#only thing i ask if you read through this is to pray for my father

[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"

[snoopyracing]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER // CL16 *SNEAK PEAK*

pairing: charles leclerc X reader

summary: follows charles and childhood bestfriend!reader through their lives. kind of based off of birds of a feather by billie eilish.

a/n: here's a sneak peak from my upcoming fic! this is just one segment of it, but i hope you guys like it enough to read the whole thing when it's posted! if you'd like to be tagged let me know :)

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

sixteen and nineteen

Newsflash you do live without Charles liking you back. In fact your crush goes away by the end of that year, no thanks to the new boy in your grade, who eventually ends up being your boyfriend. But it was safe to say you were over Charles, at least you think you are. 

Charles, on the other hand, stayed with the girl who made you go crazy at age thirteen for over a year, but they broke up over text. And to your disappointment, Charles never told you the reason why. Ever since then it’s been somewhat of a revolving door of girls in Charles' life. Okay – maybe not a revolving door, but at least three different girls in the past two years.

None of them lasted for more than a couple months though, and it was getting to the point where no one in either of your families got to know the girls. Everyone knew that they would be gone sooner than later. After his last “breakup” a couple months ago, he hadn’t brought around a new one, he claimed that he needed to focus on racing, that F1 seat was almost in his grasp and that was all that mattered to him right now, but you knew there was something else going on. 

While Charles was having issues in the relationship department, you were actually flourishing. You had met your now boyfriend Lucas, when he was the new kid your eighth grade year. You thought he was cute from the moment he walked into your History class the first day back from winter break.

And when the seat next to you was the only open desk you tried to hide your excitement as he sat down, but when he smiled at you first, it was hard to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was the first to speak, asking if you had a pencil. But his accent made your ears perk up – he was Spanish. The big brown doe eyes and dark hair fit him, now that you realized he was Spanish. 

“Do all Spaniards come unprepared on their first day?” You teased as you handed him a pencil. It was his turn to be the one blushing as he stifled a smile. 

“No, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” 

So he was a flirt – noted. 

The two of you became good friends rather quickly, but per your parents rules, you couldn’t date until you were fifteen. So, you played the long game and prayed that no one else peaked his interest. Luckily for you, he was so infatuated with you that he was willing to wait, and on your fifteenth birthday you went on your first date.

He was nothing shy of a gentleman, even going as far as asking your parents permission to take you out, something your Father was very fond of. And as your parents watched their little girl walk out the door hand in hand with a boy they couldn’t help but feel a little sad. 

“Our little girl is growing up.” 

Your Mom wrapped a comforting arm around your Dad. “I know. I’m glad though, I figured she would waste her teenage years waiting on Charles.” 

A questioning look washed across your Dad’s face. “What?” 

“Oh honey. Don’t act like you’ve been blind these past ten years. They’ve always been drawn to each other, her more than him. She was absolutely heartbroken when he brought his first girlfriend to dinner that one time.” 

“Guess I should have known when he got them those matching rings.” Your Dad huffed. 

“Hmm,” she rests her head on his shoulder, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen as they still stand there, staring at the door. “You know Pascale has always said that Y/N would end up with Charles.” 

Your Dad scoffs at your Mom’s words. “And what do you think of that?” 

“I think only time will tell.” 

While your parents were discussing your love life back at home, you were having a grand time on your date. The pizza place Lucas had taken you to was cute, a fitting place for two fifteen year olds to be on a first date. Thankfully it wasn’t awkward or tense, and you had to thank the two of you for being friends for a year before your date for that. It was just like the two of you hanging out. 

On the walk back to your house your hands never separate, even when they start to become sweaty. And when he pulls you closer to him, so you're basically hugging his arm, you realize you could get used to this. The way his brown eyes look like pools of honey when the sun hits them just right as he looks down at you, the feeling of his thumb gently rubbing circles on your hand, and the way your name rolls of his tongue when he talks to you, especially with that accent of his. All of it has that all too familiar warm fuzzy feeling appearing in your stomach. 

When he stops in front of the ice cream shop near your house he doesn’t even have to ask you if you want any, you’re already dragging him towards the entrance. The little bell on the door rings as the two of you walk inside and the all too familiar sugary sweet smell hits your nostrils. 

“Ah! Chérie!” 

The owner Mr. Martin – a short old man with what you would call haystacks for eyebrows was beaming at you from behind the counter. He had grown fond of you and the Leclerc boys over the years, claiming that he loved seeing the three of you grow up, as he never had any grandchildren of his own. Though, when his eyes shifted to the right and saw Lucas standing next to you his smile fell briefly, if you hadn’t been staring at him you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“Who is this handsome young man?” He asks as the two of you walk towards him.. 

You introduce Lucas to Mr. Martin and it’s at that moment that you realize that this is the first time you’ve brought him here. Something that didn’t seem possible to you because you were here so often that you had to have brought Lucas here at least once, but you can’t recall a time. 

Only when a vanilla cone is in front of your face are you brought out of your thoughts. Of course Mr. Martin didn’t need to ask you what you wanted, it’s been the same thing every time for the past ten years. Lucas had already sat down at one of the little tables, chocolate cone in hand, while he waited for you. 

“I was surprised to see you with a boy other than Charles.” Mr. Martin states as he wipes down the counter. “He must be special because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here with anyone other than your family or Charles.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Yes, this was your first time you had brought Lucas here, but you know you’ve brought other friends here. There was no way in your ten years here that you hadn’t, but once again your mind was drawing a blank. As you glance back over at Lucas a knot forms in your stomach, it suddenly feels wrong to have brought him here. Like in some way you were tainting this place with his presence. Ruining whatever special hold this place has on your relationship with your family– with Charles. 

You completely ignore Mr. Martin’s statements and just give him a smile and thanks before making up an excuse as to why Lucas and you need to leave. He doesn’t take much convincing when you claim to want to see the sunset. His hand is back in yours as you hear the bell ring once more as the two of you leave. And it’s like as soon as you guys are back on the sidewalk walking towards your house, the gut wrenching feeling is gone. The only evidence of it is left in the ice cream and by the time you’re standing on your front porch step it’s all gone. 

Lucas has a lopsided grin on his face, one you’ve grown to love, as the two of you stand facing each other. “You know we are missing the sunset you wanted to see.” His fingers lightly toy with yours, before finally intertwining them again.

“Mmh. It’s okay.” You were getting lost in those big brown eyes of his, the sunset the last thing on your mind. 

“I’d rather stare at you anyways, you’re much prettier.” 

His words make you practically putty in his hands and before you know it you’re having your first kiss. It’s sweet, metaphorically and literally, the taste of ice cream still on both of your lips. His hand cups your cheek and you have to wonder if he’s done this before. But when he pulls away he only has you craving more, so you lean up and steal on more from him. Giggles escaping past your lips as you see the light blush on his cheeks, you were sure yours were bright red. “Guess this is where I ask you to be my girlfriend huh? Not like I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day of school, been waiting all year or anything.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk on your face. “Are you going to properly ask me?” 

By the end of the night when you’re laying in bed, you had officially gone on your first date, had your first kiss, and obtained a boyfriend all in a matter of hours that day. You were a giddy mess, excitement coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but repeatedly feel your lips, the feeling of Lucas’ still fresh in your mind the whole night. You couldn’t wait to feel them on yours again. And when he texts you that he wants to hang out tomorrow you think your heart just might leap out of your chest. 

Being with Lucas was like living on cloud nine, you truly couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. As the year progressed you really wondered how you had snagged someone like him– tall, dark, and handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and he made you feel like it too, until he didn’t.

That’s the funny thing about first loves, you really think nothing could ever come between you, that it’s going to last forever. But the only thing that lasts forever is the damage they leave when they’re gone. 

You aren’t really sure what switched in Lucas, but after a year of being together he turned into someone who was never happy with what you did, always picking fights over stupid little things. And you know you should have left him already, but you love him, and you think you guys can make it work. You’re only sixteen and your Mom tells you relationships shouldn’t be like this at this age, shouldn’t be mentally draining, but unfortunately this one is. 

All your arguments as of lately had been about Charles. Lucas, though denying it every time you brought it up, had become jealous of him. You weren’t even sure where the jealousy had come from, you barely saw Charles like you used to. He was in F2 on the cusp of getting that F1 seat and you were busy with school and spending time with Lucas. You had even gone as far as rejecting invites to hang out with your other friends to spend time with Lucas, something now you regret very deeply. 

It’s a chilly Friday night in February when everything comes crashing down. The argument started over Charles texting you asking if you wanted to hang out. You were already with Lucas, but you hadn’t seen Charles in a couple weeks and you knew once the season started seeing him would be even more scarce. So, you make the big mistake of asking Lucas if he wanted to hang out with Charles. 

“Why would I want to hang out with him?” His back was turned to you, but you already knew from his tone that this was going to turn into an argument. 

“Well I haven’t seen him in awhile and he texted me asking to hang out, I thought we all could hang out.” You thought maybe by including Lucas in the plans that it would make the situation better–wrong. 

He turns to face you, walking towards your bed where you’re currently sat. “Did he mention me in the text?” 

“Well no but-” 

“Exactly,” Lucas scoffs at you, his expression sour as he looms over you. “He doesn’t want me to come. I would get in his way.” 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, Charles was not the guy Lucas made him out to be. “Don’t know what you mean by you getting in his way.” 

“Oh don’t act cute about it Y/N.” Hearing your name roll off his tongue no longer sounded like music to your ears, it now more resembled nails on a chalkboard, like each time he spoke your name it was venom coming out his mouth. “Bet if I gave him the chance he’d try to get in your pants at the first opportunity.” 

Your eyes widened, cheeks getting hot at his accusations. “What kind of girl do you think I am Lucas?” 

“All I’m saying is your friendship with him isn’t normal, and it makes a guy wonder.” 

You were up off of your bed now, the two of you standing in the middle of your room. “This is getting old. I’ve told you, you have nothing to be jealous of.” You had started to twist the ring on your pinky finger, a nervous habit you had developed over the past couple years. 

“That is why your friendship isn’t normal.” Lucas grabs your hand, his fingers twisting at the ring trying to pull it off your finger. “What kind of girl wears a ring another guy got her while in a relationship? Huh? Even worse that you’ve got matching ones.”

Yanking your hand free from his grasp you can feel your blood starting to boil, and you’re thankful your parents aren’t home tonight because you can tell this is going to get ugly. “We fucking grew up together! He’s like a brother Lucas!” You were the first one to yell and you had unfortunately opened the floodgates because now Lucas is yelling.

“Who hasn’t heard that before?! He’s like a brother. Give me a fucking break. You’re telling me you’ve never had feelings for him? Not once in your life?”  

The accusations and ideas he was throwing around tonight were beyond ridiculous. 

“I’m not thirteen anymore Lucas. You know I only love you.” And you don’t realize what you’ve basically admitted until it leaves your mouth and you hear Lucas let out a dry laugh. 

“Ah. There it is. I think that last part may have been a lie, because you still wouldn’t be wearing that ring if you didn’t still feel something for him.” 

You shake your head at him, why couldn’t he get what you were saying though his thick skull. “I only have platonic love for Charles. It’s nothing like what you and I have.” 

He clicks his tongue, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. “Prove it.” You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused as to how you are supposed to prove that you love only him. “Take the ring off and give it back to Charles.” 

You tuck your hands behind your back, afraid he’ll try and rip it off your finger again. “No. It’s just a ring Lucas. You’re giving it more power than it has.” 

“If it’s just a ring then take it off.” You shake your head no at him. “Take it off Y/N.” You shake your head no again and he stalks towards you, causing you to back up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Take off the fucking ring!” He’s yelling and you can feel the tears starting to pool in your eyes. He’s never gotten this crazy before and you can tell that this is the end of the two of you. 

“Lucas just go.” You're trying to hold back your tears, but when he tries to reach around to grab your hand you let out a sob. “Lucas, leave! Now!” 

He backs up, and for the first time that night you get a good look at his eyes. They are no longer the pools of honey you once found yourself getting lost in, their dark, like a black void, and he almost looks unrecognizable as he stands there. “You never truly loved me did you?.” 

His words cut through you, because you really did love him, and you thought he loved you. But someone who loves you would never treat you like he has you. “I loved you more than you’ll ever know, but clearly you’ve got some shit mixed up in your head to think that I didn’t.” 

“But you are always going to love Charles more Y/N. You can tell yourself it’s only platonic love, but we both know it’s not.” 

You wipe away your tears as you sit back down on the side of your bed, this was getting old. “I can’t do this anymore. Truly. I’ve tried to tell you how much you mean to me, but Charles is a part of my life and if you can’t deal with that,” You take a deep breath, scared for what's about to come out of your mouth. “Then maybe we should break up.” 

And for the first time that night Lucas doesn’t respond and you’re actually surprised that he doesn’t put up a fight. “Alright then I guess we are done.” When he doesn’t immediately leave and decides to squat down in front of you, you're confused. Especially when he wipes away your tears as his hand cups your cheek. “I never wanted us to end up like this, but I can’t share your heart with someone else.”

He should be screaming and instigating more arguing, not being gentle and loving. More tears fall down your cheeks as he presses a final kiss on your forehead before walking out your bedroom door. You can hear your parents greet him downstairs, what great timing for them to arrive home, and when the front door slams you’re surprised your Dad isn’t going after him. 

You’re immediately calling Charles and you don’t even have to speak, your sniffles and ragged breathing lets him know that you need him. As you hang up the phone you hear a gentle knock on your door and you see your Mom peek her head in, her heart breaking when she sees the state you’re in. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

“It’s over Mom.” You choke out between sobs. 

She does the only thing that she knows you need right now and just holds you, lets you get it all out as she runs her fingers through your hair. 

But seconds later you’re both greeted with an out of breath Charles standing in the middle of your room. Your tears subside for a moment, as you see him doubled over trying to catch his breath.

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you two be.” Your Mom gives you a reassuring kiss on the head before exiting your bedroom. 

Charles takes her spot next to you on your bed, his arm immediately pulling you into him. “Did you run here?” You ask as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you expect anything less when you called me crying?” He’s deadly serious when he says it, and you don’t know it, but he’d drop everything to come to your aid, no matter if you asked or not. You don’t answer him, but when you wrap your arms around his waist and basically tuck yourself into his side, he knows you appreciate him being here. “Am I wrong for thinking this has something to do with Lucas?” 

The tears start to fall again as the fight replays in your head. “We broke up.” Your words barely above a whisper, but Charles has no trouble hearing them, even over your sniffles. 

“Never liked that asshole anyways.” 

You rolled your eyes at Charles statement, lightly laughing because he was totally lying. “Don’t lie, you liked him, hell everyone liked him.” 

“Ever thought I am just a very good actor? He made you happy, so I just pretended to like him, for your sake.” 

“Wish you would have made your dislike of him known, maybe I wouldn’t be a hot mess on a Friday night right now.” A sigh escapes past your lips, the feeling of Charles gently rubbing circles on your side had started to soothe you. And you wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his embrace. 

Charles doesn’t mean to pry, he knows you’ll tell him when you're ready, but he’s curious as to why the two of you had broken up, as far as he was concerned the two of you seemed happier than ever. But he wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t happy about the two of you breaking up, for reasons unknown to him yet. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” 

Your grip on him tightens and he thinks if he let you, you’d be under his skin if it was possible. “He was jealous of you.” 

Charles feels his heartbeat quicken and he’s not sure why, but he does know he wants to hear the whole story. “And?” 

You know you’re going to start crying again, but it's Charles, you can tell him anything. So you take a deep breath and spill the beans.. “It started a couple months ago. He’d pick fights over stupid stuff at first and then it turned into stuff concerning you. I tried to just let it go and make sure he knew he was my number one priority. But tonight’s fight was the worst one yet and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was basically insulating that I loved you more than him and I tried to tell him it was only platonic love that I had for you, but he wasn’t convinced.” 

There’s a strange feeling that blooms in Charles' gut as your words hit his ears and it clouds his mind because he’s never had a feeling like this when he’s been around you. It’s foreign and it scares the shit out of him.

You hold back some information from Charles, mainly because you were still processing how you really feel about him. Trying to sort through what Lucas had planted into your brain and what might have already been there, left over from thirteen year old you. But your ring clad finger searches for his and when you feel the cool contrast of his ring, you wrap your pinky fingers together. “Do you think our friendship is normal Charlie?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused as to what you meant. “Where’s this coming from?” 

Your eyes never break away from your intertwined fingers, matching rings staring back at you. “Lucas said our friendship isn’t normal and basically the fact that we have matching rings isn’t normal either.” 

Now Charles' gaze is also on your rings and for a moment he thinks maybe it isn’t normal, but then he realizes this is your guys normal. So fuck what anyone else or Lucas thought about his friendship with you. “Think he might have been just pulling shit out of his ass at that point. Jealous that he doesn’t have anyone in his life like we do each other.” 

Charles' words do make you feel a little better, because you know no matter what you’ll always have each other and tonight is proof of that, but that doesn’t stop your still broken heart from showing.

“Still kind of made me feel like shit though, like he made it seem like I didn’t love him at all, when I clearly did. I mean god Charles he was my first date, first kiss, first everything. Even with how badly he had treated me these last couple months, we’re always gonna have that connection. How am I supposed to find someone like that again? Fuck. I mean he literally has a part of me that I’ll never get back.” 

And Charles can feel his heart tightening at your words, because you’re truly the most amazing girl he knows, and to know that Lucas treated you badly when all you deserve is the best awakens something in him. 

“I wish you could see how you look to me, how amazing you are. Yes, you have those connections with Lucas, but believe me when I say you aren’t going to have a problem finding someone else.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you hear Charles speak. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You’re funny, kind, the best listener, and you’re so beautiful. Truly Y/N, anyone would be lucky to have you. And Lucas is clearly stupid for letting you go.” 

The blush on your cheeks probably looked like a bad sunburn with how much you were blushing and as you made eye contact with Charles you suddenly felt like that thirteen year old girl again. His green eyes burning into yours and when he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach. And for a brief moment Charles had pushed your thoughts about Lucas to the back of your mind. 

He pulls you into a hug and if there is one place you feel the safest in the world, it’s in Charles arms. And when he whispers into your ear that everything is gonna be fine, you know it’s going to be, as long as you’ve got Charles in your life.

[snowsinterlude]

Hellfire. (priest coriolanus × temptress reader)

summary: coriolanus was the priest of panem's church, and god knew how many times he had knelled up praying for you to stop teasing him.

c.w: sub!priest coryo, temptress reader, dacryphillia, overstimulation, religious mention, mentions to christianity, dom!reader (kinda), confessionary sex, details of sex and imagery

w.c: 1.849

you were so mean to him. how could you do all those things knowing he was a priest? it was a devil's work. you were possessed! at least, that's what he thought.

you weren't a religious person. on the contrary, you were an atheist. the cross hanging on your neck between your breasts? well, it was an accessory. it's not your fault they have such a pretty aesthetic, with all those pretty paintings and etc. if it's pretty, you want it.

and that rule applied to the priest in front of you, reading the bible out loud while ignoring your eyes and your red painted lips.

he had tried before, you know? he tried to bring the word of god to you, he tried to make you come (not in the way you desired) to your senses, he read the bible multiple times to you, the passages saying that you were not supposed to desire something that is not yours, especially a priest!

but if he didn’t want it too, then why haven't he publicly called you out? why haven't he exposed you to the high society of Panem, that hated sluts like you so much?

to you, the answer was simple and clear as crystal water; he wanted you.

you just needed to help him see it.

sitting straight on the confessionary, you had your legs crossed while your fingers played with the cross on your neck, kissing it knowing damn well he was seeing it through the small holes on that window-looking-thing separating you two.

"bless me father, for I have sinned multiple times." you begin, your voice too sweet for him to think straight. "this is my first confession."

"tell me, my child, what is it that weighs on your heart so much?" he didn’t notice how hoarse his voice sounded, but you didn’t care, it made him look cute on your most sincere opinion.

"the man i want is not supposed to be mine, father." you said, playing along with it. if that was the only way you had to make him get on his knees then so be it.

"is he married, my child?"

"you know he isn't." you said, almost chuckling at how nervous he was. you could feel it, see it, imagine it.

"and how could i know such a thing?" he asked. but you know that he knew. and he did. that's why his palms were so sweaty.

"ah, father," you groaned, your voice sounded so malicious that he tensed up even more. "i want that man so much- i can't stop imagining him with me night after night, and god i can't stop thinking about how he would look on his knees in front of me and-"

"on his knees?"

"yeah, father. he would look so pretty, you know?" he didn’t. he didn’t know. he couldn't know and he wasn't supposed to know. "i want him to cry for me, i want him to devour me and- ah, i can't stop thinking about how he would cry so much knowing that it's wrong. i want him to cry. i need to see him crying from pleasure and guilt."

"that's wrong, too wrong, my child." he said, his cock throbbing painfully from your words. he shouldn't want it. nor desire it. "but if you repent-"

"i don't. i don't feel the smallest bit of shame or guilt for wanting him, father."

"you should. he's a married man and-"

"he's not married."

"he's married to god."

"i can be his god." that was terrible. that was when you got up from the confessionary seat, walking over to the door he was. and he looked so pretty when you closed the door behind you two, his eyes tearing up while he felt cornered like a lamb in a wolf's sight. "if he's on his knees to me, then me and god are equal, isn't it?"

"no. that's not right. you're wrong, he'd never get on his knees for you- he shouldn't." his voice was shaky and the beads of sweat on his forehead were rolling down rapidly, getting a smirk to show on your lips.

it didn't happened too quick as he wished it did. suddendly your lips were on his and you had him on his knees, all while he cried out from guilt and pain. the pain from knowing that god was watching him.

"heaven help me," he prayed, his hands trembling just like his lips as your hand found his dick, "please don't- don't do this. that's wrong, you can't- i can't!"

"then why aren't you pushing me away? you had all the chances to make me stop this and you know it." you said, palming his cock through the liturgical vestment. "you could've exposed me, you could've pushed me away and you could've called me out publicly for wanting to fuck a priest. but you're here. you're on his knees with your cock pointing up and- woah, is it wet? you came already?" your laugh was deliciously teasing for him, but the tears on his eyes rolling down his cheeks were more than delicious for you.

"no! i-" he groaned in between the tears once you grabbed his dick, pumping it so slowly that the tears on his cheeks ran faster. his face hid itself on your shoulder, and fuck, the way your cunt got soaked up when his hand touched your waist made you smile. "j-just get it over with, please." and you didn't.

when he came, your panties were pushed aside while your skirt was rolled up and his nose was brushing deliciously against your clit while his tongue licked you up and down and sucked on you. you didn't have the heart to teach him how to do it right because he was already pleasing you. and that was how you were moaning his name in a manner oh so impure, your eyes closed shut with your hand on your lips, his cum was on that hand. you were too lewd. how could you be so perverted?

you pulled his hair back to pull him away, not wanting to cum on his mouth, and then, when you thought it couldn't get better and he couldn't get prettier, your wetness was running down his chin and he licked it. he licked it. you made sure to burn this scene on your brain just from how delicious it was.

"take off my bra."

"you're wearing one?" he frowned. and he knew that wasn't supposed to be his question, his question was supposed to be 'why are you doing this to me?', but he was so dizzy with the taste of your pussy on his lips that he felt dumb.

"ah.. you're right." you chuckled, pulling the straps of your blouse down, giving him a sight of your boobs, and he hated his own body for the way his cock twitched just at the sight of it and the way he felt like salivating on your nipples.

you were on his lap now, decided to let him seat cause being on his knees for so long with your weight on his lap could be troublesome and even painful for him. your pussy grinded on his cock deliciously, the small moans he let out were more lewd than yours, and that's when you felt something itch the inside of your brain, your hand meeting his cheek and smiling when you felt his cock throbbing against you, the sight of his tears were so good you couldn't help but lick them off his cheek.

"what was that for?" he cried out

"sorry. you sounded so slutty i decided to treat you like one." you chuckled. and he bit your shoulder now, muffling his own moans with your skin while drooling on your shoulder and sucking it. his cries were too pleasant for you to stop frictioning on him.

"why are you doing this to me?" finally, he asked it. and you smiled, kissing his lips in a filthy wet kiss were your tongue laced his in a war that he wasn't supposed to enjoy, his hips thrusting upwards wanting to feel the warmth of your core already. it was tortuous. you liked it.

"i told you already, silly. it's because i want you." you whispered, kissing his tears and you grounded your hips on him again, this time, your hand was directing his cock into you and that was just what happened. he was finally inside you.

"no- ah, for heaven's sake!" he moaned. he couldn't help it anymore, his hips thrusting upwards while you laughed at his indecency.

"woah, you're so eager for a priest."

"shut up." he growled, engulfing your boob on his mouth while his free hand massaged the other, rolling your nipple and pinching it. you couldn't seem to have other reaction other than moan and bounce on his cock, going up and down and back and forth on him in such a delicious manner that his hand went from your boob to your ass, slapping it. "god knows you tempted me."

"it was your choice to be here." you said, kissing him before pulling him against your boobs again, and god, who knew he could simply press your boobs together and suck them all at once? it was delicious.

your walls gripped and squeezed on him, it was a warning that soon, very soon, you would be cumming too. you knew he have cummed already and he was just as sensitive as you, cause he came not only on your hands but on his pants when he was eating you out. and you? you haven't came, you denied cumming on his mouth cause you wanted to cum on his cock.

and it happened, you shaked a bit, skin shivering while you came around his cock, the view was too deliciously perverted for anyone in their right minds to see. there was a white bubbling circle your pussy made on his cock.

you were so wrong when you thought he'd cum at the same time as you. he didn't. he fucked you more, for the longest ten minutes you could remember and maybe more.

he grabbed your hips to make you bounce up and down on him, and you could feel the electric feeling of his balls slapping on your cunt. then, and just then, did he came, rope after rope and you came again too. a rough and aggressive groan leaving his mouth while he nipped on your nipples.

"i hate you." he growled, too fucked out to take his dick out of you.

"your... your dick doesn't seem to agree." you said, breathless.

"you're such a whore." you smiled, kissing his forehead and the tears, result of the overstimulation you did on him, on his cheeks.

"you came inside this whore." you teased, and he cried more.

and those encounters never seemed to stop. he said it was the first and last time, but it has passed a month already and on every sunday you were on the confessionary with him, fucking his brains out.

[six-eyed-samurai]

Hello!! I saw ur taking requests, so u wanna know if you’d do a Giyuu x reader with koji and his little sister (if I remember correctly in the last fic, koji had a baby sister) where the little sister becomes bestfriends with a little boy at daycare but koji and Giyuu are being overprotective even tho she’s a baby😭😭 I thought this idea was so cute!! I’m really hoping you’ll have time to make this, make sure to drink water and thank you!!🤍🤍

-💽

SUMMARY: Like father like son - Giyuu and your eldest boy Koji are not happy at all your baby girl's made a new...ugh, boy friend. A/N: KYAAAAAAAH I can't believe you remembered, usually people only read 1 and 2. I'm so excited about this, it's so cute and TYSM for being my first request! Be sure to drink water too lovely! You can read this as a standalone fic, or part of: I, II, III WARNINGS: Fem reader, mentions of sex education. Post-war timeline SUNNY'S TAGLIST: @abadonkori @therabbitthatpostthings @ezekieleen (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed) MASTERLIST/PREVIOUS FICS My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

Man-eating demons. Comrade deaths. Yet nothing was as scary to the stoic Water Pillar when his firstborn suddenly appeared behind him whilst he was polishing his sword on the engawa and announced the dreaded six words.

"Dad, I have something to ask."

Giyuu froze, brain momentarily drawing a complete blank. The sword clattered to the ground, forgotten as Giyuu slowly turned his head around. Dear Kami-sama, he did not think this day would come so fast. He was just almost six, for goodness' sake; he'd been praying it would be another six years before he'd have to answer. Where were you? Crap, crap. You had gone to go pick up Sumire from daycare and now he'd have to deal with this himself.

Alright, he could do it. It's been six years as a dad. He could pull it off.

Koji waited for his father to nod before continuing, the serious face he shared with Giyuu creased with a frown. "How do you know-"

"Koji, it's a normal part of puberty everyone goes through, so naturally you'd be curious, and I'm very happy you trust me enough to come talk to me about it, but whatever sex jokes Uncle Sanemi has been making you want explained you should go ask your mother because I don't think I'm good enough at explaining what adults do at night or how babies are made at this stage," Giyuu blurted out. Exactly like how he had rehearsed it - Giyuu privately congratulated himself for not messing it up.

Two dark blue eyes blinked at him. "What?"

"What?"

"I-" Koji shook his head in confusion. "I dunno what you're talking about and I don't care how babies are made."

"Then..." Giyuu wanted to sink into the ground. "What...did you want to talk to me about?"

"Sumire." Koji wrinkled up his nose in a disgusted expression when he said his sister's name, padding up to his father and plopping down next to him.

"...is she asking you about these things then? I'm not too sure how to explain the jokes to a two year old either but I can try. Or you could just tell her babies come from storks," Giyuu offered helpfully.

"Wait - what? No, that's not what I was going to - what?"

Ah, for the days when Giyuu didn't open his mouth to talk much and eventually embarrass himself. "...sorry, go on."

"Yeah sure." Koji seemed a little distracted, even for a six year old. "Y'know the daycare? She made a new friend."

"That's...nice." At least she isn't taking after Giyuu? What was the problem here and how could he stop his ears from burning red at his not once but twice blunder?

"It's a boy. They keep playing together, sharing meals, nicknames and stuff. She even gave him -" Koji shuddered, narrowing his eyes. "A matching bracelet."

"A...boy?" Giyuu had long retired from being a slayer after the war and he probably wasn't too good with fighting with one arm, but hey, he was polishing that sword for a reason. He couldn't believe how he never spotted it before: Sumire had kicked up a huge fuss at being sent to daycare originally but recently had seemed almost...ecstatically eager to go. Too eager.

His own eyes narrowed. "Tell me everything."

***

"How's Sumi?"

At the sudden question you glanced behind to where your husband was pressing his forehead into your back, one arm wrapped around your waist as you cooked dinner. Not unusual behavior, but didn't Giyuu just see his daughter a few minutes ago?

"Fine, pretty happy at the daycare all things considering." You slid the salmon onto a different plate, unable to keep the suspicion out of your tone. "At least we don't have to keep fighting another war just to get her out the door like last time."

"Koji says she's making friends there."

"Was he supposed to say anything else?" You rolled your eyes. Now you knew where this was coming from. Of course.

"I don't like her friend," Giyuu said plainly. He let go of you to help carry one of the dishes out of the kitchen with you, doing his one-armed best to assist you in setting the table.

"And why is that?" You nodded along, as if you didn't know why. How long would it be until Giyuu cracked? "Koji! Sumire! Time for dinner!"

"He's a boy. Someone trying to steal her away from us. He already gave her a bracelet!"

"Yuu. Yuu, look me in the eye right now." Once your husband finally turned to meet your face he could clearly see you were struggling to hold in your laughter. "One, you're a boy yourself. Two, she's, well, two. Three, Sumire gave him the bracelet."

"Yeah, but I'm her dad! So what if she's two? It's too early for her to fall in love. And a bracelet is basically an engagement jewelry already."

You couldn't help yourself anymore, doubling over in laughter at Giyuu's quiet whining. "Koji put you up this, didn't he?"

"He told me," Giyuu admitted. "But no boy's allowed around Sumi."

"Shion's not that bad of a kid," You countered. "It could be worse."

Giyuu nearly spat. "Wh-what? You know his name?"

"Obviously, Sumire won't stop talking about him."

"And not me?"

"Yuu, look at how overprotective you're acting right now and say that again." You bit down your giggles watching your husband scrunch up his face and attempt to find a way to defend himself as your two children ran in and took their seats.

"I'm not overprotective!"

***

Perhaps slightly protective. Nothing more.

At least Giyuu wasn't being as openly hostile as Sumire's elder brother, who was sitting judgmentally from the corner, glaring at Shion over his book. Giyuu wasn't glowering per se, but you would probably have to save the poor boy soon from under the weight of two penetratingly unnerving stares.

Sumire didn't notice, beaming with literal stars in her eyes at her playmate (Giyuu had been the one to invite him over, which was extremely fishy, which was why you had decided to stay and watch as well). "Hi, Shion-kun! Mama made mochi, wanna go eat?"

"Sure." The freckled face boy stepped through the doorway, following your baby girl into the kitchen. Giyuu eyed him from behind the steaming cup of tea. "Hi Tomioka-san! Is it true you used to be a samurai? Sumi-chan told me a lot about you!"

You strategically interrupted right then before Giyuu could say something awkwardly honest by dumping the plate of sakura mochi onto the table. "Help yourselves, there's plenty to go around!"

So on went the playdate, Sumire suggesting games to her new friend who did his best to act normal and not nervous under Koji's sarcastic quips and Giyuu's pointed stare, oblivious to the fact her brother and father weren't ready to give her up yet (a trait she clearly got from Giyuu) - despite the fact you had spent half an hour before this drilling into their heads Shion was not here to go kidnap Sumire.

You made the mistake of leaving to go clean up the mess in the kitchen later on, however, under the relieved thought that maybe Giyuu had gotten over his little temper tantrum over the boy. Big mistake, because next thing you knew-

"GIYUU WHY ARE YOU HAVING A DUEL WITH A THREE YEAR OLD-"

"He wanted to learn how to use a sword," Giyuu said blankly, pausing in his movements. It certainly seemed innocent and safe enough, seeing as they were using wooden swords and were outside. Sumire excitedly stood by Shion's side, ever the cheerleader.

But you knew your man and son a lot better than that. There was no way they hadn't planned this, not when they were sharing a look.

"I wanna try be like Tomioka-san! Sumi-chan said he used to fight demons and even fought their king. That's so cool!" Shion piped up excitedly. You were going to murder your overprotective husband for this later...if Sumire didn't beat you to it.

"See, Ma? It's all fine," Koji smirked from the sidelines. "Begin!"

***

Predictably it ended with Giyuu slapping Shion with the flat of his blade, causing a scraped knee as well as Giyuu muttering to the fallen "Don't you even think about doing anything to her" when Sumire panicked and rushed over to her friend.

Luckily you managed to usher Shion out to be picked up by his dad in a flurry of apologies, pleasantries and assurances that it was lovely having him over while Sumire burst into tears and asked him not to go yet (you heard Giyuu's almost inaudible "Hmph" when Shion too cried and said the same thing).

Giyuu and Koji were feeling pretty good about themselves, sharing a victorious glance at each other - Team Tomioka 1, Scum Boy 0 - until you slammed the doors shut, calmed down your precious Sumire with the promise of all the leftover mochi in the kitchen before bedtime and then turned around to fix the both of them with your intense glare.

"Koji! Grounded, now!"

"What did I do?!" Koji threw up his hands but stomped off to his room.

"I saw you push Shion, don't act innocent!" You grabbed Giyuu's arm and began to haul him off to the privacy of your bedroom. "And don't think I forgot about you as well, Tomioka Giyuu!"

Damn, you did forget how pathetically kicked puppy-like Giyuu could look when he was playing innocent. "I didn't intentionally beat him up, you know."

"I know you didn't, Yuu," you said sweetly. "But I didn't know you were into fighting with little kids as well!"

"I just don't want anyone taking away Sumi."

You groaned. Once again Giyuu has melted your heart into a slushy mess with his blunt sincerity and expression. You leaned into his hold, grudgingly allowing him to pull your head into his chest but hit him with your fist still. "You're still not supposed to pull that kind of stunt, alright? No one's taking Sumi away from us. You and Koji are really idiots sometimes."

"What if I told you Koji likes a girl too?"

Your head snapped up. "WHAT?!"

"Yeah. He met her at school. Someone named Yuma," Giyuu said casually, as if he didn't know you would be reacting this way. He hummed, playing with your hair. "That's why he took your mochi, by the way, to give it to her."

"Why didn't he tell me?!" You wailed, suddenly forgetting how you had scolded Giyuu for this exact behavior. "I'm his mom! He's growing up so fast!"

Giyuu attempted to continue with his revenge plan but ultimately failed: you both wound up cuddling the rest of the night disappointedly lamenting how fast time flies.

***

BONUS:

"Onii-chan, what are Mama and Daddy doing in there?" Sumire pressed her ear close to the door, munching on her dessert.

Koji froze. "Uh...babies come from storks, Sumi."

[miguelhugger2099]

The Best Thing

Summary: Miguel O'Hara, star Quarter back of the Nueva York Spiders, lives lavishly with all he could want. What he didn't want is a little girl popping up at his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. The Game Plan AU. <<Prev Next>> Football Player!Miguel x Ballet Teacher!Reader, Gabriella is Miguel's daughter, No warnings Art: rusticfurnace on twt and ethiobirds on tumblr!

Miguel sits in front of Gabriella, leaning on his knees with his elbows. Gabriella stares back at him with wide eyes. She tries to give him a weak smile but it drops when Miguel takes a deep sigh, his leg shaking. Then in a hysterical chuckle, he shakes his head. “No, no. No!” Miguel’s gaze hardened at the little girl. “Tempest and I never had a kid.” His jaw clenches. Gabriella stands up and walks over to him, her hand rummaging through the big pink tote bag at her side. She pulls out a white envelope. “She wrote you a note.” She says plainly before walking past him to take a better look around his penthouse. Miguel snatches the envelope with a dry chuckle and tears it open without a care. “A note,” He chuckles again. His deep maroon eyes read the printed letters, his ex-wife's signature at the bottom. “Miggy, I know this is a surprise but Gabriella is your daughter. I need you to watch her for a month as it’s an emergency. I’ll explain when I get back….Tempest.” Miguel reads aloud, his tone softening and he sighs at the end.

Gabriella stares at all the pictures of Miguel plastered over the shelves and walls. She tries copying some expressions, frowning in some and pouting in others. Her attention is snatched back to Miguel when he calls out to her. He waves the envelope in the air. “You expect me to believe Tempest wrote this? That this automatically makes you my kid? Anyone could’ve written this!”

Gabreilla sighs again, reaching into her tote bag. “Here’s my birth certificate.” She hands him a sealed yellow packet and walks away again. “And your name is on it.” Miguel can only chuckle again. “My name? On your–there’s no way.” He slips the paper out of the packet and sees the fine print. For a moment, he prays Gabriella is dyslexic and confused his name with someone else. Gabriella Monroe. Father: Miguel O’Hara His leg shakes anxiously as he takes his cell phone and calls up his most trusted confidant. “Get here. Now.”

– A woman with bobbed brown hair and thick pink sunglasses bursts through his doors. Her white heels clack on the tile floor as he keeps one hand in her fluffy white trench coat and the other holding her phone. Her unamused eyes meet Miguel’s panicked ones as soon as she steps inside. Miguel gulps. “Fix this, Lyla.” He steps away to show Gabriella sitting at his kitchen island, delicately brushing her doll's hair. Lyla gasps and nearly drops her phone, covering her mouth in shock which prompts Gabriella to jump as well. Lyla drags Miguel to the side, her manicured nails digging into his bicep. “It would’ve been nice to know this early on.” She hisses as low as possible so the child in the room doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know!” Miguel hisses back and Lyla resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t know you had an ex-wife?”

Miguel waves his hand, dismissing her sarcasm. “It was a long time ago–we were young and stupid. We thought we were in love but it-it didn’t last for a year! And we never had a baby.” He emphasizes the last part of his sentence, brows furrowing and voice oozing with conviction. Lyla smiles tightly, not believing him for a moment. With Miguel’s rep, she’s more surprised there haven't been more baby scares. “Okay, Migs.” She chuckles, taking a deep breath, her hands clasping together. “Is there just any possibility–even the tiniest ones– where she could be yours?” She asks. She sees Miguel about to answer. “Really think about it.” Miguel looks up, digging through his brain in a panic. “I-I don’t know! We went through the papers, the divorce was final. She-she came by to pick up some of her things at my place and she-we-we…” Miguel falters, brows relaxing as the memories rush back. His eyes widen slightly–her lips, her voice, the anger and frustration and love that needed to be released for one last time. Miguel chuckles and pats his stomach, looking towards Gabriella and pointing at her. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He walks over to the fridge but Lylas accusing tone stops him from opening it. “I’m sorry, when did that ‘she-we-we’ happen?” She follows behind him and watches as Miguel bonks his head on the fridge door before grunting and facing Lyla again. “Like nine or ten years ago.” He whispers. Lyla turns to Gabriella with a smile. “How old are you, sweetheart?” Gabreilla perks up. “Nine.” Both Lyla and Miguel deflate. “Congrats, Migs.” Lyla says monotonically.

“Oh, God–” Miguel groans and rubs his face with frustration as he walks away to pace in the living room. Meanwhile, Lyla tries some damage control. She approaches Gabriella on the other side of the island, leaning her elbows on the marble counter and placing her chin in between her laced fingers. “Hi, sweetpea, let’s talk. So, the letter says your mom isn’t coming back for a month. Did she just decide to leave you here?” She asks, her smile tight. “She’s helping the starving kids–” Gabriella starts but Lyla cuts her off. “I’m not trying to hear that.” She says flatly. “Did she just decide to leave you here?” “I begged her.” Gabriella swings her feet as she sits in the high chair. “I said ‘Well, why don’t I stay with my father?’ and she said ‘Well, baby, he doesn’t know about you ye–” Lyla interrupts her with a groan, her hands waving in the air with a hint of annoyance. “I get it, I get it, whatever. Then who else can you stay with?” She sighs. Miguel claps his hands from the living room, approaching the two with a smug laugh. “I got it! Haha, Tempest has her mom..uh..Keke…Alicia…” Miguel lists off names, trying to remember the name of his ex-mother-in-law. “Amelia!”

Gabriella inches an eyebrow up, a shadow of annoyance. “Cecelia.” She corrects. “Cecelia!” Miguel laughs, shaking little Gabriella’s shoulder. “Same thing.” He mutters under his breath with a smile. “What about her?” Gabriella looks down, her fingers nervously wringing together. “She’s, um…she’s dead.” Lyla scoffs, resting her hands on her hips and stretching her lower back. “That’s convenient.” Both Miguel and Gabriella look up towards her, silently judging. Lyla pouts, flicking her bangs away from her face. “What?” She whines before staring back at Gabriella. “Does your mom have a phone? Email?” Gabriella shakes her head. “They don’t have internet there.” Lyla pokes her cheek with her tongue and crosses her arms. “How did you get here again?” “We flew to Nueva York here together and then she put me in a cab.” Gabriella recites her story for the billionth time. “And the cab just somehow dropped you off at some man’s house?” “Not some man! My father!” The little girl insists. Lyla points at her as if catching her in a lie. “So you say!” Gabriella frowns, her bushy eyebrows furrowing and her nose scrunching up. “Want a paternity test?” Miguel chimes in, oblivious. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do that.” Lyla meets Miguel’s eyes in a panic, shaking her head. She tilts her head to talk a little away from Gabriella. “As long as they don’t have needles, I’m–heh–I’m not good with those.”

Lyla grabs his arm again, dragging him close as she whispers to him. “Not in the middle of negotiating with our Patrick’s Burgers deal. If you take the test there’s a high chance it’ll get out to the press and the public will hate you for ditching your kid–if it turns out to be true–and all of our money will go down the drain.” Lyla sighs, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. “Lyla. Lyla-” Miguel turns to take Gabriella’s seat, spinning her to face Lyla and they both look at the incredibly stressed woman. “We don’t even look alike.” Miguel smiles his pearly whites, Gabriella looking at him for a glance before looking at Lyla again. She matches Miguel’s smile lines, the plump lips, and shiny gleam in her big brown eyes–a missing tooth in her grin. “Oh no,” Lyla draws out with sarcasm. “Not at all.”

The world still spins, with Miguel having practice to go to until it was so rudely interrupted by a 4 foot girl. He walks out of his apartment building, the doorman that had called Miguel about Gabriella in the first place standing outside. Miguel huffs in annoyance, his daughter behind him and now in his care. “Thanks for the heads up, Larry.” Larry barks a laugh, whistling for the other doorman to bring in Miguel’s car. “Told ya she was cute.” He cackles. Miguel’s car pulls up, the driver door being lifted up and Miguel gets in. He opens the passenger door for Gabriella, tsking. He ushers her to hurry inside. “C’mon, let's go.” He snaps. Gabriella looks inside the car and shakes her head. “No backseat.” “So what?” His face contorts, irritated. “If we get in an accident, the airbag will hurt me.” She clings to her tote bag strap tightly to her chest. Miguel bangs his head back. “I don’t have time for this, please.” Still, Gabriella crosses her arms, stubborn and planting her feet in the ground. Miguel settles for putting his football helmet on top of her head and it flops forward, covering her eyes. On the way to practice, Miguel is asked questions by Gabriella. “I’ve got four weeks to make up for eight years, mkay?” She pulls out a binder from her tote bag, flipping open the book to a page of messy handwritten questions. “It’s simple: I ask, you answer.” She lifts the helmet on her head up so she can see what she’s writing.

“So for example, if you asked me my favorite thing to do, I’d answer with ballet. Now, what’s yours?” “Football.” He grunts, honking his horn and shouting at the traffic while she writes in her binder. “And if you could only save one thing in a fire, what would it be?” “My Heisman.” Before Gabriella could write it down, Miguel interrupts her. “No, no, no, wait.” He lifts a finger and smiles. “My limited edition Miguel O’Hara Spider Sneakers.” Gabriella rolls her eyes. For the remainder of the ride, Gabriella continues to ask questions and they feel endless. Miguel gets tired of it, telling her no more but she insists. “Just one more question.” She perks up, shuffling in her seat and lifting the helmet up slightly to look up at him. “What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Miguel sighs, kissing his teeth and can’t shake off the feeling he’s had for a hot minute. “Hey, I got a question for you. Why didn’t your mom just bring you here herself?” Gabriella’s smile drops and she looks down in her lap. Her eyes cast towards her tote bag and she smiles again. Her hand digs inside and she pulls out a tupperware box of cookies and presents it to him. “Want a cookie?” She squeaks. Miguel tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t want a cookie and stop avoiding the question.” “But you said you were hungry.” She frowns and lifts the box higher after popping the top open. “And I made them special for you.” “Ugh, fine, fine. Gimme that..” Miguel shoves his hand to grab a cookie, taking a giant bite out of it. “Your mom.” He reminds her, mouth full of cookie. “I told you it was last minute..” She fiddles with a crumb.

“I just can’t believe Tempest would do something like that. Letting her daughter just appear all alone–it doesn’t sound like her.” He mutters out loud to himself. He coughs after taking another bite of Gabriella’s cookie, scratching his tongue with teeth. Does it feel a little swollen? Still, he speaks his mind. “I know what happened.” Gabriella winces, peeking meekly through the front guard of the helmet. “You do?” Miguel coughs. “She screwed up her hair again, didn’t she? Hiding away in embarrassment?” “No.” She grimaces. “All that bleach and dye finally destroyed her curls, didn’t it?” Miguel checks his mouth, feeling strange but he still ends up finishing his cookie. By the time Miguel changed into his uniform, his mouth had gotten worse, his tongue swollen and giving him a lisp. They both enter the field house, Miguel’s tongue still bothering him while Gabriella walks behind him, her head swiveling around to soak in the place. Miguel annoyingly looks behind him, to see her lingering behind. “Let’s go!” He slurs and her little legs hurry to stand beside him. “What do you think, you can just roam around safely or something? Stay close, little lady.” He speaks, his lisp becoming more apparent.

“Are you okay?” Gabriella frowns, tilting her head. “Do I sound okay?” Miguel snaps, bending down to her height. “What’d you put in those cookies?” He jabs a finger to her tiny bag. “Milk, flour, eggs and cinnamon-” “Cinnamon?! Cinna–I’m allergic to cinnamon!” He hisses through his lisp. Gabriella’s face falls, genuine remorse crossing her face but Miguel is too peeved to notice or even care. “Oh, I’m sorry…” “Oh, ‘I’m sorry’? All you gotta say is ‘I’m sorry’? I sound like this and you’re ‘sorry’?” He stands up straighter, glaring down at her and shaking his head before walking away. Gabriella watches his back as he walks away. “I’m allergic to nuts!” She calls out, hoping that information would help him feel better–or at least be a little useful. It seems to fall flat.

Taglist: <3: @maiyart @aphinthestars @byjessicalotufo @mochi73 @peachey-pie @beezusvreeland @scorpihoooe @having-a-time @slut4oscarissac23 @iamperson12280 @planetxella @fandomtrash5092 @miguelsfavwife @juneonhoth

[readychilledwine]

hi, would it he okay to request one where it’s reader x azriel and they’ve been struggling with fertility/getting pregnant. And after a while reader finds out she’s not only pregnant but with triplets😭😭 and they’re all crying happy tears together sith the ic and celebrate😭😍

I was struggling with fertility and finally got pregnant after so long and I couldn’t be happier, so seeing dad az would be so amazing, but I read ur latest post so if it’s a lot then please feel free to ignore ❤️❤️

No. This is perfect. I can do this. 💙💙

Azriel Week Day 6 Prompt - Past and Future - Threefold

Summary - After years of trying and unsuccessful attempts, you and Azriel finally receive everything you've asked and prayed for threefold.

Warnings - high-risk pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic), babies, illusions to miscarriages, inferred toll of pregnancy on mental health (its hard.)

A/n - this fit too perfectly for @azrielappreciationweek dad Az is my favorite to write as a father simply because his inner child deserves to heal 💜

Madja and Rhys held your upper body as another bout of sickness ripped through your stomach. You hadn't felt right for several days now. You were exhausted and irritable, and lately, nothing has stayed down.

Rhys pulled your hair back, rubbing small circles into your back. "I can call for Azriel, y/n," he offered again. "He's only doing some follow up things in Windhaven. There are no new issues."

Madja looked at the High Lord. Calling for him silently in her mind. It was clear to the healer what was going on, and she wanted you on bed arrest immediately. You and Azriel had been trying and struggling to have a babe for years. She inclined her head to Rhys, motioning for him to follow her.

"She's pregnant," she boldly said. "The scent is faint, meaning it's early, but her morning sickness indicates multiples." Rhysand's face fell, joy, happiness, fear, sadness all washing over him. You and Azriel were the last of the circle without children.

He and Feyre had 4, Cassian and Nesta had 2, Lucien and Elain had 2. Even Mor and Armen had adopted children. But you and Azriel? You had been trying for years now, and unsuccessful attempt after attempt had led to you two in long fights, heartache, and emotional turmoil.

"Were they even trying?"

Madja nodded at the question. "We tried one last alternative method. It was very painful for her. That's why I need you to command her to bedrest, Rhysand. For them."

The High Lord reentered the bathroom, gently picking you up after you finished brushing your teeth and began the pathway to your room. "You're done working for today. I'm calling for Azriel." Madja opened the door for him, watching as he gently set you down on the soft sheets and blankets you had already started subconsciously nesting with. "You will not leave this bed unless one of us is here with you."

The Riverhouse set food and water on the table, indicatine needed you needed to eat. "Madja, what's going on?"

The old healer looked at you. "I'll be able to give you a better answer once Azriel is here and I examine you."

Azriel flew hard. Not wanting to be away a single second longer after Rhysand's urgent message. He landed with a thud, and instantly went into Rhysand's office where he and Cassian sat in silence. "Where is she? What's wrong?"

Rhys motioned for him to sit and Cassian handed him the whiskey he was nursing. Rhys sighed, "She's pregnant. Madja thinks there's multiple. You're both done. You will distribute your missions until further notice and stay with your mate." Rhys paused as Azriel threw back the expensive whiskey. "Madja is with her and waiting for you for the exam."

You were laid back, Azriel holding your soft hand in his scarred ones near his mouth as he kissed each knuckle. Madja was glowing, hands over your abdomen. You watched her mouth twitch and Rhysand stop pacing in the corner before he started to just laugh. "You are indeed pregnant, my dear. With three healthy developing children. Maybe 6 weeks." Azriel's face fell first, looking at Rhysand in panic. "I will leave you two with your High Lord. He is aware of my opinion given your history." Madja left the from gracefully, a firm smile cemented on her face as she walked into the hallway where the Inner Circle waited.

Rhysand moved to the foot of the bed, leaned on the post as he looked between you and Azriel. "You're on bed rest. You will not leave this bed or go anywhere alone. No training. No long walks. No long trips into town. We," he motioned between himself and Azriel, "will set the nursery. You, my dearest y/n, will no longer lift a damn finger." Azriel had not moved, his eyes locked on you. Rhys took the silent message, leaving the room as Azriel moved onto the bed with you, his mouth immediately on yours as that dam broke and tears began to fall.

"3?" He asked in shock, a hand going to your stomach. "And 6 weeks? You're already to where-"

"I know," you interrupted softly. "If we can make it 2 more weeks, it'll be the furthest we've made it." Azriel's hand tilted your head to his, and he kissed you softly.

Azriel paused. "Rhys is asking Madja if she'd be willing to stay here with her own chambers. They're also all setting up a rotation to ensure one of them is always with us."

You nodded, hand going over his to rest on your stomach. "3."

"3," he whispered back.

6 weeks passed without complications. At, 12 weeks and you were halfway to that safe period Madja had promised. The healer had her hand over your stomach, glowing in her magic and happiness.

"Such healthy little heartbeats." You felt Azriel's body language relax and his hand gently squeeze yours. "Everything looks very healthy so far. I will not lift the bedrest, though."

You looked at Azriel, silently pleading for him to advocate for you and were met with a soft apologetic gaze. "No," he commanded softly. "You stay here. I stay here. We stay here." House arrest, bed rest, that was the only issue so far. You were used to your work, to running daily, to anything but this. Madja left with a small smile as Azriel whispered thank you, and you began to cry. "I know, my love-"

"No you don't. You do not know what it's like to be trapped here. I can't even go outside without Rhys or Cassian appearing out of fucking no where. I miss the sun, the grass." You took a deep breath. "I am confined to this house and it's many walls for the well being of our babies. I understand that, but what about my well being, Azriel? What about my mental health?"

Azriel looked down, your normally selfless mate. "I'm sorry, y/n, but until I know something as simple as laying in the sun won't hurt them, I will support you being in the home, maintaining low stress levels. I will see if I can find a compromise. Perhaps an atrium? I know you've always wanted one."

You woke up to that the very next day, Azriel, Rhys, Lucien, and Cassian were all shirtless with other workers. A room facing your favorite garden had been wrecked, the furniture all moved. They had started at sunrise and at nightfall it stopped. Between magic, skills, and your husband refusing a break, you had a skylit atrium. Rhysand moved to you, covered in dirt and sweat, tilting your chin to place a small kiss on your temple, then Cassian, then Lucien, the last leaving his hand ok your already large stomach for a little while with a happy smile.

Azriel was moving the furniture back, shadows assisting every step of the way. He finally entered the room, lifting you gently from the chair you were reading in, and placing you in the lounging couch he had moved into the full glass room.

"Az-"

"I love you," he interrupted. "And I'm sorry you're having to make this sacrifice for us and our family, but please know I love you. Please know I am just worried. We've lost so much, too many already. Please, y/n, meet me here. Let this be our common ground until Madja says otherwise."

You had no choice but to nod, eyes locked on the beautiful night sky you had not seen in what felt like months. "I'm hungry." Azriel smiled at the statement. His eyes lit up as he felt your gentle caving down the bond. "Could you perhaps bathe and feed me? Maybe out here?" Azriel nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Before you blinked, your third trimester was half way over, and suddenly bedrest was all you could think about. You were uncomfortable, large, constantly feeling as if the babes were using you as a personal playground. You and the Twins were in the kitchen when it happened, tight pain shot through your stomach and wetness came, your hand flew to Cerridwen and she supported you immediately, screaming for Madja as she moved you to sit.

The next several hours blurred together. Rhysand appearing and having Cassian help him carry you to a tub per Madja's request. Him holding your mind as he apologized over and over.

It made sense that this was happening now. The one time there was a mission that required Azriel. The one time he was in the Mortal Lands, having to spy on the Queen furthest from your home. Rhysand held your hand through the process, Cassian helping support your body as every inch of you felt like giving up and going out.

Until that first scream came. That first wail of life. That first tiny little body handled to one of the twins, small perfect wings intact. "Push, y/n," Rhys whispered softly. "They need their siblings." It could have been but moments, possibly hours. You didn't know. But a second cry came followed by the door slamming open and Azriel running to your side, allowing Rhysand to move and help with the babes.

"I'm so sorry," you kept saying, guilt hitting you at his bittersweet joy of missing two of the babes being born. "I-"

"It's okay. I'm here for this one." Azriel kissed your temple. "Two have wings, my love. You are doing so well."

The third cry came soon after, your body wanting to be done before finally giving out as Azriel and Cassian waited for Madja to heal you the best she could. She nodded and they removed you from the tub, body absolute done as you rested in Azriel's chest.

Cassian had gone to the babes, his excitement too heavy. Soon the whole Inner Circle and Nyx sat in the room, waiting for Madja to begin the announcements. She walked one of the babies to you, "First Born, winged, healthy weight for a triplet. Boy." Azriel stilled, his grip on your hand tightening.

Rhys walked the second over, a familiar soft look in his eyes, "Second born, winged, also healthy and hungry. Boy."

Cassian was sobbing holding his little bundle, looking at Azriel and then nodding. Your mate's dam broke, handing you the two sons instantly and reaching for the baby Cassian had. "Third born. Wingless for now, we all know that won't be the case forever, though. A little smaller than Madja would like. Girl."

Azriel held her close, his eyes locked on her perfect little face as tears fell. "You promised," he reminded you gently. You were too busy, admiring your boys to even respond. They were holding hands, both searching for their sister. "Y/n."

You broke your stare, brows knit in confusion. "They're your lineage, Azriel. You know you have last say in their names." Madja and the Inner Circle now stood closer as Azriel studied the babes one by one, never letting go of his daughter.

"Ophelia," he handed her gently to you. "After my mother." He took one of the boys, stroking his little cheek softly. He was holding the second born, who was wearing a serious pout. The was the largest of the three, little wings trying to stretch already on his back. "Ramiel. Because I have a gut feeling." Nyx laughed gently, silently asking to take his cousin and get him situated for a bottle. Azriel gave him to his nephew, a look of warning on his face. He took the oldest, who immediately took a scarred finger into his tiny hands. "Opinions, love," he asked you before realizing you were feeding your daughter. "She just decided to latch on there, huh?"

"Pretty much," you looked at your oldest son, the second smallest. Face all smiles. "Arnan," you looked to Armen. "After his aunt who found the method that brought them into the world." She was at Azriel's side immediately, taking the babe from him without him even putting up a fight.

*3 months later*

You and Azriel sat in the nursery. The boys in his arms, feeding softly from bottles, your daughter in yours breastfeeding. Figuring out a schedule to ensure all of them breastfed once or twice a day had been difficult but the routine was easy now. Ophelia slept best through the night after skin to skin and breastfeeding. Arnan was less fussy in the mornings when his breakfast came directly from you. Ramiel napped better after an afternoon breast feeding. "They're holding their heads up so well," Azriel cooed. "My strong boys." He was a male obsessed and in love. He was frequently out your shared bed at night, and you'd find him, sleeping with all three of them on his broad bare chest in the nursery. He was the perfect father despite not having an example of how to be one.

"I think our sweet girl will get there soon," you kept watch on her, holding her little hand as she reached for you. "We're just a Danity little thing, though so Heaven forbid daddy has to carry and coddle us more." You teased them both as Azriel's jaw dropped.

"I can't help it, love. Look at her, look at those eyes, that nose, her little smile. I'll carry her to Spring and back by foot." He stood, burping both of the boys and laid them in their cribs before coming to sit in front of his girl. "I want her when you're done."

"You say that until they poop."

"They're so warm and happy after breastfeedings, y/n." He watched as she unlatched by choice, reaching for her father's familiar voice and he took her. "And her belly is all full. And she's so happy. My little star. The perfect ending to our family's constellation." He walked her to her crib, continuing to coo her. "All of my little stars," he turned their mobiles on, watching as they all slowly shut their eyes and then walked to you.

He left the door open a crack, escorting you to your adjoining bedroom. Once inside he kissed you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he did, and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go to bed. Please. They hardly napped at all today. Nyx got them that damn toy and I am still deciding if our nephew gets to live." Azriel laughed quietly, moving to the bed with a hand holding yours. "Perhaps tonight you could stay here."

He paused, staring at you as he pulled the blanket over you two. "I don't know what you're talking about." His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I always stay the night here."

You kissed his hand. "Of course you do, Azzie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, y/n."

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

*************************************************

1934 Philadelphia

The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.

It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.

Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.

You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.

The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.

The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.

If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.

It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.

Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff,  choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.

Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.

You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.

Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.

"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.

Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.

A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.

Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.

And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.

You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.

Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.

 It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.

Which he was.

You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.

"What about school?"

"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.

"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.

"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"

You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.

"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.

Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.

"No."

"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"

"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"

"Let me guess, pink?"

"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."

"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.

"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"

"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"

"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.

The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."

You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.

It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?

"You're incorrigible."

"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."

You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.

"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.

"What happened to you being the present?"

"I am a gift, but I did get you something."

You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.

"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not this time."

You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."

"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"

"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"

 "Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.

"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."

"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.

"Ben!" You snort.

“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”

“Ben!” You flush bright red.

“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.

An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.

"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.

"You're welcome."

Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.

And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.

"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”

He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.

“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.

“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”

“Another diet?” Ben frowns.

“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating  since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.

"You shouldn't listen to her."

You shrug.

"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.

"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.

"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.

"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.

My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.

"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."

"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."

*************************************************

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[whiteskullofroses]

Noch einer!

(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)- slight nsfw

A/N: Man idk, it's 1 am and Dieter is baby girl. I don't support nacizm/any of this man's ideologies. Enjoy!

🍻 Imagine being a Yugoslav Partisan camouflaged as an SS officer, when attending a nazi meeting in the basement you meet Dieter. After a few too many shots you slip up, but luckily he is too busy thinking about you rather than the things you say.🍻

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

The room was getting louder and louder with every second running by, yet you didn't budge. At least on the outside, on the inside though, you were on fire. The gun on your belt looked lovelier with every nazi that walked in and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

You couldn't believe that you approved of this "genius" plan The Basterds came up with. No matter how stupid it seemed, there was a possibility it could work and you wanted nothing more than to have these Schwabs out of Europe and sent straight to hell where they belonged.

The SS uniform felt too tight and uncomfortable, you tapped your black boots against the cold cement and silently cursed every officer that came in the basement, however, you decided to busy your mind with something else and stretch your legs. You got up, lit a cigarette in between your middle and pointer finger, and noticed the gramophone hiding behind a wall. Just as you noticed it, it stopped playing. Walking up to the gramophone to restart it, your eyes noticed a figure in the corner.

The yellow light from the candle lit up the left side of his face.

The SS officer was reading a book and drinking beer. The more you stared at him, your mind forgetting about the music, the more attractive he looked. "No, Y/N this isn't right," you said to yourself: "I shouldn't pray on men today, especially nazis."

Without realizing he was staring right back at you until he finally spoke: "Fräulein? Was ist los?" You broke eye contact and didn't reply.

He took a deep breath and closed the book, his hand patting the sit next to him, gesturing for you to sit down.

Your heartbeat quickened, the tension was unbearable and not in a good way.

"Y/N, do not show any compassion to him, his people are killing yours on the lines out there, he doesn't deserve it." Were the only thoughts running through your head the whole time you were slowly walking up to his side.

But for now, you had to be an actress to stay alive. His cologne smelled nice. That was the first remark you truly noticed about him, besides his amazing looks. "Wie heißt du, Liebling?"

"Liebling? Hah," you thought: "what an attempt to get me flustered."

"Erika Shauenberg."

It wasn't your real name, of course.

"Zigarette?" the man asked you, smiling. His smile wasn't bad either, in fact, he was the most perfect man you've ever seen.

"Why does he have to be a piece of shit?"

Your cigarette from before burned up by itself without you even putting it in your mouth. He really got you distracted so much that you forgot to smoke.

Nodding and taking one out of the box you thanked him: "Danke."

With one slick move, he pulled out a lighter and lit it. German cigs tasted different than the Yugoslav ones, but for the time being, they were good enough.

"Oh!" He remembered: "Es tut mir leid, dass ich vergessen habe," putting one in his mouth as well: "mich vorzustellen."

Blowing smoke into thin air: "Major Dieter Hellstrom."

Dieter? What an extraordinary name.

"Erik!" Dieter called out to the waiter as he approached our table. "Scotch, zwei Gläser!"

Grinning, he leaned closer to you and half whispered: "Erik hat eine Flasche Jahre alten Whisky aus dem schottischen Hochland-"

"Would you mind if we continued in English?" You interrupted him: "I was raised in France as a German kid." Tapping your cigarette on a black ashtray: "I never learned proper German because my father, well..."

Think Y/N! Think!

"He was killed in combat and my mother died from the flu when I was only 5 years old." Putting on a sad face you sighed: "I was given to a foster family in France."

"Where?" Dieter wondered.

"Menton."

"Ah, Erik!"

The waiter brought the two of you your drinks and left the scotch bottle on the table. Amazing, this was going to be a long night.

However, in reality, you couldn't complain about being in his company. Yes, he was a nazi, and yes you hated nazis, but damn was he charming.

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

1 hour later....

You've never had this much fun in your life. How many shots you drank, how many cigarettes you smoked? You didn't care, and neither did Dieter. He was just as shitfaced as you.

You both laughed at each other's stories from the past.

"Noch einer, Liebling?"

"Ja, bitte!"

As he took your glass to fill it up, you watched the golden liquid splash on the table as the bottle slipped from his hand. You quickly picked it up, slightly touching his hand while leaning over the table to reach it, and laughed out loud.

"You know this reminds me when I lived in Yugo-"

Shit. No no no no no!

"Yugo? What Yugo?" he looked at you, his eyes glassy, gazing upon your face.

You swallowed hard: "Yugo? Yugo! Ah, yes!"

Think Y/n, think!

"Yugo's apartment .."

Good job Y/n

"We dated in highschool."

It was quite impressive how your foggy brain could still have such a wild imagination.

For a second he looked at you and said:

"You're aren't German, are you?"

Silence

You simply started at him and ran over the words he just spoke.

He said it's so effortlessly, his drunk tongue didn't slur one word in that sentence, as if that didn't mean that you were about to die. There was no solution in getting out of this. You do not have any evidence that you in fact were German, nor that you lived in France! Hell you don't even know France that well at all! You were pretty sure these were your last moments alive before his pretty German pistol would shoot you in the head and leave you for the rats feast on.

Suddenly the clock on the stone wall behind you started ticking slower, your heartbeat sped up and your palms got sweaty.

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

To be continued...

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction omegaverse fics where one of the characters is faking their secondary gender as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave the writers kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🎀 pray for some sweet simplicity by delsicle / @eeveedel

(E, 237k, racing) an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

🎀 Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

(E, 117k, friends to lovers) “Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.” “You’re right, they don’t.”

🎀 Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren

(E, 92k, famous/not famous) Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

🎀 i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by becauselarry

(M, 83k, football) AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. 

🎀 The Truth of Hearts by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 42k, television writing) After rising through the ranks to become one of Hollywood’s most celebrated alpha writers, the world is Harry’s oyster. Louis, another rising star alpha, is Harry’s greatest undoing, in more ways than one.

🎀 Confessions of a Fabricated Alpha by @jaerie

(E, 18k, phone sex operator) famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

🎀 Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles

(E, 33k, boss/employee) Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

🎀 don't know if i could ever go without by ifthat / @lovehl

(E, 14k, pining) “We’ve come up with a solid solution. You’re not going to like it.” “What is it?” Louis narrows his eyes suspiciously, glancing at a visibly enthusiastic Liam. “What if you pretended to be an Alpha?” Zayn suggests.

🎀 Next To You by savannah_blue

(M, 14k, canon) When Harry Styles won the X-Factor he quickly became the latest pop sensation. When Louis runs into him at a party, he quickly realizes that Harry Styles is nothing like his reputation of womanizing alpha. Turns out, Harry Styles is an omega. And Louis' mate.

🎀 I Don't Mean to Frustrate by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, friends to lovers)  the one where Louis is an omega pretending to be a beta, but what happens when Harry, his (pining) alpha best friend, learns his secret?

🎀 Fakes (Streaming Live) by @allwaswell16

(E, 5k, camboys) Alpha camboy Henry Steel has a rather unfortunate crush on omega camboy Luscious Lucas. He also has a rather unfortunate secret that's about to be revealed.

- Rare Pairs -

🎀 Big White Lie by acrayonsmile

(E, 263k, pack dynamics) Louis has been pretending to be something he's not for as long as he can remember. Will the pack find out before it's too late to fix him?

🎀 How Could We Be So Blind? by WrennAddysen

(NR, 153k, OT5) Zayn, 1/5 of the boy band One Direction, is an omega, pretending to the world that he is a beta. 

🎀 Like A Bullet In The Dark, by TylerM

(T, 27k, OT5) the one where Zayn, Harry and Louis are alphas in a pack with omega Niall, and Liam is a beta. Until he actually isn't and shit hits the fan.

🎀 a dark world aches for a splash of the sun by calums

(T, 18k, OT5) the 'beta!louis who is actually an omega' trope that everyone is craving

[pretzel-box]

Can we get an update about your Sebastian x read enemies to lovers?

Sure! I have the whole storyboard finished and started to write the first chapters. Might publish the first one in the coming week.

The whole thing will be called : As above so below

so you will find my works under #AsAboveSoBelow if you search it up on my profile!

I kinda was unmotivated because of the whole Zerum drama but it makes me happy to see people interested in my work!

A warning to everyone tho: This won't be a sugarcoated fanficion. Sebastian will be mean, kidnapper-behaviour, gaslighting, etc. warnings will be put at the start of each chapter. It's an enemies to lovers with some dark elements.

Chapter 1 snippet below

Unedited, non proof read.

The time on the wall clock displayed that it was barely some minutes after twelve in the noon. The warm sunlight creeped gently into the waitingroom by shining through the tall panorama windows of the building. A quick gaze to the side, to take a glimpse of the clock, was enough to tell you that it would surely take a few more moments till it was time to move away from the comfort of the leather chair you sat on right now. Your fresh desinfected hands clinged nervously onto your phone while swiftly scrolling through the list with the contacts that you had saved over the time you owned it. You were so concentrated that it slightly startled you, when another caller ID popped upon the bright screen of the phone, displaying the picture of your fathers face.

This particular man called you a lot lately, pushing his nose into your business after you dared to ask him for a teeny tiny favour, and you prayed that he wiould help since you are his beloved only daughter. But one of the things you didn't expected from him in that specific moment, was that he would take the oppertunity to call you, remembering that he was somewhere on the ocean.

He works as a high-class business man, sponsoring mainly a company called Urbanshade. You didn't knew much about them but your dad mentioning something about how they specialized in underwater mining with some high-tech inventions.

This explained his temporary stay on one of Urbanshade's ships, the testing and showcasing of another new underwater mining robot of some sort, called Trenchbleeder. Your dad funded the whole project in the past few months, so he was more than excited to see how his money is getting used for good reasons.

"Did they call you yet?" Despite the slightly static, the seagulls and the waves in the background, you were able to make out the strict tone in his voice. Of course he was curious. You have asked your dad if he knows someone who would hire you, his daughter. And of course, the first thing that he applies you for is one of Urbanshades research facilities. They didn't really looked for new employes in first place, but your dad was really close to the higher ups, so he bought the job for you. The fact he paid the company to take you made your stomach twist in an state of uncomfortableness but it was too late to turn back and say no." risked a lot by doing that for you."

He refers to the payment he has done for your sake and you can feel the pressure he dumped onto your shoulders.

You nod, even if your dad couldn't see it on the phone. "I'm at their building, sitting in the waitingroom. We sign the contract today." You tried to sound confident but you knew your dad saw behind your facade already. "They should be calling me into the office soon."

Your name gets loudly called through the room before your dad was able to reply to you, he would probably would give you another warning not to mess it up for his reputations sake. "Sorry dad, it's time."

You ended the call with a swift push on the red button, turning your phone ultimately on mute so nothing will distract the meeting you will now have with one of the higher ups at Urbanshade. The lady at the receptionist, told you where to go and another employee guided you to a glass room, showcasing a middle-aged man in an expensive looking suit. His arms were crossed and the way he scanned your application papers made your stomach turn.

The man must have noticed your little stare from the other side of the glass wall, since his head looked up from the file and it wasn't hard to miss the the coy smile on his lips. The previous expression on his face already replaced with a more welcoming one. "Ah, we finally meet. Your father told me already a good share abour you, little lady."

"I am grateful for the chance to work for your company, Mr.Wiltshire." The first impression counts, especially at a company as Urbanshade. And so you took the oppertunity to present yourself from the best side that you could possibly bring up, even if it means pretending to be something that you are not, in this case motivated and interested. Your hand almost raised up on it's own to offer a polite and respectful handshake.

"I assure you, we are the ones that are honoured to welcome you in our team.. Welcome to Urbanshade."

[entitled-fangirl]

HELP ME DECIDE ON MY NEXT FIC!!

I wrote brief (out of context) teasers for various asks in my inbox. Some have the main idea of the story and some don't- That's what makes it fun hehe. Anyway, read these and vote at the bottom which one I should write next!!!!

Red = Jace Velaryon x reader

Blue = Cregan Stark x reader

Green = Gwayne Hightower x reader

SOME ARE A LITTLE NSFW 😅

....................................................................................

1.

"Your mind is racing," he pointed out.

She turned around, seeing Jace standing in the doorway of the library. 

His usual grin came over his face as he stepped further into the room. "Mind telling me what ails you?"

She pulled her hair over her shoulder. "I'd prefer to not worry you over trivial things, my prince."

He chuckled lightly and continued to take steps towards her, "And I'd prefer my wife to call me by my name. Seems we are both quite unlucky."

…………………………….................................................

2.

"Surely, you should slow down," Cregan gently suggested as he took the chalice almost empty of wine from his wife's hand. 

She giggled when their fingers brushed, "Why would I when I am so thoroughly enjoying myself?"

He set the glass down, "You're a wonder, my love. Let us take you to bed."

A playful look came over her eyes, "Take me to bed?"

…………………………….................................................

3.

"I imagined your pretty thighs wrapped around my head," Cregan whispered in her ear. 

Still straddling him, she froze in place. "W…What?"

"I have dreams of devouring you in the most sinful ways," he admitted.

……………………………......................................................

4.

She didn't take his hand when she dismounted her horse. 

She was too headstrong of a woman, Cregan often thought. 

She was a Bracken, and Brackens were nothing if not stubborn as mules.

The war did nothing to bridge the gap of their marriage. In fact, it made it only grow.

A Bracken married to the Wolf who fought for the Blacks.

It seemed ridiculous.

…………………………….......................................................

5.

Cregan did not wish to marry again. The thought terrified him.

But he understood that his wishes were not taken into account when he was born with the Stark name.

Now, he nervously stood outside of the Winterfell walls, awaiting the young woman that would become his second wife. 

He was not a religious man, but he prayed that this marriage would be better.

…………………………...............................................................

6.

Cregan pulled her as physically close as he could and growled lowly in her ear, "I believe if I am kept from you for another minute, I will surely take you out here in front of everyone."

She let out a shuddered breath, "These months have been long without you."

"If you'll let me, I'll make up for every moment," he said as he kissed down her neck, not caring if the entire North saw.

…………………………................................................................

7.

She nodded, running a hand through Daeron's hair affectionately. "Gwayne and his father have never seen eye to eye, not since Alicent became queen. They are just two very different men."

"Is that how all fathers and sons talk?"

She pulled his chin up to make his eyes meet hers, "No. Not all fathers and sons speak in ill regard of one another."

"What if he does it to his own son?"

Her brows furrowed, "What?"

"What if Gwayne speaks like that to the babe?" 

She just realized how his eyes glazed over with tears. "Oh, sweet boy." She pulled him to her. "Gwayne is a man with a temper, but he would not do that. There is a barrier between Gwayne and his father. One that cannot be fixed now, and only because of that do they fight."

Daeron considered her words for a while, "So, because there is no barrier with the babe-"

"-Gwayne will love this child with his entire being, I promise you."

She held him for a while, promising to talk to her husband about it later.

………………………………........................................................

8.

"Jace?" She softly spoke into the dark as she stepped out onto the bannister. 

Jace's back was to her, but even from there, it was clear something was wrong.

She stepped beside him and set the candle onto the sturdy railing. "My love?"

He finally turned to face her. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red, and hot tears were falling down his face.

………………………………...............................................................

[vicsnook]

Tis the Damn Season | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

word count: 1318

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! I know its been a while, I’ve been dealing with a huge writers block but had this little idea while on the plane. Please forgive any errors, I didn’t read it back before posting it. Happy Holidays!

With your dad sick this Christmas it’s not surprising your mom would asked you to come home. So here you were, pulling into the familiar driveway taking notice of the Bronco parked in your neighbors yard, one you knew all too well.

A note taped to the refrigerator reminded you your parents would be back from the hospital tomorrow. Maybe a drink could make the night better you thought but the liquor cabinet was of course empty and the town doesn’t sell alcohol on Sundays. So that’s how you ended up walking through the doors of the only bar in town.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bradley Bradshaw hollered from behind the bar as you made your way to him. His hair was definitely a little longer and he sported the mustache he joked about growing all through high school. The years had been if anything, very kind to him.

“Hey Rooster, I didn’t know you worked here.” You said, taking a seat across from him, truth is if you’d known, you would’ve never come here. “I’m just helping Ronnie out ‘til my leave is over. Want your usual?” He asked, offering you a half-smile while his dark brown eyes burned into yours. “Sur- Sure,” you managed to stammer out. Memories of the last time you were here flooding back in as you watched him prepare your drink.

“So, you here for long?” He asked between customers and while you know he’s just trying to not make things awkward, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat. “Just for the week.”

“Bradley! Over here honey! More shots!” shouted a blonde from the other side of the bar before he could reply and you sighed gratefully for the distraction. Setting down the cash for your tab and booking it out the bar while he went to her table.

Your hands were shaky as you pried open the car handle and tried to start the car. This was a bad idea you muttered to yourself over as you turned the key. The radio announced a snowstorm tonight and as if on cue your mother called to say they wouldn’t be able to come home ‘til the roads cleared.

—

Waking up freezing in your childhood bedroom was definitely not great. Power had gone out due to the storm and you had no wood for the fireplace. Dreadfully, you made your way to your neighbors to see if they had any to spare. Regretting not putting on another jacket and better shoes. You eyed the bronco that was almost fully covered by snow while waiting on someone to open the door.

“Y/N?” Murmured a confused looking Bradley. You wondered how he could be shirtless and just in sweats in this cold weather.

“Hey, sorry to bother, power’s out and we have no wood for the fireplace.” You said through your chattering teeth. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, ushering you inside the candle lit living room.

The room looked just as it did 3 years ago when you broke off your engagement to Bradley. He was dead set on joining the Navy and refused to hear yours and Carole’s pleas to not follow in his fathers footsteps. “Mom doesn’t have any extra wood. You can stay, though, not sure when power will be back.” Said Bradley as he came back from the back porch where Maverick stocked wood for Carole every winter.

“Thank you, so how’s everything?” You said, taking a seat on the couch. Silently praying the power would come back on. “Great, just working all the time. I graduated from Top Gun a few months ago.” His eyes bore deep into your as he mentioned Top Gun. You’d had nightmares about him being in the Academy since Carole told you.

“Oh um, that's great. I’m sure your dad would be really proud.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Bradley’s face reddened with what you could only assume was anger.

“Don’t you dare say that Y/N, not after you and mom tried to use what happened to him to change my mind.” He hissed, sending shivers down your spine. Bradley was never quick to anger unless his dad was brought up. “I’m -I’m so sorry Bradley, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.” You stammered, getting up and rushing for the front door.

“Wait,” He grabbed hold of your hand before you made it into the foyer, Spinning you around and onto his chest. Being this close to him again had your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Mav tried to pull my papers and I almost didn’t even get to go to the Academy.” He muttered, you could smell the mint in his breath from how close his face was to yours. He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, making the words catch in your throat. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes that you’ve missed for 3 years now were staring intently into yours, waiting for an answer. Before you knew it, you were pulling his face down to yours and kissing the warmest lips you’ve ever known.

Your hands explored his unclothed torso as the kiss intensified and he pulled off your jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered in between kisses.

He pulled your pajama shirt off and slowly guided you back into the living room. Setting you down carefully on the couch. Your hands tugged his sweatpants down and you were grateful for his lack of underwear. Taking his hard cock into your hands and pumping it. “S-Slow down honey,” he moaned into your ear. He pulled your pajama shirt off as you shimmied off your pants. “Red? Merry Christmas to me.” He muttered, pulling down your red panties that you had a hunch you would not get to keep.

“I need you,” You moaned in his ear as he toyed with your clit. He slid the head of his cock between your folds, slowly pushing it in. You threw your head back in pleasure, no one else felt as good as him.

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and kissed your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys that you’d definitely have to cover up tomorrow. “You feel so good baby,” he moaned, playing with your clit and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Feeling your orgasm getting closer you grabbed on to his biceps, trying to help increase his pace. He knew so well what you wanted as he thrusted harder and faster into you now. You moved his thumb from your clit and took over, trying to reach that high you desperately needed. “Cum for me babygirl,” He whispered, watching as you came undone under him. Your legs trembling as his thrusts became sloppier and his release followed soon after inside you.

Bradley stood up once he had caught his breath, offering you a hand to help you clean up. His cum running down your legs as you hurried behind him in the candle lit house. He ran a bath and climbed in, motioning for you to get in with him.

He kissed your back as he scrubbed you gently with the sponge. You loved the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both as he finished scrubbing you. Regret was starting to seep into your mind about leaving him, knowing the heart you broke was your own.

“I miss you Y/N, I know I can’t ask you to wait and you can’t ask me to stay but can we at least have this week?” He asked quietly, your heart aching at his request. “Of course,” you whispered back in response, knowing how hard it’d be at the end of the week to leave the warmest bed you’d ever known.

taglist: @harperdoodle , @weirdothatwritess , @rosiahills22

[buckysgrace]

The Sinner

You're more than willing to help Billy Hargrove find his faith. The only problem is that he wants you on his knees for a different reason.

Billy Hargrove x Religious!FemReader

CW: Smut, some corruption, religious themes, Reader is holier than thou type, and Billy likes to break things.

Is this a result of my religious trauma? Absolutely.

"Hey,” Billy cornered you one day at the end of school as you were grabbing your books from your locker, “I wanted to ask you something.” You felt yourself staring for a moment, wondering what you had to offer for Billy Hargrove. You did your best to avoid gossip, but it still found you at times. You were smart enough to know that Billy had one thing in mind if he cornered a girl alone.

“You’d have to ask my father if you want to take me out.” You responded nervously, shoving the books into your bag. He chuckled, his charming smile lighting up the hallway. You could feel your hands shaking at the sound. You had never had him actually speak to you unless he was making fun of you reading your bible. He thought your devotion to your religion was something to make fun of. You always reminded yourself that he was lost and would one day hopefully understand. You always prayed for him when he would tease you about it. You didn't think anyone should have to burn in hell for eternity, especially when they were so young and could switch their ways. Then again, maybe that was your father's words inside your mind.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that actually, but noted,” You felt a warmth spreading through your body as you grew embarrassed. You hadn’t actually thought he’d ever be interested in you, but there was only one question Billy ever asked girls, “I doubt I’d get daddy’s approval anyways.” He muttered correctly.

The truth was you did like to imagine yourself going out with Billy. He was attractive, popular. It would be like one of those cliche movies. Maybe that was why you prayed for him so hard. You wanted him to better himself so you could dream of being with him. As much as you liked to pretend that you were, you weren't any better than the girls in your grade. You wanted him all the same. Late at night when you would toss and turn, dismissing the naughty thoughts that weighed in your mind. Those were the nights that you would pray and pray until you were too exhausted to think anymore. Your father would never allow you to go out with Billy, however much the boy could change. So, you pretended that you weren't interested in him. You'd still sneak glances, but you never told anyone about how you felt towards him, too afraid of the repercussions you would face. God always knew though.

“What’s your question?” You asked after a moment of silence. You swung your bag around your shoulders before pulling your bible from your locker. It was black and leather bound, and you liked the way the words were printed neatly on the pages. For some reason it made it easier to read.

“I want to repent, but I’ve never prayed before. I was hoping you’d help me.” Billy looked at you sincerely and you felt yourself growing lost in his blue eyes. A small smile formed over your lips as you pulled your bible towards your chest.

"You want me to teach you how to pray?" You repeated, filling yourself grow with pride. You couldn't believe Billy Hargrove had come to you for help. He nodded, almost bashfully as he looked over his shoulder, "I'd love to, but I really don't know how to explain it. It's just, talking to God." You explained, watching how his expression changed.

"I don't know how to do that. Please, I don't want to spend an eternity in hell. Teach me." You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you considered him. You thought of his words again, understanding that you wouldn't want to burn in hell either. It was your job as a Christian to help eithers find the Lord, even if that person was someone like Billy.

"Okay," You responded slowly, watching how he grinned widely at you, "We could do it here?' You questioned him, watching how his blonde curls moved as he shook his head no. You found yourself raising your eyebrow in confusion, wondering why he was denying this location if he was so desperate to save his soul.

"I'd prefer a church. What about the one your dad runs? Is anyone there right now?" You faltered for a moment, not realizing he knew your father's position. You reminded yourself that it was a small town and he had more than likely overheard it from someone.

"Sure," You nodded in agreement, "No, he shouldn't be there right now. We could go by now?" You asked unsure, clutching the bible to your chest. Billy looked down at it, nodding like he was considering something.

"If you're scared about other people seeing you, you shouldn't worry. There's nothing to be ashamed about in welcoming the lord into your life." You smiled, repeating the words you had heard your father preach with hundreds of different times. You sounded robotic, like an exact copy of him. You thought of how proud he would be with you at the moment.

Billy faltered for a moment, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip, "It's not that," He responded easily, "How about I give you a ride over? It's not that far." You nodded, thinking of how it would be a lot easier for you. However, you were worried your parents would grow worried once you didn't arrive home at your usual time. You shook the thoughts away, once again thinking of your father's beaming face once he heard that you had saved a sinner.

“Okay, thank you,” You smiled, completely missing how he already knew the location of your church. You walked alongside him through the long hallway, unsure of what to say, “You know I pray for you every night.” You finally spoke up, meaning it as a compliment.

“Yeah, why’s that?” His blue eyes casted down on you and you felt nervous suddenly. He had such an intense way of holding eye contact. You quickly glanced away and towards your shoes while you walked at his pace.

“I pray for all of the sinners. I don’t think anyone should spend eternity in hell would they could forever live in God’s Grace.” You explained, meaning it in the best way possible. You looked ahead, missing the way he rolled his blue eyes back in his head.

“How sweet,” You felt happy in Billy’s response as you stepped out into the breezy wind. It was warm the sun sitting high in the air. You didn’t even have to follow him to his car, already knowing where he parked from hearing the other girls talking about him, “Here. I’ve got it.” He opened the door for you, his smile shining against you. Your heart hammered as you felt nervous suddenly. You had never been alone with a boy in a car before.

“Thanks,” You slid inside, carefully tucking your skirt under you to keep from sitting on the hot leather seats, “It smells nice in here.” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but you had seen the way he smoked. It was shocking that the car didn’t smell that way.

Billy grunted in response, turning the car on as his loud metal music blared to life. You jumped, completely taken aback from how loud it was. You bit your lip hard to keep from saying anything. Your father had warned you about listening to this type of music. He said it was as good as devil worship.

“Something wrong?” Billy questioned, noticing your expression. You should your head quickly, not wanting to seem fussy over the music he listened to in his own car. You didn’t want to scare him off either. If he was just now learning how to pray she couldn’t imagine trying to explain how the music he listened to worshipped Satan.

“It’s just loud,” You strained your voice louder to talk over the music. You quickly buckled up, realizing he wasn’t going to wait for you to do so before he left, “What about your sister?” You asked suddenly, remembering the small redhead. Billy shrugged.

“She got another ride tonight. I told her I had other plans.” You felt a bit guilty for taking her ride but quickly got over it. You reminded yourself that Billy had done it for a good cause. He was going to he learning of God’s love. That was even more important.

“Oh, okay,”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?” Billy asked, turning his loud banging music down a few notches. You still had to strain your ears in order to hear what he said.

“No,” You spoke a little quickly and tried to correct yourself, “Daddy says I need a good Christian man.” You thought of what your father would say right now with you sitting in Billy’s car. He wouldn’t think of anything good, that was for sure.

“Huh,” Billy glanced over at you. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes lingered against your bare thighs where your skirt had risen high, “Have you been with someone before?” You could feel your whole body go warm as your hands clenched into fists, not wanting to have this conversation with him of all people.

“It’s up here,” You told him, pointing forward as your fathers church came into view. You purposely ignored his question, not wanting to feel the guilt and shame form in your chest, “It’s not much but it’s nice.” You admitted, unsure of why you found yourself needing to defend the size. You had never worried about it before. Perhaps, a small part of you wanted to impress Billy. After all, he had came to you specifically. Maybe you could change him.

It was tiny and white, with a long dirt path that blew up dust as he drove up towards the dirt parking spots. The sugar maple trees leaves had turned from orange to red as the seasons began to shift into Winter. It was one of those days where it had been chill in the morning, but the afternoon sun had made it hot. You smiled at him, hoping that he wouldn't be too worried about his nice car getting dirty.

“This is it,” You mumbled, thankful when he turned the music off, “I think it’ll be good to pray at the altar.” You responded after a second. He held onto his keys as he watched you

“Why there?” He asked, actually seeming to be curious. You grinned again, more than happy to explain the importance of the altar to him.

“In the Bible,” You began watching as he reached across you and pressed the button to your seat belt. You gulped, feeling the warmth from his hands linger against your side, “It’s where people used to make sacrifices for atonement of sin.” You explained, unsure if you made very much sense by the way he held your gaze. He nodded gruffly, before stepping out. You followed behind him, racing up the short cement steps as your skirt picked up in the breeze. You hastily flattened the material back down before opening the door.

“This is nice,” Billy spoke up after you, lingering behind your movements. You popped your knuckles, trying to walk as straight as possible and keep your hips from swaying, “Do many people come?” He questioned as you walked into the service room. You looked around the wooden, red pews before turning to face him.

“Sometimes. Usually around Easter and Christmas. Daddy says that’s when sinners feel the guiltiest.” Billy tilted his head as he watched you curiously. You dug your heels into the wooden floor, unsure of what he was thinking. You watched in a trance, staring at the curve of his hands as he reached into his back pocket. The church was so quiet that every little sound echoed in the room. Your eyes widened as you watched him bring a cigarette between his lips.

“No, no,” You quickly placed your hand over his fist as he began to open his lighter, “Not here. There’s no smoking in the house of the lord.” You explained quickly, watching how his lips curled up just enough to look as if he was smiling. You could tell that irritated him, but you stuck to your fathers' rules, watching as he placed his cigarette back in his box.

"S'alright," He grumbled out, glancing back up at you. You fiddled with your fingers nervously, unsure of how to speak to him, "Can we sit?" He asked after a second and you nodded quickly. You turned and walked towards the altar, sitting on the front row. You sat your bible next to you as you turned to face him, crossing your legs together.

"What do you want to pray about?" You asked, resting your hand against the side of his face. He faced you, mirroring your position. You thought that he looked far too large for the tiny pew. His shirt was unbuttoned in the manner that it always was. You found your eyes drawn to the necklace on his tanned skin and the blonde chest hair that peaked out from his blue shirt.

"My sins," Billy cocked an eyebrow, shaking his foot as he spoke. His movements were causing the pew to shake lightly, "I've drank, cursed, fucked. You know, all of that stuff." You turned away from his intense gaze, not liking how he cursed in the church. You didn't necessarily need all of that information.

"Maybe you should wait to speak to a preacher over that?" You could think of your father's gleeful face now, thinking of how he would be proud to bring another man like Billy to God's light.

“I don’t want to speak to a priest, I want to speak to you.” He reached across the pew, taking your soft hand in his large one. You stared, looking at how your hands connected. You thought of praying suddenly, trying to remove the thoughts that were clouding your mind. There were times you wanted to be like the other girls and have a boyfriend, but you knew your father would simply tell you to focus on God's love instead.

"Do you want me to write you down a prayer then?" You asked him, your skin burning as his thumb rubbed soft circles against you. You breathed in deeply, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. You pushed your legs closer together, feeling a warmth growing between your legs and shame rush into your chest.

"Maybe you could show me how to do it first? I'm so lost, I'll just follow your lead." He explained. You didn't know how to describe it, but his blue eyes looked darker than usual. You blamed it on the dim lights in the church. You didn't want to risk turning them on and having your father yell at you for running up the light bill.

"Over here, then." You stood, ignoring the wetness that was growing between your legs. You'd have to pray for your own sins later when you were finished with Billy. You walked to the alter, looking at the velvet red cushion that your father had spent so much money on. Billy stood close behind you that his warmth was seeping into you.

"Is he going to watch us?" He asked, sounding almost bitter as he motioned towards the very large cross with Jesus hanging from it. You smiled kindly, nodding as you watched his reaction. You were sure it was odd to see, gruesome even, but you knew it was a reminder to everyone of what Jesus had gone through to save people from their sins.

"Okay," You knelt at the altar, looking up at the blonde boy as he lingered above you, "Sit, with me." You smiled sweetly, completely unaware of the way he huffed and seemed to be growing irritated with you. You were too excited to share something with him that you were so passionate about. Not only that, but you would be saving him from damnation.

You flipped your bible open in front of you, referencing John 3:16 as it stared up at you in a golden hue. It was your favorite quote and the only time you actually allowed yourself to write on your bible. You thought of it as too holy to decimate but allowed yourself the pleasure to do so with this one quote.

"I think I should get behind you, that way I can mirror how you sit." You furrowed your eyebrows confused. You didn't understand how he wouldn't be able to copy how you were sitting by looking at you, but you believed him, nonetheless. Your breath hitched a bit in your chest and your body grew warm as he sat behind you. You moved your knees further apart as he nestled his knees next to yours and reached around to link his large hands over your own. You weren't sure you should be feeling this way in the house of the lord.

"Alright," Your voice was shaky as you spoke up again, ignoring the warm feeling growing inside your stomach. You glanced over your shoulder, noticing how intensely he was watching you. You felt like a trapped bunny suddenly and he was the big bad wolf. You exhaled, turning away and ignoring the picture of Mother Mary that seemed to be judging you. You reminded yourself that nothing you were doing was wrong, "Dear Heavenly father-," You began as you bowed your head and closed your eyes. One of Billy's hands moved away from yours, but you ignored it as you thought of the way your father prayed so powerfully and tried to mirror his words.

"We come to you praying for forgiveness of our sins," You continued, ignoring the rustling sounds that Billy was making behind you, "Billy comes to you, exhausted and needing your guidance to right his wrongs." Billy made a sound behind you, and you felt your eyebrows raise but kept your eyes shut. You were slightly worried but then remembered he had come to you for assistance. You reminded yourself of how eager he sounded to learn to pray earlier. You hadn't allowed him to smoke either, perhaps he was acting out of nerves.

"Billy invites you into his life-," Your voice caught in your throat as you felt a slight breeze underneath your skirt, feeling it lift above your thighs. You gulped hard, too lost for a second on the shivers that crossed your skin before you snapped your eyes open, "What are you doing?" You rushed out, turning to look at him.

"Praying with you," He replied simply as his hand toyed with the hem on your skirt. You felt your mouth turning dry. It had been so long since you had been touched in this way. It brought shame to you as you thought of the previous incident. One night at church camp was all it took for your father to think the worst of you. You had spent many evenings like this, on your knees repenting for what you had done in the dark, "What's wrong?" He asked oblivious as his other hand moved from your clutched fingers and traced the exposed section of your thighs. You gaped, feeling more warmth rush between your legs. You hoped he wouldn't raise your skirt too far to see the wet patch that had formed on your panties.

"This isn't praying," You responded quickly but were unable to push him away. Your body seemed to purr against him, urging for more of his touch as his fingers dipped under your skirt and near your panty line. You burned in shame as your hips moved forward to their own accord, "Billy." You warned as his chest vibrated against your back as he laughed. He pressed up against you and you could feel a hardness against your backside. You fought everything in your power to grind back against it as you remembered where you were, what you were doing.

"We're worshipping God, aren't we?" He rested his cheek against yours and you could feel the tickle of his mustache against your skin as he turned to speak to you. He smelt of smoke and mint, "What are we doing wrong?" You knew exactly what you were doing wrong as his hands curved over your hips and ground his bulge against you. You whined, overly enjoying how good it felt.

"You're praying?" You looked at him for reassurance, watching how his blue eyes held onto you. You felt nervous, but ultimately believed him. Was there really a written doctrine on how you were supposed to pray? You realized you'd have to ask your father later. Perhaps this was completely okay as long as it done in prayer.

"I'm praying for my forgiveness," Billy confirmed, letting the material of your skirt rest against your back as his hands traced over your backside. His fingers gripped the hem of your panties, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You didn't have any protests as he slid them down your thighs, "Keep praying for me. You don't want me to go to hell, do you?" He drew you away from your sinful thoughts and feelings. You blinked back as you looked at the words of the bible in front of you, unsure of where to begin again.

"Billy invites you into his life," You repeated again, taking a shaky breath as he rubbed the bare skin of your backside. You closed your eyes tightly, ignoring the sound of plastic tearing, "To fill the emptiness in him and make him w-whole." The gasp caught on your words as you felt pressure between your thighs as Billy slid his hard cock inside of you. He fit into you perfectly and you felt as if you were putty in his hands. The sounds that left your mouth was pathetic as your pussy squeezed around his cock, urging for more of him. Your hips rocked forward against the altar, elbows digging into your bible and curling up the delicate pages as he bottomed out in you. Moans left you breathlessly as you shook your head, trying to find the words to speak again. He pushed all the way forward, bottoming out inside of you as his balls pressed up against your bottom. He grunted in your ear, lips ghosting across your skin. It was sinful, it was pleasurable.

"Help him to understand your grace, your mercy," You squeaked out as he dragged his hips out slowly before pushing back into you. It felt so good, so good that you were unsure you'd feel anything like this again. You were having a hard time thinking of God when all you could focus on was the drag of his cock inside of your fluttering walls, "Your peace." You finished as you rested your head against your enclosed hands as Billy rocked into you. The grip on your hips was tight as he held you steady. Your knees were burning from digging into and slightly dragging along the hardwood floors. You began to pray for more, to never ever go a day where you wouldn't feel Billy's cock inside of you.

"Fuck," Billy's curse drew you from your thoughts and you felt your mouth open in horror as your conscience overtook your lust. You were letting Billy fuck you on your knees against the praying altar, "You're not so pious now, are you?" His warm breath tickled against your neck as you stared up the large cross that was hanging proudly above the two of you. You trembled against him, your thighs shaking as his cock rubbed against the bundle of nerves inside of you.

"Wrong," You moaned out, your hips pinning against the altar as he drilled into you, his hands gripping your waist and shoulder harshly as he kept you still. Not that you would purposely move away anyways. Your pussy was wrapped around him tightly, coating him in your wetness as you begged for more, "Billy, this is so wrong." You pleaded but you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to continue, to bring you over the edge. Praying had never been this pleasurable before.

“How could this be bad if we’re with the lord right now?” Billy hummed from behind you. Your hands were linked together so tightly that they were turning white from the pressure. Your elbows were digging into the red cushion of the alter as you stared up at the portrait of Jesus hanging above the two of you. You prayed for forgiveness silently, hoping he would understand this one moment of lust.

"It's wrong," You replied weakly, a squeal leaving your mouth as he pulled his cock out until only his tip remained before slamming back into you. He laughed as his lips traced over the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, "F-Forgive me lord." You pleaded, begged even as your body responded differently from what your mind was saying. You knew this was wrong, completely forbidden but you couldn't help how your body was reacting.

It felt so incredible. Your body felt as if it was lifting slowly into the air, warped in pleasure as Billy bent you down harder over the altar. Your hands were still crossed, and you could just barely hear the sound of paper tearing from being pulled against your skin over the sound of your skin slapping together. His rhythm was brutal, and you responded just as eagerly to him, coating his cock with your slick. The sounds that left your mouth that begged him for more, pleaded for him to never stop making her feel this good.

You could remember the way people reacted to your father, cheering him on and praising him during his service. You had never heard anyone sound the way you did at the moment when they responded to God. Billy was drawing out feelings and sounds from you that you didn't think were possible.

"Look at you," He mocked, smacking your cheek lightly, "So fucking desperate for my cock. What would your daddy say if he saw us?" You whined, licking the drool from the corner of your mouth as his cock repeatedly hit against your g-spot. You were so wet, drenching his dick so badly that every time he pulled out it was easier to push back into you and go that much further. Your toes were curling as you cried out.

"He'd be so mad," You whined pathetically, a gasp leaving your mouth as Billy wrapped a large hand around your throat. You moaned when he squeezed softly, tugging your head back so he could lick at your parted lips. It felt so dirty, so wrong as his wet tongue slid inside your mouth. You were desperate, rutting back against him as you opened your mouth wider for him to explore, "Oh God." You took the lords name in vain as Billy swatted at your ass.

"Oh, the poor preacher would be so disappointed in you," Billy tsked as he pulled his mouth away. His cheeks were flushed, lips red and eyes dilated as he spoke full of bitterness, "Knowing his daughter was such a sinner. Letting a stranger fuck, her in his church." He spit out and you turned your head in shame, not liking how his words affected you. They went straight to your core, making you clench around him as his movements became more rapid. For the first time, you didn't understand how something so wrong could feel so good. You felt as if you had been made to be forced upon your knees and fucked in this manner.

“Please stop talking,” You whimpered out, unsure if you could take any more of his words as you felt your stomach muscles tightening together. Your hips were rocking back against him with such urgency, such deprivation as your knuckles turned even whiter, “Billy!” You yelled out as he reached between your legs, rubbing harshly against the bud there that had been begging for attention.

He pulled his hand away quickly before swiftly smacking your pussy. You yelped, the force of his movements pushing you deeper onto his hard cock. You blubbered, moaning as the sensation from his slap traveled across your pussy. It was so embarrassing, but you could feel yourself growing wetter from his actions.

"I don't listen to slutty little preacher's daughters," He yanked on your hair, pulling you back and pressing you against his chest. You mewled pathetically as his cock moved into you harder and faster, "So drunk on my cock, aren't you?" He squeezed your neck, and you felt your face grow warm as the air left your lungs. You felt your eyes beginning to strain before he released his grip, and you were gasping for breath.

"Yes," You whispered out pathetically as he swatted your cheek, making your head more towards the side. You stared at where the piano was positioned in the corner, trying to focus on that instead of the way his hips were rolling into you, "Feels so good." You could feel tears forming in your eyes. You were unsure if it was from the pleasure or the shame.

Billy reached between your legs, his fingers tracing across your folds before rubbing your sensitive bud again. Your whole pussy felt sore from where he had smacked it earlier. You were whining, grinding into his hand as he played with your clit. The sound of the two of you echoed loudly inside of the church and you were sure that anyone nearby could hear your desperate cries.

It didn’t take long after that. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you, stretching you out with each thrust and hitting your g-spot mixed with his fingers rubbing your wet clit had you chanting his name as you shook around him.

"God," You cried out as you came, fully shaking and trembling around Billy as he held you in place. You were afraid that without his strong grip you would've melted into a puddle on the floor. You partially wish you would so you could slip between the tiles and disappear forever, "Oh my God." You repeated.

Billy grunted into your ear, slamming you against the altar so harshly that your hips burned and screamed in protest. You felt your toes curling as he held himself deep inside of you, before he pulled away quickly. You were stunned, shaking on your knees as he gripped your hair harshly and turned you to face him. You stared up at him from your knees, your hands still clenched together in front of you as he pumped his cock with vigor. You watched the lines of his face, watching how they curled into pleasure. His mouth fell open when he groaned loudly and released white, stringy liquid across your face.

You gasped, blinking your eyes quickly to avoid getting any of the liquid in your eyes. You felt the warm, thick goop resting on your cheek before slowly sliding off and landing on your chest, your arm, your bible. He cursed again, reaching down to wipe the goop away from your eyes. You opened your lids hesitantly.

You thought he looked like an angel. Surrounded in golden light with his cheeks red and his eyes dilated. He scooped his liquid from your face, watching you intensely before pushing it into your gaping mouth. You moaned as his thumb pressed down on your tongue. You held it there for a moment, unsure of the taste. It was odd, too salty and musky. His eyes narrowed.

"Swallow it," He commanded, holding your chin in his hand harshly. You closed your lips together but couldn't find the strength to swallow the odd taste. He frowned and pinched your nose together, cutting off your hair, "Do it." He spoke calmly and that scared you. You forced it down, furrowing your eyebrows together and wincing as you felt it settle heavily in your stomach. It almost burnt you.

"That wasn't God," Billy looked down at you, seemingly surrounded in the golden haze, "That was all me." His words left a gaping hole inside of your chest where your heart had once been pure. You could feel the darkness swirling in as it mixed with the guilt and the shame. You gaped, when he spit on you. It dripped down the side of your cheek, moving towards the curve of your lips. You hastily wiped it away, smearing the saliva onto your cheek and palm. You were repulsed with how good it made you feel.

You shook, still sitting on your burning knees as your emotions flooded inside of you. Billy seemed to be enjoying how conflicted you looked at the moment. You had to pull yourself away from his gaze as your eyes searched the altar for some kind of relief. You looked back, gasping as you looked down at your ruined bible. Pages were torn and ink was smeared from the drool that had left your lips. There was a large puddle of his liquid against your highlighted words. You were horrified and felt the swell of tears rising within you as you were suddenly too aware of what you had just done.

"You've damned me," You cried weakly, pathetically as Billy adjusted himself. He tilted his head, a grin ghosting across his lips as he looked down at you. Your hair messy, lips swollen and eyes red. Your knees burned as you moved to sit on your backside. Your thighs were slick from your come and your panties hung pathetically on your thighs as you tried to pull them up between your blubbering. He had taken away your faith and left you with an entirely different craving inside that you feared only he could solve, "Why?" You asked a loaded question, too full of your emotions to care. It was just as much your fault as his, but he had tempted you.

He crouched down in front of you, ignoring your rules from earlier as he lit his cigarette. You stared in horror as he blew a puff of smoke out at you. You suddenly wondered if he was the devil. The bible had spoken of Satan being so beautiful, so appealing that he could easily persuade those who were weak of faith into sinning. You realized your father had been right all along about you. You were weak. The worst thing was that you knew if Billy asked, you'd do it all over again. Despite your shame and humiliation, you would let him take you on the floor of your father's church again.

Billy cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at you as he stared at you with hardened blue eyes. You had thought that they were so pretty earlier, but now all it did was remind you of the terrible things you had done, "We're both sinners now," he mumbled, looking like he had just devoured his favorite meal, "God will forgive you if you just pray it away."

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

*

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

*

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

*

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

*

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

[delilah1990]

DUTY

PAIRING:  Rhaenyra x Northern! Reader

SUMMARY:  Y/N receives news that may affect the promise she made to the princess. Viserys finally announces who he will marry. His choice changes everything for Rhaenyra and her friends.

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:  Alternate Universe. There will be slight Rhaenyra x Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra x Daemon Targaryen, and Northern! Reader x Cregan Stark.

WARNINGS:  Angst, character death, fluff, possessiveness, slight abuse, smut, and violence

WORD COUNT:  3,769

Part 3 of Fire and Ice

It’s been six months since Queen Aemma’s passing. And though Viserys named his daughter his heir, his small council encourages him still to take a second wife. Much to Rhaenyra’s ire. While there was a small part of her that understood her father had to take a second wife, she wasn’t ready to see another woman by his side.

Y/N wishes she could offer words of comfort to her friend. But she has no experience in what the princess is going through. She never knew her own mother, and her father never had to remarry. His wife had already bore him a son before dying.  

She’s pulled away from her thoughts with the sound of a knock at her door. Y/N grants whoever it is entrance, and a servant girl enters her room with a sealed letter in hand. Instantly recognizing her house’s sigil on the melted wax, she thanks the servant and dismisses her. As soon as the servant leaves, Y/N breaks the seal and reads the letter sent from her brother.

Sister,

I hope all is well for you in Kings Landing, and that both the king and princess are recovering from their loss. All is good here at home. Your niece is a force to be reckoned with. She’s walking about always giving the nurse maids the slip. She reminds me a bit of you when you were that age. Our father is growing rather impatient with my wife and me. He’s eager for a grandson, but we are heeding the Maesters advice and waiting a year before trying for a second.  

Speaking of which, there is something I feel you should know. As of now nothing is set in stone, but that could all change in an instant and when it does, I don’t want you to be caught off guard. Father has begun to receive marriage proposals for your hand. He hasn’t considered a match yet; I believe he is waiting to see if our future child will be a boy before deciding.

I pray it does not come to that, but you should prepare yourself. I look forward to your next letter, sister. Your brother, Rob.

Just as Y/N finishes reading the letter, there is another knock on her door before it opens to reveal Alicent. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I’m heading to the Sept; Rhaenyra is coming with me. I thought you might like to come as well.”

“You know I do not worship the seven.” Y/N says as she folds the letter and places it under her sleeve. “And I hate going to the Sept, I feel as though I’m being judged every time I set foot there.”

“I was hoping you would come for Rhaenyra. It would seem she’s had a bit of a day and wishes to leave the Keep.” Alicent continues.

“She’s been having all sorts of days since her mother’s passing. There is only so much you I can do to remedy that. She must find a way to deal with what’s happening on her own.” Y/N says in a frustrated tone. Alicent immediately senses something is wrong.

“What’s happened?” She questions and Y/N waves her off. “Anytime Rhaenyra has needed us you are the first by her side, and now you speak of how she needs to figure things out on her own. That’s not like you, so I ask again Y/N. What’s happened?”

Y/N stands and approaches Alicent. “I will go with you to the Sept, but I will not enter.” Y/N makes a move to exit her chamber, but Alicent wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Taking a deep breath, Y/N turns to her friend in a more calming manner. “Nothing terrible has happened. I just received some unexpected news that I am currently processing. I just need time Alicent.”

“It sounds like you need a moment with your gods. Go, I’ll take care of Rhaenyra.” Alicent says in understanding. Y/N squeezes her hand in thanks and leaves for the Godswood.

Though the Godswood here is nothing compared to the ones at home, Y/N has found herself growing use to this one. She kneels before the great tree and bows her head.

She always knew her father would marry her off someday, it was the only way he could ever be rid of her. But when he agreed to leave her here to serve the princess, Y/N had thought perhaps he would forgo marrying her off. She shakes her head at herself for having such foolish thoughts. Rhaenyra will be angry. I promised her I’d always be there for her. It’ll be hard to keep that promise once I move away from King’s Landing. Y/N thinks to herself.

The crunching of leaves interrupts her inner thoughts, she turns and spots the king approaching her. She stands to curtsy, but he raises his hand. “Forgive me, Lady Y/N. I did not mean to interrupt your prayer.”

“You didn’t your grace. I was thinking more than I was praying.” Y/N admits.

“I wanted to get your opinion on something.” Viserys says almost nervously.

“I’m not sure what opinion I could offer your grace.”

“It’s about Rhaenyra. She doesn’t speak much, at least to me anyway. I’ve been told I should probably go to her, that if I did, she would open herself up to me. What do you think?”

Y/N is unsure what she should say to the king. Normally she would just be honest and speak her mind, but she did not want to risk offending the king. Sensing her inner struggle Viserys reassures her. “Please speak freely. Northerns are known for their honesty, and that is what I need right now.”

“I think you both need to open yourselves up to each other. You share the same pain, yet instead of coming together, you’re distancing yourselves.” Viserys hums at this. “You both just need to speak with one another. Talking often goes a long way.”

“Thank you, Lady Y/N., That is wise advice.” Viserys says grateful.

“Happy to help your grace.” He gives her a small smile before departing the Godswood. Y/N turns around and places a hand over the face in the middle of the trunk. She closes her eyes and attempts to actually pray this time.  

After spending a couple of hours at the Godswood, Y/N heads back to her chamber, where she runs into Alicent. “How was the Sept?”

“Good, I think it helped the princess a bit.” Alicent responds.

“That’s good, I’ll check in with her tomorrow…I’m sorry for my behavior earlier.” Y/N apologizes.

“Have you sorted it out yet?” Alicent asks.

“Not quite.” Y/N answers honestly. Alicent takes hold of both her hands.

“Whatever it is that is plaguing you, you do not have to suffer it alone. I am here for you, and though she has a lot going on, I know Rhaenyra will be there for you too.” Y/N pulls Alicent into a hug in thanks and bids her goodnight. Perhaps by morning she’d be more open to speaking with her friends. For now, she still needs time to herself.

The next morning Y/N decides to seek Rhaenyra out. She knows she won’t be able to keep to herself much longer. She walks around the Red Keep until she hears two familiar voices speaking. As she walks closer towards them, she realizes the voices belong to Rhaenyra and Rhaenys. “I did not ask for a lesson in politics. I asked whether this bothers you.” Y/N hears Rhaenys say.

“Laena is your daughter, Princess. Does it bother you?”

“Of course it does. But I understand the order of things. I’m not sure you do.”

Laena must be a potential candidate to be the king’s wife. Y/N realizes.

“If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you’re failing, Princess.”

“Quite the opposite. Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else’s, your father will remarry sooner than late. His new wife will produce new heirs, and chances are, better than not, that one of those will be male. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir, not you. Because that is the order of things.”

“When I’m Queen, I will create a new order.” Rhaenys chuckles softly.

“How I wish that could be, Rhaenyra. But the men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it.”

“They denied you, Princess Rhaenys. “The Queen Who Never Was.” But they bent the knee to me and called me heir to the throne.”

“Do you remind your father’s men of that as you carry their cups? Here is the hard truth, which no one else has the heart to tell you. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne. And your father is no fool.”

As soon as she hears footsteps walking away, Y/N steps out from her hiding spot. Luckily for her it was Rhaenys who walked off and not Rhaenyra. “Did you hear all that?” The princess questions.

“Some of it, yes.” Y/N answers as she leans across the rail facing the royal garden.

“Do you think she’s right?” Rhaenyra questions.

“I think that we both know she is.” Rhaenyra joins her at the railing. She clasps both her hands and lays her head on top of them.

“I made a suggestion to the council yesterday, a good one I thought, and they looked at me as if I was a dragon flying without a head. When I tried to give my father further insight at dinner, he dismissed me. How can I get him to listen to me, to see me as his heir and not is little girl?”

“You want your father to see you as his heir, then you need to start acting like it.” Rhaenyra looks at her, confused by her statement. “Your father is the King, and every king needs a Queen.”

“I know that.”

“You may know that, but you’ve yet to accept it. Why do you think your father hasn’t chosen a bride yet?” Rhaenyra begins to consider her words. Y/N cups her cheeks in her hands and lifts her face up to look at her. “Your father has to marry, just as you will someday soon.” The princess closes her eyes and leans into Y/N’s touch. “If you cannot accept his duty to the realm, how is he to accept you as his heir?”

“And what of the council?” Rhaenyra questions as she opens her eyes.

“First, stop filling their cups. That is the job for a cup bearer, not the heir. Second, remind the council that you are no ordinary princess, you are a dragon. And dragons don’t take shit from sheep, they eat them.”

Rhaenyra can’t help but laugh at Y/N’s statement. As soon as her laughter dies down, she turns back to face the royal garden. There is a moment of comfortable silence between them before Rhaenyra turns to her friend. Alicent had mentioned the day before that Y/N had received unexpected news and that she needed time to herself.

She didn’t mind granting her friend that. Y/N has always been there for her whenever she needed, but now it’s her friend that is in need, and Rhaenyra wants to be there for her. “I can feel you staring princess.” Y/N turns to her with an amused look.

“Alicent mentioned there was something going on with you.” Rhaenyra simply states, and Y/N knows she won’t be able to keep the news to herself.” She reaches for the letter she’s been carrying around and hands it to the princess. “I must warn you; you will not like it.”

Rhaenyra takes the parchment and unfolds it. She smiles at first, but as she reads further her smile begins to fade and is soon replaced by a frown. She hands the letter back to Y/N and considers every word.

“I could speak with my father, maybe he…” Y/N interrupts before Rhaenyra can finish.

“He will not interfere, not with this.” Rhaenyra shakes her head and then considers something else.

“Even if you do marry and produce a son, that son would be heir to your husband, not your father.” The princess points out.

“If I am able to produce a son, then I can produce another. If my brother does not have a son of his own by then, my second son would be his heir.” Rhaenyra lets out a sigh of defeat. “There’s still time, I’m not leaving anytime soon.” Y/N says in comfort.

“No, but you could. Even if your brother manages a son, it’ll only delay the inevitable. Eventually, you will have to marry.” Y/N doesn’t say anything, she knows Rhaenyra is right. She leans her elbows against the rail, and Rhaenyra joins her. Placing her head on her shoulder, while Y/N leans her head on top of hers.  

Later that evening, in Y/N’s chamber, she lies in the tub reading her brother’s letter again. She knows wither her brother has a son or not, she will eventually marry. Letting out a heavy sigh, she stands from the tub and dries herself off. Once in her nightgown, she sits at her desk and writes a response letter.

Dear Brother,

It gladdens me to know that my niece is taking after me. When she comes of age, I’ll have to teach her the bow and arrow.

As for my possible future betrothal, I thank you for your warning. When you send your next letter, I ask that you include what suitor’s father is considering, that way I can thoroughly prepare myself.

Give my good sister my best and give my niece a kiss from me. Love your sister, Y/N.

Y/N roles the small parchment paper and melts wax to seal it. Just as stamps her family sigil over the wax, Rhaenyra enters her room with a burst of energy. “I did it, I did it!”

“What did you do that couldn’t wait until morning?” Y/N asks.

Rhaenyra sits on the long couch in the center of the room and pats down the spot next to her. Y/N sits next to her and gives the princess her full attention. “So, shortly after our talk, an emergency council meeting was called. Daemon apparently stole the dragon egg meant to be my brother’s, fled to Dragonstone with a whore, and took most of the City Watch with him.”

Y/N is speechless at first, until her mind processes what the princess just told her. “And how exactly do you fit into all that?”

“My father sent Otto to confront my uncle and bring back the dragon egg. I knew Otto would not be able to retrieve it, and that there would be bloodshed. Daemon and Otto despise each other.” Y/N nods along in agreement. “So, I got on Syrax and flew to Dragonstone. Confronted my uncle and safely retrieved the egg.”

“That’s quite impressive.” Y/N comments.

“That’s not all. My father found out and summoned me. He scolded me at first, but once he realized I went to Dragonstone and retrieved the egg without bloodshed. He calmed down. And we spoke, actually spoke. We talked of my mother, and how her death affected us both. About how he must now take a new wife.”

“And what about your status as heir?” Y/N questions.

“He has no intention as replacing me as heir, even if his new wife gives him a boy.” Rhaenyra answers with a smile.

“That’s good, that’s really good.” Y/N says, happy for her friend.

“I think he intends on marrying my cousin, Laena Valaryon, he makes his announcement tomorrow. Will you come with me to the small council?”

“Is that allowed?” Y/N questions. She had never been to a small council meeting, much less been inside the small council chamber.

“You will be accompanying the heir to the iron throne, of course it’s allowed. Alicent will be there as well.”

“Then it will be my honor.” Rhaenyra smiles at Y/N’s answer and stands to leave but a thought enters her mind. Something she had been thinking about on the flight back to Kings Landing.

“As for the matter of your possible betrothal…I’ve decided that no matter how far North you move, you’ll only ever be a dragon ride away from Kings Landing.” Y/N smiles widely at this and nods in agreement. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Rhaenyra then places a kiss on Y/N’s cheek and exits her room with a satisfied grin on her face. Y/N’s face on the other hand, is bright red.

Inside the council room the next morning, Visery’s is the first one to arrive. He’s looking out the window, hoping his announcement will go smoothly. He already knows not everyone will agree with his decision, but he knows his choice is what’s good for the realm and himself.

At the sound of the council doors opening, he turns to greet his council members. His daughter is also present, along with her friend lady Y/N who stands beside her. He also notices lady Alicent has entered the council chamber with her father.  

“Good morrow, my lords.” Viserys greets, and they each greet him back. “I have decided to take a new wife.” He looks over at his daughter, ensuring she will be ok with this. She gives him a small smile and a nod of approval. “I intend to marry…” He looks over at Alicent, when she realizes he intends to choose her as his next wife, she has a shocked look on her face. “The lady Alicent Hightower, before springs end.”

With exception to Alicent, Corlys, Rhaenyra, and Y/N. Everyone else seems to be happy about the outcome. Corlys slowly rises from his seat and looks the king in the eye. “This is an absurdity. My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm.”

“And I am your king.” Viserys points out. Unable to remain in the room any longer, Rhaenyra exits the chamber. She had accepted the fact that her father would remarry, but she had not realized he had intended on marrying her childhood friend. “Rhaenyra.” Visery’s calls after her, but she ignores her. Alicent and Y/N quickly run after her, following her into the Godswood. The moment Rhaenyra sees Alicent, her blood boils.

“How long?” Alicent only looks at her. “How long have you hidden this from me?” Rhaenyra asks again. It’s hard for Alicent to admit, but she knows she has no other choice but to tell the truth.

“My father sent me to console him. After your mother…” Y/N turns to Alicent in shock. Alicent had been secretly meeting with the king since the queen’s death. Rhaenyra realizes this as well; she also confirms Y/N had no knowledge of Alicent’s secret meeting with her father. While she is thankful, it doesn’t alleviate her anger at Alicent.

“Whore.” Rhaenyra accuses, Y/N immediately turns towards the princess.

“Rhaenyra.” Y/N scolds but is ignored.

“You seduced him.” The princess continues with her accusation.

“No…we only talked…about history, about your mother and mine, about you…never about a marriage.” Alicent says in defense of herself.

“You were seeing him in his chambers. What did you think would happen?” Rhaenyra retorts.

“It was at my father’s command.” Alicent says weakly, only fueling Rhaenyra’s rage.

“You should have refused him!” The princess shouts.

“That is enough. This is not a conversation to be had out here. Let us take a moment…” Y/N’s attempt to calm everyone down, and move the conversation elsewhere is interrupted by Alicent.

“Not all of us have such an easy way doing only what we wish, only when we wish it.” Alicent snaps back, instantly regretting it. “I had no choice.” She says meekly.

Rhaenyra’s emotions alternate between anger, accusation, and hurt. “They cannot do this. I am the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the Realms Delight, Heir to the Iron Throne. I shall annul it…” Rhaenyra stops when she realizes her friend is silent, that she has made no real protest. “Is this what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Alicent says in defeat as she turns from her friends and walks away. When Alicent is out of sight, Y/N turns to Rhaenyra, who has her head turned away and her hands wrapped around herself.

“You should go to your room princess.” Y/N suggests.

“Will you be joining me?” Rhaenyra questions.

“I need to check on Alicent first, then I will stop by your room.” Rhaenyra scoffs at her. Y/N approaches the princess and places a hand on her shoulder. “She could not refuse her father Rhaenyra, just as I can’t. And deep down beneath your anger, you know that.” Rhaenyra does not acknowledge her, she simply heads to her room, but Y/N knows the princess agrees. Even if she won’t admit it out loud.

She heads inside the Keep, towards Alicent’s chambers and knocks on her door. There is no answer. “It’s me Alicent.” She does not hear a response. Y/N begins to think she may have gone to her father’s chamber, but then hears Alicent softly call to her. She enters her room and sees her friend sitting on the long couch. Eyes read, and face stained with tears. Y/N immediately sits beside her and pulls her into a hug.

“She hates me.” Alicent sobs.

“She doesn’t hate you, but it will take her a while to get over this.” Y/N says honestly. The two girls sit in silence. Y/N continues to hold on to Alicent as tears continue to fall down her face. She has terrible feeling their friendship may not last, and that the worst has yet to come.

***Here is part three of Fire and Ice. It’s a little bit shorter than the first two, hope you still enjoy it anyway. Thank you for all the likes so far, it motivates me to write more. Please feel free to comment as well. I’d love to hear your opinions on the story so far.***

[theship-thewalrus]

can i request the alternate ending to this fic

considering in my thoughts after reader died i don't think aegon will even let rhaenyra touch a strand of the baby and im also want to see jace and luke reaction jejdjejejj

Hi anons! I put both of these together, hope you don't mind! I must say I love some sadness. Hope its what you are looking for :)

aegon ii targaryen x niece! wife! reader

pretty much the ask

word count: 1034 words reading time: about 6 minutes warnings: death, le sadness

Part 1 || Part 2 || Ending 1 || Ending 3 || Ending 4 || Headcanon 1 || Headcanon 2

The hurried footsteps of the small group echoed through the hall. Unlike before it was deathly silent, no more did your screams bounce off the walls, your voice was no longer heard and it was as though the world stopped moving. Not hearing you anymore made Aegon speed up, jogging past Rhaenyra and her sons.

The doors were thrown over with little regard to whoever may be close to them. Aegon's eyes roam around the room before they finally land on his wife. The first thing he noticed was the dark red blood that covered the white of the sheets. His mother's sobs filled his ears next, his eyes drifting to the side of the bed where her face was covered by her hands. But it was clear she was crying by how her body moved with each cry. He then registered how pale you were, almost the color of the sheet.

No words were uttered for him to understand what happened. The maesters had failed you, they allowed you to die. The man flew to your side, hands clutching yours as though his will alone would bring you back. But you were cold to the touch, your usual warmth had left you. Tears began to well up in his eyes as his brain began to realise what happened. "no...no, no, no, no," the words poured out of his mouth like a string of prays.

When Rhaenrya saw the scene in front of her she broke, tears welled up in her eyes but they did not fall. Her fists clenched by her side as she takes in the two cryings next to you. Her sweet child, her little girl, was gone. She remembered the day you were born, how she held you in her arms as you wailed. How she swore to protect you from all the worries and pressures of the world. Yet she had failed you, her only daughter. You died thinking she hated you, that you no longer held a place in her heart. All because she was too stubborn to speak to you.

Jacaerys was beside himself with grief, like his mother he had not spoken to you since arriving. He believed you slighted them in some way, siding with his mother instead of his little sister. He should have not cared about this stupid rivalry, you were his sister above all else. He felt like he failed you. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unlike his mother, he held no reservations about crying in front of these people. He would come up beside Alicent, not wanting to get caught up in Aegon's grief.

Similarly to his older brother, Lucerys was distraught. He stood there frozen in place, simply looking at your pale and bloodied body. Despite being so young the boy had witnessed so much death, yet it never got easier. Especially when he gazed at his sister, only adding to the bodies.

Alicent lifted her head from her hands to see Jacaerys standing there. The woman sniffled softly, standing up from her stead before moving over to the other side where her son sat. Jacaerys took Alicent's seat, grabbing onto his sister's cold and limp hand. A delicate hand began to rub Aegon's back, trying her best to comfort her distraught and broken son.

A high-pitched wail took everyone's attention away from the bed for a moment. The door opens and shows a timid and frightened maid holding a newborn child. It had been washed and wrapped up in a blanket, the maid trying her best to calm it. The Maester instructed her to show the child to the Queen and its father, but there was no indication that so many people would be there. The little boy in her arms was crying his heart out, little face contorted and fists balled up. Whisps of white hair adored his little head, the hair was still slightly damp.

Rhaenyra was the closest to the maid and the first person to move. Wanting to see her grandson, to hold him in her arms and maybe even take him away from here. To raise the child herself and away from the claws of the vultures here. But Aegon shoot up, face pulled into a murderous glare. "Don't you dare touch him!" His voice shocked everyone, the maid nearly jumping out of her skin. Rhaenyra stops in her tracks, her hand returning to her side. Turning to her half-brother she spoke loudly, in order to be heard over the small child. "He is my daughter's son, my bloo-" Aegon marched forwards anger blazing in his eyes. "He is my son! My blood! My wife's child!" He screamed, the fire inside him burning brightly.

Everyone was taken aback Lucerys moved to his mother's side, not only to get a better look at his nephew but to also support her. Jacaerys took longer to move to his mother's side, not wanting to leave you just yet. He was not ready to let you go just yet, to leave you cold and alone. But he joined his brother and mother. Alicent moved to her son's side, standing behind him just slightly.

Rhaenyra's eyes burn at Aegon, but she would not fight him right now. Not in front of her daughter's body and certainly not in front of your child. Glancing at you she moves across the room quickly, bending down slightly and placing a small kiss on your forehead. A wordless goodbye and display of the affection she should have been showing you all along. A single tear slips past her eyes and lands on your forehead. "My sweet child, I have always loved you. I pray to the gods you knew that." Her voice was soft and kind, pouring her grief into her words. Wishing her words could bring you back, even just for a moment so she could tell you how much she loved you.

"I will see my grandson. Perhaps not today, but soon." The woman says power is portrayed in her voice. Moving to the door her sons follow. Leaving Aegon and Alicetn along with you and your son. There was an underlying threat in her voice, one that may come soon.