Epona. Epona whinnied and Twilight thought she sounded pleased, too, as Warriors scratched behind her ear and cooed at her. She pushed into his hand, and Warriors looked so happy that Twilight had to grin and bounce on his heels.

Later, Twilight would realize that moment was when he first saw Warriors and thought brother. When the Knight facade dropped and Warriors laughed as Epona nibbled his hair. At that moment, Warriors didn't look much older than Twilight. Even with his armor, with Epona's saliva in his hair and a delighted grin on his face, Warriors didn't look that different from Twilight, either.

"Would you like to take her for a ride?" Twilight asked, surprising himself.

He couldn't regret it when Warriors turned a brilliant smile to him. "Yes!"

Later, when Warriors would put the brother aside and act too much like a Knight and Captain, or when he would grow too self-protective and cold, Twilight would remember that moment and remind himself of exactly who his brother was at his core. Sometimes it took more time and effort than others, but Twilight always managed to bring out that genuine smile again.

That initial wariness never returned. From that day forward, grinning at each other while Time looked fondly and proudly on, they were brothers.

"She's strong enough to carry both of us. Let's ride down to the stream! We can pick some apples for Champion."

"Let's go!"

[azrielwingspan]

RED SERPENT (Mob!Bucky x f!reader)

MASTERLIST

Chapter 4- Bloodhound and Loyalty

Summary: King and Queen of New York. The one who knows how to play the game, survives.

Warnings: Violence, mature content, sexual themes, foul language.

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the actions written in this story.

"Pierce." you say, tone flat.

A smirk crawls onto his face, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Who would've thought that we would meet like this?"

"Not me." you replied in the same tone, an image of punching him right in the face flashing through your mind.

"Steve , Sam.." he says nodding at the two men in front of you. They don't respond to his greeting and move an inch closer to you. This action doesn't go unnoticed by Pierce. His smirk widens as he shakes his head.

"Looks like there's some sniffing out to do. After all..." he shifts his gaze to look at your directly "loyalty is hard to find these days."

You don't let his carefully worded threat phase you. "Every dog off of the street will show you loyalty once you feed them."

Taking great pleasure in watching the smirk slowly fade from his face, you got up and walked towards Bucky leaving behind Sam and Steve to deal with Pierce. It was time to form a new plan. Pierce would hold the information he had above your head and use you like his own plaything if you didn't do something soon.

How could you have missed this though? You were absolutely certain that you had him in the palm of your hand and yet he had been fooling you and working with Bucky. How long would he take to tell Bucky that his wife was the culprit and thought she could get away with it ?

Bloody hell.

You spotted him across the room talking with Helmut, another member of the inner circle. Helmut seemed aggravated but listened to Bucky as he spoke. Impatience taking hold of you, you approached them hands behind your back.

"Helmut, a moment with my husband please." you said looking straight at Bucky, face devoid of emotion.

"Yes, maybe you can fix this." Helmut said walking away. He was the only member who was bold enough to speak against Bucky right to his face. Holding back a smile at his ballsy nature, you stepped towards Bucky.

"I'm getting tired of your antics for the night, husband."

Bucky simply took a sip from his glass of amber liquid and studied my face for a few seconds. "Follow me." Without waiting for a response, he started heading towards the entrance. You walked by his side, anger simmering beneath your skin.

Ignoring the stares directed at the both of you, Bucky closed the door to the office behind him and headed to the small dark balcony that overlooked the dance floor.

He stood near the banister, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his glass. Joining him by his side, you followed his gaze and looked down at the figures dancing beneath, unaware of the tensions running high in the room upstairs.

"This is one of the best establishments in the city." Bucky spoke not looking at you.

"I'm aware." your gaze lifted upto him, noticing the sharp line of his jaw as his head remained turned.

"Your dad is one of the sharpest minds in the business. He knew what would work and what wouldn't. He was always right. Every single time." he let out a small sigh as he turned to face you finally.

You couldn't get a read on his expression. The dim lighting made it harder to see his eyes.

"When I was younger, I'd always wondered how he'd managed to do it. I'd asked my old man multiple times. He just asked me to figure it out." he stayed silent for a few moments.

I raised my eyebrow indicating for him to go on.

A tilt of the corner of his lips before he continued. "I was too young and reckless to ever trust anyone. Placed myself on a pedestal thinking that everyone was beneath me. Learnt the hard way that loyalty had to be earned and not demanded."

Your breath caught in your throat as he brought up loyalty again. That word would be plaguing your nightmares for quite some time.

"I needed to place my trust in...certain individuals to get somewhere in this business. It helped, a lot." he paused again, searching my eyes for something. The truth, perhaps?

"Where are you going with this, James?" you ask softly knowing very well where this was headed.

"The first time someone betrayed me, I didn't know what to do. Trusting someone was new to me but so was letting them go. After 3 days of no sleep, I shot him in the head."

He looked at the gulp you had taken, his eyes trailing over your throat and slowly coming back up to meet your eyes.

"So I'll ask you this once and only once." His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he took a small step forward, his height towering over you. His cologne that had once comforted you felt like a cocoon of danger where escape was a wild dream. Head tilted down to meet your eyes, he whispered, his voice spreading goosebumps over your body.

"Why did you do it, sweetheart?"

A/N: I know this is very short but I promise the next one will be longer !!

Taglist : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @ordelixx @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @marvel-wifey-86 @tenderly-hopeful-collection

[little-diable]

Labour - Tommy Shelby

This came to me as I listened to “Labour” by Paris Paloma, and boy, do I love love love this story. Be aware that this is somewhat loosely set in S2, but it doesn’t really follow the shows plot line. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: While Tommy keeps pulling away from his wife, she gets tangled in a web of lies to protect her husband, making deals behind his back with his enemies.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unrotected piv, troubling relationship but with a happy end, mentions some fighting and misogyny

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Why are you hanging on so tight, to the rope that I'm hanging from?

“Oh (y/n), isn’t it lovely how naive you women all are?” Inspector Campbell’s voice echoed through the small side street, lips pulled into a grin that made bile rise in (y/n)‘s throat. Her eyes didn’t dare back away from the contact he held, not wanting to come off as scared. 

“I have no time for games, inspector. It’s the same deal as always, you’ll pull your men away from our area tomorrow, and you’ll get your money, easy as that.” Her fingers searched for a cigarette in the pocket of her warm coat, sighing in relief as she finally felt the familiar paper against her fingertips. He watched her light the cigarette with his sharp gaze, forcing holes into her skin like bullets made to kill. 

“Do you really think your money still satisfies me?” He took a step closer, but (y/n) didn’t move, she held her ground, blowing the smoke of her cigarette into his direction. With the click of his tongue he came to a halt like Hades himself coming to claim Persephone, forced into a bond that held more power over her than she liked. “We both know how much your husband loves you, but how will he react to your betrayal? How will he react once he hears about the deals you force his enemies into?” 

She wanted to laugh at his words, finding amusement in the way he imagined her marriage, full of love that had once been but no longer was. His cold hand found her chin, gripping it all too tightly. With a growl rumbling through her, (y/n) pulled away, throwing the burned out cigarette to the ground. 

“Your threats may work on others, but not on me, Campbell. We both know you need the money as much as a child needs its food. I have no problem with asking others who like to do business with me to take care of you and the pathetic excuse of a life you live.” He clenched his jaw, hands balled into fists as his tongue kissed his teeth. For a few seconds neither of them spoke up, letting the silence rest heavy on their shoulders. 

“Fine, we’ll keep your streets empty tomorrow, I’ll expect the money by Friday, not one day later.” The inspector turned from the now grinning woman, disappearing in the dark shadows lingering around them. Only as (y/n) knew that he no longer could see her did she wipe away her fake smirk, back clashing against the nearest wall, bracing herself. 

By now (y/n) was all too used to making deals with those that could interfere with her husband’s business, taking over the work he didn’t know about, believing that everything was simply working out in his favour. But fate hadn’t been nice with Tommy Shelby, at least not till (y/n) had stumbled into his life, slowly taking over, working in the shadows Tommy found no interest in. 

It was a dangerous game she was playing, set on giving her life for the man she loved more than any words could describe, walking closer to God than any other woman she has ever crossed paths with. 

All for a man who asked more from her than he’d ever be able to understand, drawing away from his once loving touches, fully focused on his business rather than his failing marriage.

Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring? And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting and I'm getting fucking tired

……

“Where have you been?” Tommy’s voice echoed through their dark bedroom, naked upper body bare to her now wide eyes. She hadn’t expected him to come home tonight, preferring to stay away from their quiet home that had once been filled with love. (Y/n) stood in the middle of their bedroom, shaking off her coat with a sigh rumbling through her.

“I was at Margret’s, you know how much she struggles with her new baby.” The lie rolled off her tongue all too effortlessly, even though his piercing eyes didn’t leave her features once, trying to figure out if she was speaking the truth. Slowly (y/n) laid down next to him, no longer used to feeling Tommy this close. Without anticipating his next movements, (y/n) flinched away as his hand found her chin, grasping her just like Campbell had done, digging into the forming bruises. 

“We need you here, it was your call to take over the household, this home needs its woman, just like I do.” His voice had an almost threatening touch to it, forcing a sharp inhale of cold air into her aching lungs. (Y/n)’s hands tightened their grip on the warm blanket, searching the comfort of the bed she had been sleeping in alone for weeks that have felt like years.

“What is a home with a woman without a husband to share her marriage with? Don’t you lecture me on my whereabouts when you’ve been hiding from me like a scared boy for weeks, Thomas.” (Y/n) turned from Tommy before he could reply, squeezing her eyes shut with her teeth buried in her lower lip. In these moments she desperately wanted to speak up, and wanted to lay all her deals on the oblivious husband that didn’t even notice where his money was going. And yet she kept her mouth shut. 

She felt his eyes on the back of her head for a few more moments before Tommy shuffled around in their bed, wordlessly placing his arm around her waist to draw her into his naked chest. And with a squeeze of her hand, the both of them gave into the call of darkness, searching for some much needed hours of sleep. 

And the silence haunts our bed chamber, you make me do too much labour

……

“Please sit, love. Tea?” Alfie Solomon’s voice echoed through the new apartment, leaving (y/n) smiling. She nodded her head, sinking into the comfortable chair with a sigh. “You look tired, is your husband keeping you on your toes lately?”

“I barely see him around these days, so there’s not much going on to keep me on my toes. How have you been, Alfie?” The man fumbled with his glasses, watching her as if he was expecting (y/n) to strike any moment now. 

“You see, a smart man knows to never cross a woman like you, your wicked mind will one day force us all to our knees, if it weren’t for your eyes.” She pondered over his words for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, wondering what the man was talking about.

“It’s as if God himself had spoken to me, Alfie, he’d say, she’s dangerous, worse than any enemy you’ve ever killed, but her eyes tell you all about her sadness, about the help she needs but won’t ask for.” A laugh bubbled out of (y/n), eyes fluttering close to let go of a tired sigh. Her hand found her forehead, rubbing her temples to get rid of the headache that kept tourmenting her, robbing much needed hours of sleep from her. 

“You’ve always had a talent with words, Alfie. Can’t believe the young Jewish boy I once shared my bread with is now trying to lecture me on my way of living.” Alfie’s throaty chuckles reverberated through the room, welcoming the warm memories of the moments he and (y/n) have shared all those years ago. Once they’ve been nothing more than oblivious children, searching for the comfort one another could offer. 

“Tell me, what is it this time you need? I’m meeting your husband tonight, so you better tell me now if you want me to kill him, yeah? I always told you, you should have married me, would certainly have saved you from all these struggles.” Her hand found his, squeezing the fingers she had always been reaching for, needing the man she loved like a brother close, though keeping their relationship hidden from the husband that didn’t know anything about the dark past she had been forced to live through. 

“It feels as if something is going to happen, I can’t lose him, Alfie. Who did you do business with lately?” Their eyes didn’t break contact, not as he took a sip of the hot tea, not as he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering from hers to the big windows. Rain was pouring from the dark sky, pitterpattering against the windows that gave off a view others would pay too much money for, not knowing what else to invest in. The end was near, both could feel it, even though they wouldn’t share the same end, ripped away from one another by wrongdoings that were still buried six feet under like rotten corpses. 

“The business is rough, you’ve got to survive somehow, yeah? Always remember that, love.”

……

The cold lingering in her home had something almost amusing to it, a clear reflection of her relationship with the man who had once lured her into this house, promising her a life that had been nothing more than a game, a dream so fulfilling she couldn’t help but ache for it. (Y/n)‘s feet met the ground, staring at the watch that told her there was still enough time till evening would roll upon her, wondering how the meeting between Alfie and Tommy would play out.

“(Y/n)?” Tommy’s voice left her frozen, head whipping towards her husband. 

“What are you doing at home? Two days in a row, did something happen?” With his hand stretched out for her to take, he slowly pulled her closer, gently cupping her cheek. Tommy studied her for a few moments, the confusion swimming in her gaze, the tension clinging to her body. She quietly thanked herself for covering the bruises on her chin with enough makeup to hide what had happened from the man with eyes so piercing he’d outshine the stars twinkling in the night sky. 

No words left him as he kissed her, making her gasp at the almost unfamiliar touch. Her arms found their way around his neck instantly, not daring to break the contact she had been aching for. Tommy tasted of cigarettes, of expensive alcohol, and of secrets he never intended to share with her, not knowing that she knew more about the business than he ever will. He tasted of everything he once hadn’t tasted of as their paths had crossed years ago, changing into a ruthless man that toyed with those keeping him company.

He pushed her against their dinner table, forcing her to sit on the expensive wood with her legs wrapped around his waist. Moans left the two that tugged on one another’s clothes, needing to scratch the itch that forced them to keep on moving, hands not daring to let go. She was trembling with anticipation thumping through her veins, trying to silence her thoughts, not wanting to pull away from the husband that hadn’t touched her in weeks.

“Don’t, just fuck me, please Tommy.” Her words drew his fingers away from her already soaked folds, undoing his trousers as her lips found his again. The kiss managed to distract her from the feeling of his cock nudging against her entrance, slowly sinking into her tightness. Both moaned in unison, needing to adjust to one another’s body for a moment before they could give in.

“Fuck, I almost forgot how perfect you feel.”

(Y/n) wanted to speak up, wanted to scold him for keeping his distance, but no word managed to leave her, nothing but moans filling the seconds fading by. 

His hips snapped against her middle with every rough thrust, perfectly teasing the swollen spot that made her see stars so bright (y/n) feared she’d end up blinded. The moment wasn’t sweet, wasn’t even loving, but it was everything they needed, distracting them from the racing thoughts that would eventually force their skin from their bones. 

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into his neck, keeping him close as their moans clashed against one another’s lips, wordlessly communicating their arising high. Soon they’d give in with trembling limbs, racing hearts, and swollen lips, an inferno so strong it’d burn their bodies to the ground.

“You’re mine, don’t you ever forget that.” The possessiveness dripping from his words left her aching her back, head thrown back as she fell over the edge with his name leaving her. Tommy gave it a few more ferocious thrusts before he released himself inside her, painting her walls white. His heat filled her system, clinging to her like a second layer of skin, forever remembering this very moment. 

“I have to leave for some meetings, do me a favour and stay at home tonight, eh?”

I know you're a smart man, and weaponise the false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise

……

“(Y/n)?” Arthur’s voice echoed through the home, luring her from the quiet garden back inside. The older Shelby brother studied her with an unreadable gaze for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “Tommy wants to meet you at the Garrison, I’ll drive you there.”

Wordlessly she followed Arthur outside, fetching her coat before stepping out into the brisk afternoon, wrapping the fabric tightly around her body. She didn’t dare ask any questions, not wanting to distract the man she had shared too many drunk conversations with, turning towards him whenever Tommy left her behind to mingle with those she’d meet in the dark shadows of side streets even the most ruthless gangsters would avoid. 

The houses they passed grew bigger with every street they turned into, housing families that desperately tried to overcome the ruins war had pushed them into, financial struggles that left them drowning in debts. (Y/n)‘s heart ached whenever she walked past those struggling more than her mind could even begin to imagine, living a life filled with sorrows, with fear, with anger. A life she wouldn’t ever want to live.

“Cigarette?” Arthur pushed the cigarette into her hand before he opened the car door for her, allowing her to walk into the all too familiar pub. Only as she set her foot inside did she begin to notice that the pub wasn’t filled with its usual crowd, no, but an unexpected duo was watching her every step. Her insides screamed at her to turn around, breath hitched in her chest.

“Sit.” Her husband pointed towards the chair in front of him, smoking his cigarette with an unemotional expression tugging on his features. Arthur gave her a slight push, forcing (y/n) to walk closer. Her eyes didn’t part from those she had held contact with ever since she had been a child, heart clenching in her chest as she began to realise what was about to happen. 

For a few seconds they were surrounded by nothing but silence, with four pairs of eyes watching the woman, waiting for her to speak up, to ask questions, but (y/n) knew better, keeping her mouth shut. Her eyes fluttered from Tommy to Arthur, to John, and lastly to Alfie. 

“I called Margaret this morning, tell me, (y/n), why did she tell me that she hasn’t seen you in weeks?” Tommy’s sharp voice left her tensing, tongue running along her lower lip to find the right words to speak. But she couldn’t, her throat was too tight, mouth too dry to even articulate a single word threatening to leave her pressed together lips. “You see, at first I didn’t think any of it, it’s true, I pulled away from the marriage I should have paid more attention to, but if I’d known that my own wife would betray me, I would have locked you up in our bedroom. Tell me, how deep does your betrayal run?”

A scoff left (y/n), ignoring her husband’s words as her eyes focused on Alfie. She tilted her head to the side, just like she had done the day prior, thinking through their conversation again before she finally broke the silence, “This is what you call surviving, Alfie? Going against your oldest and most trusted friend? And don’t you dare to tell me God fucking told you to go against me. What are you even getting out of this?” 

She couldn’t help but pick up on the confusion now swimming in Tommy’s pupils, gaze flickering between (y/n) and Alfie.

“It’s like I told you, yeah, surviving is always what you should focus on. Your husband here is a bit slow, but he asked questions you gave me no answer to.” Alfie kept his voice calm, keeping details from her she’d have to beg for. She had always known that he was giving into more deals than any other gangster she knew, eventually betraying those he treated like his own family. But not once had (y/n) even dared to think that he’d betray her. 

“Arthur, John, show Alfie Solomons the way out, I have some things to talk about with my wife.” Tommy’s eves didn’t leave hers, not as Alfie rose to his feet, coming to a halt next to (y/n) to try and squeeze a shoulder, a touch she flinched away from, not as Arthur and John disappeared outside with Alfie slowly following them. And once again (y/n) and Tommy were engulfed by the all too familiar silence they’ve grown to accept, but today it had an uncomfortable touch to it, making her skin crawl. 

“Solomons and who else? Who else did you do business with?” She kept quiet, squeezing her eyes shut as Tommy smashed his palm flat against the table. Anger flushed through his veins, too blind to see through the fog of confusion he was trapped in, not understanding what she had done and why she had done these deals after all. “Fucking speak to me, woman!”

“Fuck you, Thomas. Do you even understand what I did for you? I saved your life too many times to count. I managed to hold Campbell back as much as possible, I stopped Alfie from giving into deals that would have ended your life before you could even begin to understand what he was doing, even the fucking Italians. But you had to fuck this up, you had to boast your fucking ego, while you were too blind to even realise that your own fucking wife, the one you left behind like some used whore you forgot to pay, was the reason your business kept growing.” She rose to her feet, walking past Tommy to pour herself a glass of bourbon, drowning the shot in one go. Her eyes fluttered close as the alcohol burned down her throat, welcoming the distraction from the pain that forced her heart to clench. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked together.” No longer did his voice carry any anger, almost quiet as if he was whispering. Slowly she turned back towards him, keeping her distance with her back pressed against the bar. 

“Work together? You pushed me away whenever I tried to speak to you about the business. You were simply too proud to work with your wife, so I had to take matters into my own hands before your pride would kill you.” He lit a cigarette, pulling it from his lips to reach it out for her to take. It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, walking towards her husband with slow, calculated steps. His hand snapped out to grasp her wrist, pulling her into his lap before she could turn away. 

“What shall I do with you, woman?” She deeply inhaled, letting the smoke flush through her lungs, leaving deathly marks that would eventually be her death call, should the business she was now fully trapped in not catch up with her first. “You won't tell those you do business with that I know about this, perhaps we can use this to our advantage. But I need you to be honest with me from now on, are we clear?”

“Who would have thought we’d ever end up doing business with one another, mister Shelby.“ He took the cigarette from her, placing it between his lips for one last drag, watching her with curiosity filling his pupils. „I have one condition though.”

“Come home to me, Tommy, I won’t endure the silence in our home any longer.” 

[literary-motif]

Public Eye

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

You humiliate Zaros in front of a crowd.

Warnings: social anxiety, panic attacks

Zaros grew up with the knowledge that practically everybody and their dog hated him. His family was unpopular, he understood that, and despite every effort he made to make an ally of the rest of the Serulan population, somehow his unpopularity with the nobles always made him out to be the villain. 

He liked to think he was quite good at hiding how much it affected him. His mother used to tell him that he should not care about other people’s opinions and that he needed only his sense of what was right to lead him on the way of his life — but that did not mean that their words did not sting. 

You grew up in the spotlight. Your mother’s politics painted you in a favorable light to everyone — because criticism of her would be criticism of you, and truthfully she was rather well received. You could part a crowd effortlessly, getting people to avert their eyes and whisper words of awe. You never learned to care for the harsh whispers of strangers because you already had everything you wanted in life. 

You were at the top, looking down on all the common folks whose only way of feeling a part of your grandeur was by talking about you — and you never passed up a chance to remind Zaros of that. 

When you walked through the streets of Serula together, which was not an unusual occurrence now that you were preparing for the trials, he was keenly aware of the awe-struck glances you received from everyone — including the people who your mother seemingly forgot in her politics for the upper classes, including the people who he so desperately wanted to make heard — and the looks of contempt thrown his way. 

“Is that Sarl Zaros?” he heard someone whisper. “He’d do better to crawl back into whichever slump he came from. Nobody wants him and Nira here!”

The venom with which the stranger spat his mother’s name made his fists clench, but he would not have survived as long in the public’s constant sneers and insults if he had been half as hot-headed as you. Zaros took a deep breath, keeping his gaze straight ahead, and continued walking. He was too caught up in the simmering rage this injustice invoked in him to notice your triumphant grin.

You had won the public’s favor long before his mother entertained the idea of contesting the throne. 

What you did not know, and what he had tried to keep from his mother for years, was that Zaros performed utterly horrific before a crowd. The people gathered around him made his heart thunder, their disdainful glances made him want to shrink into himself and hide from the harsh judgment he knew they were casting upon him. Zaros hated crowds. He hated social interactions with people who saw him as an evil threat. 

It was only his luck that you loved to get under his skin. 

“Sarl Zaros, how convenient seeing you right now,” you greeted, fake cheer coloring your tone. The two nobles you were conversing with in the courtyard turned around to look at him, their eyes on him enough to make Zaros tense. “Why don’t you join us? We were talking about your political ideas.”

He cleared his throat, his mind racing for an excuse. “How kind of you, Earis,” he said, holding your gaze for only a moment before letting his eyes wander to the bush of roses next to you instead. “My mother is expecting me, however. Perhaps another time.”

One of the nobles snickered. “Like mother like son,” they said. Zaros vaguely recognized them as belonging to the Ponvillus family. He bit his tongue, the sneer causing anger to overshadow his anxieties. 

“Pray tell, what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, holding the noble’s gaze. 

“He talks,” you said, nudging the other noble’s shoulder. She only laughed, as if remembering a private joke between you. “Watch out. Once he starts, he won’t shut up.”

“I don’t think this conversation is fruitful at all,” Zaros said, giving you a bitter glare. “If you want to insult me, please go ahead. There is no need for me to join your circle of conversation, however. You’ve never had a problem talking ill of me behind my back, why would you need to say it to my face now?”

“How sensitive, Zaros,” you said, stepping closer to him until you were face to face. You clasped your hands behind your back, standing before him as if inspecting a very particular flower.

He did not like the triumphant smile on your face. He did not like the two nobles behind you, watching your every move, waiting for the right moment to chime in with laughter and insults directed at him. 

You always commanded a crowd so effortlessly. He was envious of your talent. It seemed like a natural byproduct of your upbringing, and his terror a natural side effect of his. 

“Sensitive?” he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on you. 

He could debate with you. He could argue with you — only you. It was so much easier to get under your skin when you two were alone — when there was no biased audience to tear him down without listening to a word he said. At least you never disregarded him, no matter how much his words annoyed you or made your blood boil — you always listened.

“Sensitive like the— the time I found you crying over your brother’s grave?” 

Your face fell. 

Perhaps that had been too much. 

The thick silence made Zaro’s breath hitch. His palms were sweaty. He felt his heartbeat picking up. This conversation had taken a horrible turn. The noble’s faces were frozen in an expression of shock and disgust. How was he supposed to rule over a kingdom if he could not even hold a discussion without crossing a line?

You clicked your tongue. “How eloquent, Zaros,” you said, a chilling coldness in your eyes that turned his mouth dry. “I find it interesting how you spit the most hurtful things in private, but you always trip over your words whenever we’re not alone. I wonder why that is?” 

He swallowed thickly, giving you a warning look. When had you caught up on this? How closely had you observed him?

“I’ll tell you why that is,” you continued, making his heart seize painfully. 

He did not dare raise his gaze to look at the nobles behind you, no doubt listening attentively to gather more fuel for the venomous image they had of him. 

“I think you know exactly how much everybody hates you. It eats away at you, knowing they will never listen to you, no matter how brilliant you think your ideas may be. They won’t care, because they can’t stand you. They look at you and see nothing but a waste of space. They wait with bated breath to find fault in everything you do. They are observing you, not because they care, but to remind themselves of why it is that they hate you so much. You are nothing!” you spat, “and if you think you will ever keep yourself on the throne, take a walk around the city and remember how much the people you want to help actually despise you!”

Zaros was frozen, looking at you with wide eyes. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

You were right, that’s what hurt so much. He knew you were right. 

Your words would have made him pause at any time. Now that you delivered them in front of an audience — and their taunting laughs registered only now that he thought of them, hearing their mocking chuckles as if from underwater — he could not help feeling utterly destroyed by them. 

He was helpless, caught like a deer in headlights. Not a single thought came to his mind in retort, he would not even find the breath to reply if he tried. 

The laughs were drowned out by the rushing of blood in his ears. He felt sick, nausea churning in his stomach at the public humiliation you had put him through — at the truth you had said aloud. He took a step back, his eyes darting across the courtyard numbly. He felt ready to collapse any minute. 

He was unsteady, the feeling of frozen shock steadily bleeding into the panic he knew so well. His mind began screaming at him to run, run, run— get away, find a private spot before he fell apart in front of the pitiless eyes of the public. 

Zaros turned away from you. He could not breathe, he could not think. There was a sinking feeling in his chest that made him hover on the line between numb shock and panic. He was holding himself together with every last shred of his iron will, but with every step that led him towards the library, he felt his throat burn more and more. His chest felt tight, and when the heavy door shut behind him — blocking out the laughs and taunts that rang in his mind regardless — he felt the scale finally tip, and he collapsed to the ground with a breathless wheeze. 

He was dying, you had finally done it. He could not breathe, and no matter how tightly he gripped the books to ground him, he could not get your words out of his head. They tore him apart over and over again, the knowledge that you had said them for all the world to hear made him want to dissolve into dust. 

He banged his head against the shelf behind him. The hurt did not even register in his panic. His cheeks were wet with tears, but Zaros did not feel them falling from his eyes. His blurry vision made him panic more. He could not see. The world around him did not feel real anymore. He was slipping through the cracks of this reality, slowly bleeding into the ground beneath him until there would be nothing left of him at all. 

At least that way he did not need to face anyone ever again. At least that way he never had to endure their taunts and disgust and hatred ever again.

A loud bang echoed through the library, making him gasp. Gods, he did not want anyone to see him. What would it matter if he was going to die anyway? 

“Zaros?” 

The thought of feeling anyone’s eyes on him made his stomach drop, a sickness running to his very core and making him retch. 

“Zaros!”

The voice sounded familiar. Through his blurry vision, he saw your approaching form. Zaros squeezed his eyes shut. He should have locked the door. Out of all the people, why did it need to be you?

“Come— come to— glo—gloate?” he stuttered breathlessly, biting out the words with as much venom he could muster. 

Why could you not leave him alone? What more did you want? Had you not humiliated him sufficiently? Did you need to twist the knife in an already fatal wound? He had never thought you to be cruel, perhaps he did not know you at all.

You dropped to your knees before him, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. Zaros flinched back, the touch burning and making him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“Breathe,” you said calmly, retreating your hand. 

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity. If he were not currently drowning in his panic, he would have shot you a glare so dark it would have haunted your nightmares. 

Breathe, you said. What did you think he was trying to do? Where were the other nobles? Were they lingering in the doorway, mocking him quietly? Did you follow him here to gather more ammunition to use against him later? 

‘Sarl Zaros?’ you would say with a mocking smirk, giving him a dark glance, ‘He can’t rule a kingdom, he can’t even face a crowd! Zaros? Do you mean the pathetic mess I found hyperventilating in the library? He would break in a single council meeting!’

“We’re alone,” you said, shifting to sit next to him instead. You did not try to reach out again. “I took the different entrance, they don’t know I’m here. Can you try to take a deep breath?”

He shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest. He buried his hands in his hair, tugging at the blonde strands. This was all too much. He was slipping, freefalling into nothingness. “Can’t— can’t—” he panted. He could not calm down enough to breathe the air he so desperately craved.

“You know,” you began, keeping your voice calm, “back when I was younger, I thought the palace was haunted. There was a time when I did not dare to walk the halls at night, because I was afraid that the spirit of my brother would appear before me, and somehow blame me for being dead. I know it had nothing to do with me, but it always felt wrong to be alive when he wasn’t. Even now, I feel I am trying to take what is rightfully his. I used to attribute every little thing to his presence, the rustling of the curtains at night when there was no wind, the weird scratching I heard on my door at night, and the steady footsteps on the stone floor of the halls. 

“It was ridiculous, of course,” you said with a shrug, “but I always thought he was there. One day, when I could no longer take it, I went to his grave. I told him to leave me alone, that I was sorry he was dead but that I could do nothing to bring him back and that the injustice he felt was justified, but that I was innocent of fate’s doing. 

“My mother heard me, and she sat me down and told me that it was not him being envious of my life, but rather watching over me, making his presence known despite no longer being amongst us. I found the sentiment hard to understand at first, but then I thought of it less as a haunting, it was him checking in on me from time to time. It was just an unusual way of doing so.”

You glanced at Zaros. His breathing was still elevated, but it had evened out considerably. Your distraction had worked. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he told you, leaning his head against the bookshelf and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I— I don’t know why I said it. I suppose I was panicking. I wanted to lash out before you did. I know how much he means to you.”

“I know,” you said, catching his gaze and giving him a comforting smile. “I’m sorry as well. I was not anticipating this. I knew you struggled with publicity, but I never thought it was this extreme.”

Zaros hummed, closing his eyes. He was exhausted. The sun had already set, and the library was only illuminated by the glowing torchlight streaming through the large windows. 

“Can you make it to your chambers by yourself, or would you like my help?” you asked, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge to keep him awake. “You know I don’t mind.”

“Fine,” he replied, begrudgingly blinking his eyes open again, “and thank you.”

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

— The Archer | R. Targaryen *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Comfort

▹ Words: ~3.7k

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

▹ Note: Your Honor, I'm gay.

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

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

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

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

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

She wouldn't even meet your gaze anymore. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait." 

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

"Come here."

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

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

But now she would become a stranger again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stay with me." 

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

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

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

"Have a drink with me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you." 

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

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

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

Rhaenyra was everything you wanted. 

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

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

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

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

"I do not deserve you." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps we start with you kissing me again." 

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

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Cassian x f!reader

AN: Sorry this took so long! I was working on other writing projects, and this was put to the back burner, but i hope you still enjoy it!

Also, if you like this, i am writing an OC/Helion/Azriel story over on Ao3 called A Court of Myth and Rain :) Go check it out!

Summary: The fall out from dinner

Warning: talk of illness and death

Word count: 1336

“What the hell was that?” Cassian hissed at Mor while she pretended not to see him and continued idly drinking from her glass of wine; as if she hadn't just pulled a truth from you that had shaken him to his core.

“Y/N is in the garden with Elaine and Feyre is putting Nyx to bed,” Rhysand slipped his hands into his pockets as he entered his office where Cassian had all but dragged Mor after she released you from her power. It had terrified him to realize what she was doing to you. How even after he'd told her to stay out of it, she'd still taken it upon herself to force you to tell everyone things you clearly weren't ready to talk about. Even more than that, it absolutely broke him how you simply shut down once she let you go. How your eyes went vacant and your face remained blank. Every tear that slid down your cheek was like a knife to his gut, and he planned to make the female in front of him answer for everyone.

“I did you a favor,” Mor kept her face impassive as she finished her glass. “Now you know what she was hiding. You said it was bothering you.”

“I said she wasn't a problem,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you to leave it alone.”

“You said there was something off about her,” she pointed out with an arched brow. “I've never known your instincts to be wrong, so I decided to get to the bottom of it.”

“The problem Mor,” Rhysand stepped in as Cassian released a growl of frustration, “is that Y/N is not a threat, she never has been and your use of your power to force her to reveal her private information is more than just a betrayal of Helion as our ally. You violated her.”

“I protected this family,” she seethed at him, “Something you seem incapable of doing lately. I will not apologize for making sure she wasn't going to slit Cassian's throat in his sleep. Or destroy the library with all the Priestesses still in it. You just let her into our home, Rhysand. A stranger who could destroy everything-”

“This is about Keir?” Cassian demanded, cutting her off. “Seriously, Mor? You did that to an innocent female because Rhys made a deal with your father?”

“He has nothing to do with it,” she growled as the glass in her hand shattered to pieces.

“Regardless,” Rhysand's lips were a tight line as he looked at his cousin. “Y/N has been a trusted advisor for Helion and his father before him for more than three hundred years. I've been aware of her existence since before Under the Mountain, even though I'd never met her before a few weeks ago.”

That made Mor pause, her eyes softening just a touch, “You have?”

“I have,” he confirmed, his voice hard and expression tense. He simultaneously looked guilty that Mor was still so angry at him and equally furious that she used her gifts on you. Forced you to tell a truth you did not want to share. Not yet.

Mor's frown shifted into a look of regret, “I didn't know.”

“No, you didn't,” Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Where do we go from here?”

“I have to talk to Y/N,” Cassian crossed his arms over his chest. His wings tucked in tight as he looked at his High Lord.

Rhys nodded, “Make sure she's okay and if she's not,” violet eyes flicked towards Morrigan and back again “get her whatever she needs.”

“Handle this, Rhys,” Cassian's tone was low, a warning.

“Take care of her, Cassian.” There was no warmth in his brother's voice. The voice of the High Lord.

Without another word, the Illyrian turned and left the room. The moment he was alone in the too quiet hall, he felt the world slip out from under him. She was sick. Y/N was sick. And she didn't know if it was worth it to try and fight her disease or if she should just let it kill her. He didn't know how to process it. How to comprehend it. The fae did not get sick like humans did. Succumbing to seasonal viruses or a chill that sets into their bones. Fae illnesses were lethal, nearly every time.

Y/N was sick. It was nearly a guarantee that she would die, and Cassian could do nothing to stop it - to save her.

He didn't know why the news gutted him as it did. He didn't know why he felt like he was falling without beginning or end and that cruel darkness was swallowing him whole. He didn't know when this mystery female made of sunbeams and a gentle breeze had become whatever she was to him. He didn't know when she had shifted from a mere curiosity to something integral.

Elaine appeared before him. Brown gold curls and fawn colored eyes filled his vision as she placed a soft hand on his cheek and wiped away a stray tear that had trickled down his face.

“Pull yourself together,” she ordered, her voice sounding nothing like the gentle female he’d come to know. It was enough to startle him from the spiral his thoughts had taken him in. He blinked at her, and she held his gaze. “She has enough to deal with. Don't make your emotions her problem.”

Cassian nodded, and she dropped her hand as he wiped his eyes clear of tears. Once he'd regained his composure, he looked to the middle Archeron sister who studied him closely before seeming satisfied. She handed him a hot mug of tea and gestured towards the doors that led to the garden still blooming thanks to her careful dedication.

Taking one more calming breath, Cassian pushed open the doors to where you were sitting in a lowback chair. Your eyes were wide and clear as you watched the stars twinkle. Your hands were clasped together in your lap, and your head was tipped back as the lights seemed to dance and shine for you even as you sat so still below them. Your skin glowed faintly in the dark, a flicker of gold that had the flowers around you leaning in as if to drink in the daylight you brought with you wherever you went.

Cassian went still to see you there. An angel with broken wings. Fallen star longing for home.

“Are you going to stand there, General, or are you going to join me?” Your voice was low and breathy, as if you were exasperated by him, and he felt something sink in his chest.

“I brought you tea,” he answered you slowly as he set the mug in your hands and sat down in the seat beside you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Your voice was still as brittle and broken as it had been when Mor had pulled the truth from you against your will. You didn't blame the female. You understood why she did it. If someone was a threat to the people you loved, you would burn the world down before you let a hair on their head be harmed. That didn't mean you were okay with it. You felt betrayed and violated, and it would be a long time before you could face the female that had done this to you.

“Y/N…” Cassian started but trailed off as his gaze met yours. His eyes were so sad, so unsure as he tipped his head to the side and searched for something to say. Anything to fill the silence.

You sighed deeply and turned back towards the sky. “Look at the stars, General.” You let the ghost of a smile pull at the corners of your lips as you spoke, “Look how they shine.”

Cassian obeyed. Turning his head to the night sky that enveloped you, he looked up, and together, you watched the stars shine.

Part 8

[criminally-chill]

Shadows unveiled

Emily Prentiss x army! OC

This is my first fanfiction so please be nice

———————————

The BAU team was deep into the final stages of tracking down their unsub, a former special forces soldier turned serial killer with ties to international crime syndicates. His movements were precise, his attacks calculated, and the case had taken the team into murky international waters. They needed help—someone who understood how this man operated.

That’s why Emily had called Alex Miller, her wife, to assist. Normally, Alex worked in black ops, still active and often vanishing into missions that took her all over the world. But when Emily had reached out, knowing they were at a dead end, Alex had dropped everything to help. Though their relationship was a secret, their work together had always been seamless, even when no one else knew.

Introduced to the team as a covert operations specialist, Alex had already spent a day helping them narrow down the unsub’s location. Now, the team was ready to move in. For once, Alex wouldn’t just be advising from the sidelines. This time, she was going into the field with them—a rare chance for Emily and Alex to work side by side.

Emily couldn’t help but steal glances at Alex as they loaded up in the SUVs, heading out toward an abandoned military facility where they believed the unsub was holed up. Alex was dressed for combat—black tactical gear that blended perfectly with the rest of the team, her movements so smooth that even her prosthetic leg, the result of a past mission, was hardly noticeable. It was moments like these that Emily was reminded of just how skilled and deadly her wife was, though she also knew the softer side—the side that no one else got to see.

The team moved silently through the facility, their weapons drawn, the tension thick in the air. Alex was up front, alongside Rossi, Reid, and Emily. Despite the weight of the case, there was a strange comfort in having Alex by her side. It wasn’t often they got to work together like this, and Emily could feel her heartbeat steadying in sync with Alex’s presence.

"Got eyes on the target," Alex whispered into her comms, peering around a corner and spotting the unsub just ahead. "He’s armed—military-grade weapons."

Rossi nodded, signaling for the team to spread out and take their positions. As the team began to close in, Alex glanced briefly at Emily, their eyes locking for a split second. It was a silent communication they had perfected over the years. They didn’t need words to understand each other, even in the middle of a takedown.

Alex took point, leading the charge into the room. The unsub, clearly aware that he was being surrounded, turned on them, raising his weapon. Shots rang out, and the team scattered behind cover. Emily’s heart lurched as she watched Alex, her movements precise as she returned fire, keeping the unsub pinned down.

"Stay low!" Alex shouted to the rest of the team as they advanced, using her training to outmaneuver the unsub. Emily and JJ moved in from the left while Rossi and Reid flanked from the right.

Alex was the first to engage the unsub directly, disarming him with a fluid motion that spoke to years of black ops experience. He swung at her wildly, but she blocked his attack with her prosthetic leg, using it to her advantage. She twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a strength that seemed almost effortless.

“Stay down!” she ordered, pressing him to the floor as the rest of the team moved in to cuff him.

Emily couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride watching Alex handle the situation so flawlessly. Her heart was still pounding from the intensity of the takedown, but she knew it would’ve gone far worse if Alex hadn’t been there. The unsub was dangerous, highly trained, and yet Alex had made it look easy.

Once the unsub was secured, the team took a collective breath. The tension in the air started to ease as they realized the threat was neutralized.

“Nice work, Miller,” Rossi said, giving Alex a nod of approval. “You’ve got some serious skills.”

Alex smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” JJ added, half-joking as she secured the suspect.

Alex glanced over at Emily, and though their gazes only held for a moment, the unspoken bond between them was clear. Emily felt the familiar tug in her chest, the knowledge that this incredible woman was hers—and that, for once, they’d be going home together at the end of it all.

Back at the BAU office, the team wrapped up their reports while the unsub was processed for interrogation. Everyone was exhausted, but the sense of accomplishment hung in the air. Emily leaned back in her chair, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline start to fade.

Alex appeared at the doorway of her office, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame, her tactical gear now slightly scuffed from the takedown. “Ready to head out?” she asked, her voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear.

Emily glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention, then stood and walked over to her wife. “Absolutely. I’ve been ready for days.”

Alex smiled softly. “Then let’s get out of here.”

As they headed for the exit, they ran into the team in the bullpen, who were making last-minute plans to grab drinks at their usual bar.

“Hey, you guys coming?” JJ asked, throwing a look between Emily and Alex.

“Not tonight,” Emily said, shaking her head with a small smile. “I think I’m going to head home.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, but her smile widened. “Alright. Don’t be stranger Alex”

As Emily and Alex made their way out of the building, Emily couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time. Alex wasn’t disappearing into the night, off to some unknown mission. This time, they were heading home together.

The drive back to their apartment was quiet, the tension from the day slowly unraveling. They didn’t need to fill the silence with words—just being together was enough. When they finally stepped inside their apartment, it felt like the weight of the world lifted off their shoulders.

Alex dropped her keys on the counter and turned to Emily, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We did good today,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Emily’s forehead.

Emily melted into her touch. “Yeah, we did. But I’m really glad you’re staying home this time.”

Alex smiled, her fingers brushing through Emily’s hair. “I’m home more than you think. I might vanish for missions, but you’re still my home.”

Emily sighed, resting her head against Alex’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

They settled into the couch, Alex’s arm wrapped around Emily as they relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. The adrenaline from the takedown was finally gone, replaced by a calm sense of contentment. For the first time in a while, they didn’t have to worry about what tomorrow might bring. Alex wasn’t vanishing into another mission, and Emily wasn’t drowning in another case.

They had each other. And for tonight, that was all that mattered.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Pre-Lucemond or not, where Viserys still have ears)

Viserys have ears, and though rotted, almost falling in the way they hang, his ears work well and he has put them to good use. Ever since the incident in Driftmark, he has noticed things. The way his sons called his grandchildren bastards without fear, noticing his wife trying to get him to change the subject, noticing how pained his daughter was, and saw as his queen was willing to carve out his grandson's eye. Ever since his daughter decided that Dragonstone would be a safer place than their home in King's Landing, he decided to sit back, and truly listen to the people around him.

Whether they were speaking to him or not, or whether they think he could or couldn't hear their words, he listens to them all. He listens to the council members often led by Otto, slyly or outrightly urging him to make Aegon heir. He listens to the servants, who thinks he cannot hear their words, believing he was still asleep, or too far to hear them, whispering about Aegon's drunken antics and Alicent's visits to certain servants working close to Aegon. He listens to how his wife bemoans how Rhaenyra would leave him alone in his time of need, while never really talking of ways to get her to return home. He listens to how nobles spoke about her daughter and her children, how some would hesitate when they call her children Velaryons.

The more he listens, the more aware he became, and the clearer he began to see the world he was in, moreso than he had all these years.

He noticed his once Valyrian home turning into one akin to a Sept, so much so that no one can call his home the Red Keep anymore. He watched as his tapestries of dragons and ancestors turn to symbols of the Seven. He noticed how he was sometimes not even aware that a Council meeting has been summoned, his wife and Hand taking charge with the claim that he ordered the meeting to take place, but was tired to attend.

He is worried now. He is becoming increasingly paranoid with the things he hears, the things he sees. He sends letter after letter, urging her to return home. She does not listen. He doesn't tell her what was happening to their home, thinking that they might be reading the letters he tries to send before deciding to send it or not.

When he heard that Vaemond wished to claim the throne of Driftmark, he secretly thanked him, for he knows his daughter will return, a threat to her son's claim is a threat to her and her whole family, and she would guard them fiercely.

With great difficulty, he walked to his throne room, seeing Otto sitting on it. Years ago, it would not have mattered to him, but now, his eyes are open, and the thought of Otto sitting on his chair made him grimace. It took him rotting away day by day, an eye no longer working, for him to see what was right in front of him from the start.

When he sat on the throne, he sees the great divide. His daughter and her family, and his second wife, his father and their children. It was time. It had been time years ago.

He first settles Vaemond's argument, and it ends with his death by Daemon's hand. Again, he grimaced. Many thinks it is from pain, but it is from the fact he couldn't give his daughter a better time to announce her being queen. He knows he might die any moment now, and he will worry about certain things later on. As of now, he gathers what little strength he has to silence the crowd.

He called for his daughter. He made her climb the steps of the throne, as she had done as a child long ago. With each step she took, his strength grew, his image of her, young and childish, slowly turned into what she is now, an adult, a woman grown. He told her to look around, and in front of everyone, he spoke to her, loud enough that all may hear.

"Look at this crowd. Look at these people. This will be the sight that greets you every time you sit on this throne."

The crowds, which whispered in fear at the sudden death of Vaemond, all stayed quiet at those words.

Otto tries to speak, but Viserys raised his hand to silence him. He now addresses the crowd gathered below, the ones who came to witness a claimant trial, now watching as the old king spoke to them for the last time.

"I am old. I lose consciousness at times. My body is not what it used to be, and I know that I can no longer lead you as a true king should."

"My king-" Alicent tried to interject. She sees it, she knows what is to happen. The rest of the crowd does too. They held their breath as Viserys raised her hand to silence her again.

"Right here, while my mind isn't addled with milk of poppy and my words are heard, I tell you this. I, your king, have decided to abdicate my throne, and pass it on to my only heir, my daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen." He turned to her. "Do you accept your duty? Do you accept the weight of the crown on your head and the weight of Westeros on your shoulders?"

Shouts are heard, whispers intensifies, but Viserys remain deaf to them, his eyes solely on Rhaenyra. At a moment, she looked scared, shocked. But then her faced morphed, calmer, much more confident and ready than the scared little girl that she was when he visited her earlier.

"I accept it." She spoke.

"My king!" Alicent sounded much more panicked now, and her father was asking him to stop and talk to the council first. He ignores them again.

"Then, it is settled. You, my daughter, my heir, will be crowned tomorrow at dawn."

He looked at Daemon, who, for the first time in his life, looked surprised. He smiled inwardly. This was the first time he has ever surprised Daemon.

He stood, and held out his hand. His daughter took it, and helped him walk out of the throne room, away from the crowds. For the first time in his life, the weight of the crown, the weight on his shoulders was gone.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(10)

You knew?

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n is left alone to be confronted with her greatest fear.

word count - 1.7k

warnings - attempted SA, attempted r*pe, offensive language, tears, major angst.

a/n - this is a very important and angsty chapter.

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

“You’re in a dream, honey.”

Once the words had been whispered there was no way I could take them back. Each syllable had put a target on our backs and as I saw the realisation alight in Robert’s eyes, we simultaneously felt constricting gazes begin to penetrate the three of us.

I took deep breaths, refusing the desire to turn around to meet their eyes. My hand had remained on the back of Roberts neck. It had started as a sign of comfort but as my nails gripped tighter it became a warning. ‘Don’t look at them. Look at me.’.

“Darling,” My dads voice broke through my façade and pierced a vein which released all new gushes of anxiety. “Go. Take some off our tail. Give us two minutes.” I understood my fathers request and it’s logic was sound but still I could not move. My feet were planted next to Robert’s and that’s where I needed to be. I feared for his safety more than mine. I had been under attack more times than years I’ve lived. But he had no experience of combat and his danger could mean a one way ticket down to limbo. I stroked my fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck. This gesture was caught in my dads steely gaze and his demeanour became stern. “Now!” Upon daring to look up at him I found no room for argument.

I reluctantly left the warmth of his body to stand. I fixed my dress as if it would right everything else. I swiftly turned on my heel to leave the bar. The purposefulness of my walk was bound to attract others, as I had left my subtlety in favour for a bright red danger sign. My heels clicked down the hallway and I picked up on several presences beginning to manoeuvre in my general direction. None explicitly heading my way except one pair of footsteps which I could feel breathing on the back of my heels.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Arthur’s pov*

I walked beside Ariadne ready to assemble the team for the next layer. My eyes darted around on the watch for behaviour that would cause suspicion or warrant action. I also looked for Y/n.

We had reached the elevator and were waiting for it to arrive. But when I looked to my left I spotted Y/n. She was walking towards us in a manner of confidence. She didn’t blend in. She stood out. All eyes flocked to her unusual presence as she strutted down the hallway with an apparent presupposed destination.

The mark had been made aware of the dream; the projections were alert. This was not the time for anyone to be walking alone. Even Saito was with Eames. I had Ariadne. Cobb swore he’d stick with Y/n. So why did she leave? Unless she didn’t of her own volition.

I assessed her situation, analysing every eye that was solely fixed upon her. She was heading into the bathroom which seemed an unusual move. The soles of her feet picked up quicker and it seemed adrenaline spiked her blood to speed her forward in a speed out of the norm. Her body seemed desperate to remove itself from an unknown threat. I couldn’t discern the logic of any of her actions until she turned the corner to open the door.

My fist clenched but before I could move I was dragged into the now waiting elevator by a bustle of people wanting in. I loudly cursed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

The heavy door pushed back against my bones, but I was forceful and nearly threw my whole body against it. I practically collapsed inside the room, stumbling in my heels which burned. My breathing quickened and I had to grip the edge of a sink to ground myself once again. There was no time. There was no time. But Dad needed time. Robert needed time. I could give them time.

My heart jumped through my bones as the familiar creak of the door sounded once again. I refused to meet his gaze in an admittance of surrender. His steps got louder until he’d gripped my arm to throw me around to face him. He slammed his pelvis into my own making my back crash into the sinks edge. I cried out feeling the burn through my muscles. My legs begged to give out but they only managed to slide around on the tiles as he gripped my other arm.

“Who do we have here, ey?” His words poured out of his mouth like slime. A build-up of saliva decorated his teeth like tinsel and formed fangs when he separated his gums. I winced in disgust as he leaned down closer to my body. He found purchase in my neck and inhaled deeply. My arms struggled fruitlessly knowing no amount of strength would ever be enough for me now. A tear dripped down my cheek over my expressionless face. It was the only way I knew.

“Not a talker.” He spat out both literally and figuratively. “Don’t matter.” He pulled me up using my elbows as handles. As limp as a ragdoll meant it was easy for him to throw me against one of the closed toilet doors. “I have a much better use for that mouth of yours.” His grin consumed his entire face.

At the throw my head thwacked back with the reverberated force and for a moment I prayed that I would not have to be awake for what was to come. But the darkness never came, and it never would. There was no way out.

I felt his grimy fingers grip my shoulders in a pushing motion. Staging my limp frame in a kneeling position. My eyes burned with tears through their tight close. He used his fingers to stretch out my cheeks, taunting me of what was about to happen. My skin ached at the movement. His thumb entered my mouth and danced across my rows of teeth. I gagged at the intrusion. “Now, now. No biting.” I resigned myself with one last influx of tears until my ducts had dried fully.

The sound of a ripping door startled the man and he barely had chance to look for the intruders before he was punched square in the eyes. He toppled down next to me and I flinched away before any of him could touch me anymore. My tears blurred my saviour but I pushed them away and I managed to catch a glimpse of Robert standing over me with a hand reached out. I fearfully took his hand and my shaking seemed to stop once we were linked. He helped me up and checked me over. He was careful with his hand placements fearing a reaction to any sudden movement. My body unconcsciously leaning towards his in search of comfort was all the confirmation he needed to wrap me up in his arms. My head relaxed onto his chest but my arms remained tightly held to my chest looking as if rigor mortis had set in. He tucked his chin on the top of my head and delivered a light kiss. No words were spoke about it. He stroked through my locks and the consistent feeling slowed my racing heart.

Through all of this, my dad was searching my attacker for weapons.

“Your daughter was just – what the fuck was that?” Robert shouted through his breathy confusion. But his arms never left my frail frame.

Without looking up from the body, my father answered. “Projections usually react to attack whatever subject is put in front of them,” He gestured up to myself and Robert looked at me and his gaze held pure anger. “Projections are actually one of the weakest parts of the dream and can only focus on one threat at a time…”

“You knew?” I whispered, raising my head from Roberts embrace. “You fucking knew.” Rage began to build up in my veins and I separated so I could stalk towards his uncaring stance.

He still would not look me in the eyes. “Did you know?” I shoved his shoulder. “Look at me. Did you fucking know?” I used both hands to childishly bang on his back in a tantrum. “LOOK AT ME!”

He spun around to meet me. He raised so he towered over me. I shrunk in this unfamiliar gaze. “Yes.” My lip shook when the tears fought to climb out once more. I’d never cried more in this short amount of time than in my whole life.

“All this time?”

His gaze seemed to soften before his next phrase. “Every single one.”

I tightened my eyes to will myself to fight on. Once they reopened, they had steeled. “And you still ordered me to go.” I scoffed at his unapologetic confidence in the face of this confession.

“You knew what projections do. And yet you still sent me away.” The lump in my throat meant the words didn’t come out easily but I fought on. “No actually.” I searched through his face which screamed of guilt. “You hoped it would happen. Well, projections can only focus on one thing at a time. Right?” He couldn’t give me a confirmation but worse, he couldn’t deny. He passed by my body which I could no longer will to move. My eyes held nothing, and the only sign of life were my quick shallow breaths and the final tear that fell.

“Mr Fischer,” Robert’s eyes remained fixed on my back even as Cobb spoke at him. He was confused by the conversation which had just transpired between father and daughter but he was sure of his deep desire to comfort the girl. I felt his eyes on me but I couldn’t let him see me like this. He didn’t deserve to be sucked into the crazy knots which were my life. I could hear my dad speak, asking Robert for a number. But nothing registered. As if they were merely acting out on a screen which I had a viewing for.

I sucked back and planted a faux smile over my dried tear tracks. I spun back around the armour of character concealing any open wounds.

“I guess we should start with room 528 and room 491.” My confidence seeped through and left my body.

Robert’s brows furrowed at my sudden demeanour change. But they more so held concern and disbelief at the appearance of contentment I was portraying.

We left the bathroom, led by my father. I felt a hand ghost against my lower back. I almost succumbed to the show of genuine comfort. But it only confirmed the worries in my heart. I stilled myself to force the decision I didn’t want to make.

After this, I will never see Robert Fischer again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Omgggg Cobb always knew??? What did you guys think of the new chapter??

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog

[thecryptidzenith]

I wish you would write a fic where... Kalina manages to deflect Pok and keep him alive as a tool instead of having him killed

The way this premise is worded puts Kalina in the position of power, but I love it when Pok's a cheeky bastard so...

~

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you're getting stood up, hon."

Pok hummed, non-committal, as the waitress refilled his water for the third time, "No, I got here early. Earlier than I should have, probably."

Their meeting was meant to be at 5:15, a reasonable enough time for dinner on a weeknight, but definitely early. Early enough that Pok would have enough time to catch the train to Elmville and see Riz before he went to sleep for the night. Or more accurately, before he went to bed for the night. Sklonda had told him about their son's attempts to stay up as late as possible, just in case tonight was when Daddy came home, just in case he'd come walking through the door in the next minute or hour, and how could he sleep knowing that?

She'd said it wryly, like it was a joke, but he was well-aware of the admonishment in it. Riz wouldn't feel the need to become an insomniac if he was home more. If every second with Daddy wasn't precious enough to be worth losing hours of sleep over.

But that wasn't why Kalina wanted this meeting early. She wanted as few witnesses as possible, he knew that. And it worked for him, so he acquiesced. The interplay of compromises and negotiations was second nature to him at this point. He refused to have this conversation in private, and she didn't want to go somewhere busy. He arrived ten minutes early so she would see him waiting on her, and eight minutes after their agreed upon time, he expected she'd be here ten minutes late to signal that she had better things to do.

"She'll be here," he promised the waitress, in a manner that he was sure sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it.

She sighed, "That's what they all say," and walked away.

Pok took a sip of his water and looked around the restaurant--yet another compromise. Time wasn't the only factor in how busy a place was. He recounted the twenty-three patrons clustered around lacquered wood tables and squished into sticky red booths. Servers with branded aprons over their normal clothes came out every once and a while. He'd been occupying himself with trying to draw the exact boundaries of their sections, and he couldn't tell where along the wall of booths one ended and another began. Maybe the edge of one of the photos on the wall served as the border, but none of them seemed to line up cleanly with the booths.

Nine minutes after she should have been there--either she was relaxed and sloppy tonight or her imprecision disguised deliberate calculation--Kalina walked through the door. Her dress was Solesian, nice, but not overly so. A satiny grey, flowing top with crisscrossing straps. Perfect for a Solesian summer and decently formal, though the black jeans made the outfit more casual. Dying sunlight glinted off her silver arm cuffs, blindingly bright on a usually dark figure. Her eyes seemed to meet Pok's the second she walked through the door. She ignored the employee up front who in turn ignored her as she walked straight up to his table and sat down.

"Pok."

"Kalina."

"It's good to see you."

"Likewise."

A beat.

He hadn't told her why he wanted to meet like this. He hadn't told her why he had wanted to meet at all. But Kalina spoke a second before he did.

"How's the family?"

Standard small talk or an implicit threat? His response was the same either way, "Good. Sklonda just wrapped up a pretty big case, and Riz has been enjoying the summer. Lot of time at the pool, he's a pretty good swimmer."

Kalina smirked, "Good enough to swim across the moat into Fort Quintana?"

Despite himself, he smiled back, "I can't believe you're still bringing that up, it's been... heavens, thirteen years?"

"Fourteen."

"Goodness." It felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes," she confirmed cautiously, "it has."

"We've known each other for a long time. And over that time, we've done a lot of stuff together. We've been a good team. I've trusted you with my life more times than I can count, and you've always delivered. At the end of the day, this is business. But it has never been just business. I think--I hope--that we've built up enough of a rapport over the years that this can stay civil. I just want what's best for you, for both of us."

Kalina grinned, disarmingly sarcastic and pithy in face of his sincerity, "Pok Gukgak, are you breaking up with me?"

"'I remember when a river ran through here,'" he quoted, "do you remember saying that?"

"I say a lot of things, Pok, I can't be fucked to remember them all."

"I do. You said that you remembered when a river ran through somewhere, a change that occurs on a geologic time scale. I've known you for seventeen years and you haven't aged a day. You can't interact with certain objects, you never eat, and you travel too quickly."

"It's rude to comment on a lady's age."

"Kalina," he chided, "I already know enough to get you removed from the Third Ring. It's in an encrypted email, scheduled to send some time tomorrow if I don't cancel it. But those files don't actually tell me who you are. Or what you are. As a colleague, as someone I respect, and even as someone I consider a friend, I thought I owed you the opportunity to explain. And as an agent of the Solesian Secret Service, I thought I'd be prudent to give you the opportunity to come over to our side."

If he could convince Kalina accept Solesian amnesty, it'd be a game changer for his position in the Service. He didn't want to blackmail her into it--the email was just insurance that she wouldn't murder him right then and there--but if he could convince her to work for their side...

It'd be enough for a promotion. Or at least a change in departments. He was thirty-eight years old and not getting any younger. It was only a matter of time before he finally got sent on a mission he wouldn't come back from. He'd been in the fucking Service since he was twenty-one. He'd done unspeakable things for them, climbed the ladder with bloody claws, and he'd made it farther than he ever thought he would.

But it still wasn't far enough. He was still one stray shot away from everything crumbling to pieces.

Bringing Kalina over to their side would force his superiors to take him out of field work. It had to, she was a legendary asset. He'd get a promotion and a pay raise, probably becoming a handler, hell, he'd probably be Kalina's handler. He'd have the opportunity to train and advise younger agents and work with already competent ones. He'd have more time at home and more importantly, he wouldn't have to worry every time he left for a mission if this was the last time he'd ever see Sklonda and Riz again.

That was the dream, anyway. He'd settle for not dying today.

"Are you trying to blackmail me into flipping, Gukgak?"

"No, the email is just to make sure you don't kill me right now." So was the restaurant and the twenty-three patrons inside. "I'm not interested in blackmailing you."

"Then what are you interested in?" she asked--demanded, really--finally serious.

"The truth."

She searched his expression.

"I mean it. I'm going to find it eventually, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"You wouldn't find it. I've made sure of it."

He cocked his eyebrow, "And you've never made a mistake?"

Kalina glowered. There was a long pause before either of them said anything else. Pok watched her analyze him, weighing her options and his character. He didn't try to appear as anything other than he was: an honest and concerned friend.

"Have you tried this trick on Riz yet?" she asked, "'Cause I guarantee that kid would fold like a collapsible chair if you tried this on him."

He shrugged, letting her have her flippancy, "Haven't needed to yet."

"Just wait," she said ominously.

Pok hummed and didn't deign that with a response, forcing Kalina to focus on the matter at hand.

"Fuck it," she declared out of the blue, "You want to know what I am?"

"I do."

"Okay."

She told him.

~

There's definitely more here and I might put an extended version of this on AO3 at some point, (if I do that, it'll probably be Pok/Sklonda/Kalina, because. i want to.) but obviously I love this premise. My version is less 'Pok ends up as Kalina's tool' (though she certainly does manipulate him) and more 'in which the Gukgak parents have moralities befitting a cop and a Fantasy CIA agent,' which is a concept I've been playing around with for a while because I Think It's Neat.