#poor(?) lady only wants to help (and cry)

[val-of-the-north]

Interesting find regarding the Church of the Deep

While trying to build an argument for Caitha possibly being a wife of Gwyn, I accidentally stumbled upon a little detail that I was not really expecting, but that puts a few things into perspective.

The description of Caitha's Chime claims that the Archbishop concealed its existence because it was considered anathema... however, that didn't seem to make much sense to me, as the one Archbishop mentioned in item descriptions is that of Carim, whom Morne became an apostle of. The thing is, Morne was first a follower of Caitha, and the clergy of Carim (which is part of the Way of White) was taught her miracles from him with little to no problem, so her chime being hidden seemed strange.

So I did something I've grown accustomed to doing because of my time trying to read into the lore of these games: consult the original text and see if there had been an oversight. I used this resource here to do it [x]. It features the Chinese (left), Japanese (middle), and English text from all three games, I recommend checking it out if you are curious about this stuff. Anyways...

In Japanese, the kanji used for the Archbishop of Carim is 大司教 (Daishikyō), which makes sense.

On the other hand, the Archbishop mentioned in the description of Caitha's Chime is 大主教 (Dai shukyō), which is the same kanji used every time the Archdeacons of the Deep are mentioned.

So that explains the apparent discrepancy! The one who concealed Caitha's Chime is one of the three Archdeacons of the Deep, not the Archbishop of Carim. This lines up with stuff we can see in-game as well. The Cathedral of the Deep seems to have been dedicated to Caitha at some point, as it prominently features statues of a weeping woman, with many of the ones found inside the building itself having been covered up by red cloth. One of them, found in the Chapel of Cleansing, was even hidden behind an altar that depicts the Deacons of the Deep, which clearly wasn't there before.

But then, how did the localizers miss this bit? Well, you see, both of those kanjis are extremely similar as you might have noticed... and that's because they both mean Archbishop! And here lies the discovery: 大司教, used for the Archbishop of Carim, refers to an Archbishop of the Catholic Church.

Meanwhile, 大主教, used for the Archdeacons of the Deep, refers to an Archbishop of other denominations, but mainly those of the Orthodox Church.

This revelation explains a few things about the Church of the Deep, like how it's both connected and separate from the Way of White, which according to the way its Archbishop is identified, is inspired by the Catholic Church... and I mean, the fact that Sulyvahn is literally the pope seals the deal for me. It might also help explain Aldrich potentially having a wife in Rosaria, and how he was allowed to have as many children as he did. From what I was told, Orthodox Priests can get married and have children after all.

Archdeacon Royce also genuinely looks the part. The Orthodox clergy is encouraged to grow out their beards, unlike most of the other Christian faiths.

Does this imply Aldrich had a big beard as well? Or perhaps, being the... messy eater that he is, it benefitted him to be shaved clean? I'll leave the pondering to you...

When I first shared this discovery with my friend @katyspersonal, who lives in an Orthodox country, she was quite surprised, but she almost immediately came around to the idea and even told me it fit Aldrich's vibe quite well... so yeah, I'm trusting her judgment on this one lol.

And there it is, a little detail that was understandably lost in translation, but that could shape our understanding of the Church of the Deep a little better.

[pearlymel]

A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[sansaorgana]

— BEDROOM HYMNS

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Queen Alicent Hightower x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Your sister-in-law wishes for you to become one of her ladies-in-waiting but you become so much more. Things complicate when your husband comes to visit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from Florence + The Machine song. Alicent is a lesbian in this fic but she's also very conflicted about it. Reader is 100% bisexual. I wanted to write this fic for some time now because I have a crush on Alicent ever since Season One so yeah... Here we go... 😩😈

WARNINGS — cheating, homosexuality seen as something *wrong* (by Alicent), mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut – tiiiiny bit in the beginning)

WORD COUNT — 6,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BEDROOM HYMNS

You moved away from between her trembling legs after a cry of pleasure muffled by her own hand that she had covered her mouth with. Alicent’s juices were dripping down your chin when you smirked at her and looked up to meet her big brown eyes. Those soft big brown eyes that you adored more than anything. You had always adored them. So full of sadness and softness and you had never wanted anything but to make her feel better.

“Have I pleased you?” You asked while peppering her soft inner thighs with your kisses although you knew the answer already. Her husband had no idea how to please her.

The Queen only nodded and looked away. Poor Alicent – she always felt bad and guilty after the peak had already been reached. The sudden realisation of her sin was soul-crushing but the tension and desire had been too great to ignore them. She deserved the relief and you did not see anything bad about it.

“How many times do we have to do this?” You sighed and lied next to her in her bed. Your fingertips caressed her sides and your lips attached themselves to the crook of her neck, smelling all the scented oils in her hair. She was The Queen of the Realm and she was pampered like no other Lady. “There is no shame in this.”

“There is a sin,” Alicent turned her head around to finally meet your gaze. She raised her hand to nervously play with the seven-pointed star pendant on her sweaty chest.

“Why?” You bit on your lip and caressed her auburn locks out of her face.

“It is betrayal,” she frowned as if she was getting frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“It would have been if you lied with a man,” you explained and kissed her cheek before laying on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“I should find your vague idea of morality perplexing,” Alicent pointed out and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her confession.

“But you do not and thank Gods for that,” you rolled your eyes with a smirk.

A silence occurred as Alicent kept playing nervously with the pendant between her fingers and you were staring at the ceiling and counting all the cracks.

“What kind of husband is my brother?” She asked suddenly and you turned your head around to look at her again.

“A good one,” you admitted, feeling nearly guilty for that because you knew why she was asking – her husband was not good. Not to her and not to her children.

“Why are you doing this then?” Alicent asked.

It was obvious why her brother was on her mind now. He would arrive at King's Landing any day now. You couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again after a few months of being apart and you only wished he had taken your son with him but he could not. Robyn was the eldest son and he was supposed to stay in Oldtown. He had just become a squire and leaving his knight for a few long weeks would not be advised, therefore you had to go on missing your boy. Day after day as if he was a burning hole in your chest. Mothers would always miss their sons, you assumed.

“To kill the time,” you shrugged your arms, not wanting to reveal how much Alicent meant to you and for how long. “And to help you. You are my friend and I love you,” you confessed.

Alicent always loved Princess Rhaenyra more. Your father was a Master of Coin in King Viserys’ Small Council and you were growing up together – three girls running around happily. Or rather – two girls following the Princess like two overjoyed puppies. Rhaenyra was the centre of everything for you and not only because she was the Princess but also because she meant everything to Alicent. No matter how much effort you were putting into making Alicent like you more, you were destined to fail for she always was choosing Rhaenyra over you.

It made you grow bitter towards The Princess but never towards Alicent. You were blaming yourself – you had to become more and try harder perhaps and maybe then you’d earn more than just leftover crumbs of her love and friendship.

You couldn’t understand your feelings back then – why was the attraction so strong, what was making you feel so attached to the young Hightower Lady. You were the same age and yet everything she said was like a command to you. Wherever she went, you followed. Even when you felt like a burden because she so clearly would rather be left alone with Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra never minded your presence because to her you were only a pawn on the board, an ornament, an addition of no importance. So, you often witnessed the two girls laughing together, whispering, exchanging small gestures of affection. You were only watching. Observing as your heart ached.

During The Heir's Tournament you met Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s older brother. He was young then, eager to show off his abilities and make his family proud. Perhaps he did not have his sister’s big brown eyes but he had the auburn hair you loved so much about her and he had her softness about him. You were enamoured with him in no time and when he approached the royal box to greet his sister – he caught your eye and you caught his and for that moment when your eyes met, you felt butterflies all over your body.

Ser Gwayne Hightower received your favour on that day and the sparkles of joy in your eyes while you were throwing the wreath at him were very obvious to your father and to his as well. You could not know that then but they exchanged meaningful looks for a short moment.

Even though Gwayne lost the duel with Prince Daemon Targaryen, he did not lose your affection. In fact, witnessing him nearly winning and losing only because Prince Daemon chose to play dirty – it only solidified your feelings. Ser Gwayne was a righteous man, a chivalrous knight and a brave one, too. It took lots of courage to face Prince Daemon Targaryen himself.

Gwayne was carried away with his face covered in blood and dirt while his mind was filled with thoughts of you – of losing your favour and your interest. However, you hurried to his side right after the tournament ended to make sure he was fine. And at the sight of you – he truly was fine again.

You were only ten and five but you knew already that Ser Gwayne was the only man you could see yourself being married off to. Thankfully, your father saw that, too. Two years later you were sent to Oldtown and for the whole time in between you were exchanging letters. When Alicent was married off to King Viserys shortly after his wife’s death, you still felt bitter but not as much as you could because you mostly felt excited about your own upcoming wedding.

However, the sadness and anxiety on Alicent’s face on her wedding day were a sight you would never forget.

Years and years of the happy marriage had passed and you were still in touch with your sister-in-law because of the letters you were exchanging and her son that you and Gwayne were raising in Oldtown – Prince Daeron Targaryen. But other than that, you had your own life now to live, your own duties, your own offspring and Alicent was simply not occupying your mind as much as in your adolescent years. 

You were aware of King Viserys’ health getting worse and worse as Alicent was ruling the Kingdom in his name. The burden of responsibility was heavy and her marriage was getting more and more difficult. You couldn’t say the same of your own union – you loved Gwayne and he loved you. Just like every married couple you had your misunderstandings and disagreements but you were grateful for him every day of your life and you knew well that he felt the same towards you.

It was after breakfast on one of those days that seemed to be pretty typical in the morning and then they turned out to be life-changing for a person. Without a warning and without an ominous feeling deep in one’s gut, they just happened and changed lives.

A letter came to you from Queen Alicent and you expected nothing of great importance in it so you put it below the pile of letters you had to respond to this morning. You sat by your desk and dipped the feather in the black ink as you started to perform one of your duties as Lady Hightower, helping your husband to run Oldtown in his father’s name.

Letter after letter, until finally you were left with the last one. You opened it with a small yawn, which turned into a frown after reading Alicent’s plea and request.

“What is it?” Gwayne entered your chambers this very moment but his smile dropped at the sight of your face.

You folded the letter suddenly as if it was a secret or something dirty but it only increased your husband’s curiosity as he approached the table and raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” He repeated the question and you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to find the right words.

“It is from your sister,” you replied and looked up to meet his confused gaze. He knew about your friendship and for you to react this way at one of Alicent’s letters was simply unusual.

“Is he dead?” Was all Gwayne asked.

“No, Gods, no,” you shook your head and took a deep breath in. “Not yet,” you added.

“What is it then?” Gwayne lifted your chin up gently to make sure your eyes would still be on his. You swallowed a lump in your throat and finally decided to tell him what his sister had requested.

“Queen Alicent wishes for me to become one of her ladies-in-waiting,” you revealed and Gwayne’s confusion only grew. “She feels lonely in King’s Landing, she needs a friend by her side. Somebody she can trust.”

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne took the folded paper from your hands and read the letter himself, still standing above you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

Your own feelings were chaotic at that moment. Something in your heart wanted to run to King’s Landing at this very moment because Alicent needed you and because you wanted to make her life easier and make her happy. You had always wanted nothing but her happiness.

But you had your own duties in Oldtown and you had your husband here and your children. You could not just leave like that, could you? Especially when Oldtown was so far away from King’s Landing.

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne said again and threw the letter on your desk. “Reply to her that your Lord Husband does not agree.”

“She is your sister,” you looked up at him, pleadingly.

“Yes and I have nothing but love for her in my heart but her request is selfish,” he clenched his jaw as he looked you up and down, visibly surprised that you were not agreeing with him on this. “Why does she want to take you away from me? You are my wife.”

“Your wife – not your property,” you reminded him.

“That is debatable,” Gwayne huffed and looked away but before you could scold him, he continued with more. “Living in a different city, different castle, so far away from me… Will you still be my wife?” He turned his head around in an attempt to try to read your emotions.

“I will forever be your wife,” you stood up and took his hand into yours before placing it on your chest where your heart was. “But she needs me, Gwayne. She’s all alone there with no one by her side.”

“Father is with her,” Gwayne interrupted you. “He always favoured Alicent.”

“You do know that being favoured by him is a burden, not a prize,” you reminded. “Please, let me go. For some time at least. Until The King dies. It should not be for long and I’ll take the girls with me,” you tried to convince him as your fingers caressed his hand on your chest. “Please,” you whispered, looking up deep into his eyes.

After a long moment of silence and hesitation, your husband nodded his head reluctantly.

A few months later, you found yourself standing in the courtyard of The Red Keep, awaiting your husband’s arrival. He had a business to deal with in The Crownlands and he wanted to spend a few days with his family, too. You were caressing the creases on your dress with your hands and your teenage daughter Margaery was fixing her younger sister’s hairdo. Little Wyllow had been missing her father the most and she couldn’t wait for his arrival. In fact, she had made you and Margaery wait there since early morning and at this point you were exhausted already but you didn’t complain since you couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again either.

Even though it also felt a little weird and awkward since your mind was being flooded with memories of his sister’s body tangled with yours underneath her royal silk sheets. Her plump lips parted and soft moans escaping them, her beautiful big brown eyes hazy and filled with tears of shame and pleasure…

You were trying to shake those thoughts and images off of your head when you were interrupted by the sound of the horses approaching the gate.

“Father!” Wyllow nearly ran straight under the horse if she was not stopped by Margaery.

Your older daughter gave you a scolding look and she was right to do so because it was your duty to watch over your children, meanwhile you were distracted by the memories of dirty acts instead.

When you watched Gwayne jumping off of the horse, your heart clenched in your chest at the sight of him and you suddenly realised why Alicent was so filled with shame and guilt because now you felt them, too.

His handsome face, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you, his auburn hair reflecting in the sun… He truly was the man you loved. You just couldn’t help the fact you loved his sister, too.

“Father!” Wyllow finally was free to run into his arms and he crouched down to hug her and kiss her forehead.

“I am so happy to see you, little bird,” Gwayne cupped his daughter’s cheeks and she giggled.

He straightened himself but Wyllow clinged to his left hand so he used his right one to caress Margaery’s face lovingly.

“You’re growing fast, my love,” he pointed out.

“I am trying my best, Lord Father,” Margaery nodded her head with a smile and then she took a step back to get out of the way and let him greet you.

“Lord Husband,” you gave him a nervous and soft smile. Gwayne tilted his head a little and your heart skipped a beat. He was a very observant man but there was nothing that would give you away, right? What could it be?

“Lady Wife,” he smiled at you and took two steps ahead to be able to kiss the palm of your hand. Whatever he had noticed, he pretended it was nothing. At least for now.

“You must be exhausted,” you pointed out. “The chambers have been already prepared for you and I’m going to tell the maids to fix you a bath.”

“Does it mean we are not sharing the same chambers during my stay here?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

Margaery cleared her throat and she took Wyllow by her free hand.

“Shall we go inside now? Let our Lady Mother greet Lord Father properly,” she dragged her protesting sister behind her.

“She is becoming a fine Lady,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t help feeling that the air and water in King’s Landing are making her grow up faster. Perhaps she is spending too much time with women older than her,” you explained, clasping your hands in front of yourself as if you had no idea what to do with them. “Come with me, I am sure you want to greet your father and sister, too.”

“I do,” Gwayne followed you inside while some of the men he had taken with him were taking care of his luggage with the help of The Red Keep’s servants. “You still haven’t answered my question about the chambers,” he pointed out when you were in the staircase together.

“My darling,” you turned around abruptly, making him stop his walk. “Your chambers are close to mine, please do not get cross with me. Those past few months I have learnt to love my solitude,” you explained and Gwayne tilted his head again but he only nodded.

“Let it be then,” he only said.

With each one of your husband’s kisses and each one of his touches, each one of your reached peaks and cries of pleasure, you felt more and more purified of sin as if his body was washing away Alicent’s smell off of you. After months of not laying together, you were lost in each other for hours with caring very little about getting any sleep. You were watching the sun rise behind the window when you were too exhausted to go on as you were laying on Gwayne’s chest, drawing circles there with your fingers and his hand was playing with your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“Have you been faithful to me?” You asked casually and you could feel his muscles tensing under you.

You had no right to ask that – but he did not know of it.

“I have,” he answered. “Of course I have.”

“And if I say that the whores count, too?” You looked up playfully.

“I have been faithful to my Lady Wife,” Gwayne shook his head and you spotted a slight irritation on his face. He did not like it when his honour was being questioned – he was a knight, after all. “Why do you ask? Have you not been faithful to me?”

A shiver went down your spine at his chilling accusation.

“How can you ask me that?” You gasped.

“You have accused me first.”

“Because you are a man,” you reminded him.

“I am. And I know what men are like,” Gwayne nodded his head. “They must all be following you around – a beautiful Lady far away from her husband is like an invitation,” he finally cracked a smile, revealing that he was only jesting.

“I do not want any man but you,” you assured him as the tension left your body because you did not have to lie about it.

“That is good to know, my love,” Gwayne kissed the top of your head. “You had me worried with your cold greeting and not letting me into your chambers.”

“Are you not in my chambers now, Lord Husband?” You teased him and placed a kiss on his chest where his heart was. “And if my greeting was cold, then I owe you an apology. I spend too much time around your sister and her husband and I keep forgetting that some marriages are happy. That mine is…” You wanted to look up to meet his gaze but you couldn’t as something inside of you was stopping you.

“That is a shame,” Gwayne only said.

“It is, darling, but you are here now to remind me.”

You were sitting in the same chambers as Alicent, embroidering side by side and even though you were using no words, you found each other’s company comforting. Your arms were brushing as you both were focused on creating beautiful patterns on the same piece of fabric to make the work faster. It was supposed to be a beautiful green blanket with embroidered little dragons. 

Princess Helaena was sitting nearby and embroidering spiders on her own piece of fabric. Her cousin, Lady Margaery Hightower was sitting next to her and teaching her younger sister the craft. It was peaceful, cosy and quiet – you loved those moments the most because it was nearly as if Alicent was your own Lady Wife and you were just enjoying the time spent together with your family, far away from all those loud and obnoxious men surrounding you everywhere. These chambers were your escape and your own queendom.

When the doors opened, everyone except for Helaena looked up with a slight irritation since the man entering this sanctuary was nothing but an intruder. Even if the man was Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was loved by every person inside the chambers.

He cleared his throat when you gave him a soft smile, your arm still brushing Alicent’s and you were sitting in a way that made sure you were facing each other. You had never thought about it before but it was quite intimate indeed. Your husband’s tilted head made you realise that he had just observed something and after a short while you understood what it was as you moved away slightly.

“Brother,” Alicent greeted him. 

“Lord Husband,” you nodded at him.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I would like to take Margaery for a walk around the gardens,” he extended his hand towards his older daughter as Wyllow looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It must be Margaery alone this time but I promise you, little bird, I am going to take you for a walk later, too. Perhaps we’ll walk to the bay and watch the ships,” he assured her and she sighed with relief.

“You can finish without my help now, I believe,” Margaery handed the fabric to her younger sister. “Do try, at least. If you face any challenges, Lady Mother or Helaena shall help you.”

Helaena looked up when her name was mentioned and she gave Wyllow a soft smile that encouraged her little cousin to keep going. When Margaery stood up and left the sofa, Wyllow moved closer to Helaena and The Princess did not seem to mind.

“Can you help me with the ladybug?” She asked and Helaena’s face lit up at that.

“Lord Father,” Margaery took Gwayne by his arm and bowed her head at you and Alicent before walking out of the chambers with her father.

“I am wondering what is the matter my Lord Husband wishes to discuss with Margaery,” you hummed to yourself.

“She is ten and five now,” Queen Alicent pointed out. “What is the only possible matter that fathers wish to discuss with their daughters at that age?”

You furrowed your brows at her words because she was right and you did not like the sound of that. It was a shame that she was right, too, and not only for your own daughter but for every woman in this Realm. 

You saw Gwayne again before dinner, on your way to the dining hall. He was walking down the stairs and you rushed to him to walk by his side. He offered you his arm and you took it.

“I have a question for you, Lord Husband,” you started, nearly aggressively and he raised his eyebrows at that fierceness.

“What is it, my love?”

“Are you planning to marry our sweet Margaery off so quickly? I do not wish for her to get wed too soon,” you told him, hoping he would understand your point of view because sadly, in the end, the decision was his to make for women had always been properties of men – once her father’s, then her husband’s.

Sometimes you wished you had become a septa.

“Not soon, no. But she is ten and five. That was the age you were in when we met,” Gwayne reminded you with a smile.

“Yes, indeed, my darling, but it was us both meeting and falling in love. That is different, you must admit,” you pursed your lips.

“I must, indeed. Do not worry, I am not willing to force anything upon our sweet daughter. I have only told her to start looking around for suitable matches… soon,” your husband explained. “I am sure King’s Landing is full of important young men.”

“I do not wish for her to get married here. This place is rotten and so are its people,” you sighed. “My greatest wish is for Margaery to marry a man from The Reach.”

“We all have wishes, my darling wife,” Gwayne’s answer was nearly mocking but he spotted your annoyance so he looked around to make sure you were not being seen before pulling you by your waist and pushing you against the wall to steal a kiss from your lips. “Gods, I missed this,” he whispered and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Gwayne!” You scolded him playfully. “I missed this, too,” you added and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

But his smile dropped and eyes became serious all of the sudden. You stayed like that in a short moment of silence before he dropped the question that turned your guts inside out:

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?”

You were taken aback by his question and you moved your hand away from his face before taking a deep breath in, trying to steady your heartbeat.

“Alicent is my best friend,” you looked deep into his eyes, surprised by your own courage to lie like this…

But was it a lie? She was your friend, after all.

“There is intimacy between you two that I can only wish for between us these days,” Gwayne whispered and you bit on your lower lip.

“She is my main companion for weeks now,” you tried to explain.

“Are you still planning to come back home after The King dies?” Gwayne lowered his voice even more since talking about the monarch’s death could be seen as treason.

“Y-yes, of course,” you nodded nervously.

“Why the tremble of your voice?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow.

“What are you accusing me of?” You suddenly clenched your fists, trying to take another route of getting out of this awkward situation. “Your implications are indecent. You have been accusing me of obscenities ever since you arrived here. You wound me deeply, Lord Husband,” you straightened yourself.

“You have accused me first,” Gwayne reminded you.

“Without any reproach thrown at you. I have asked out of simple curiosity,” you informed him.

“You are right, do forgive me,” he reached for your hand to place a delicate kiss upon the palm of it. You sighed, feeling extremely guilty.

“You are forgiven,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, because it felt wrong to be the one saying those words.

In fact, at that very moment, you promised yourself to fix everything. You promised yourself to invite Gwayne to your chambers again for the night and let his touch to purify you like on the previous night. And you would go to The Sept and you would pray the sin away, you would beg for forgiveness, you would be a better wife, perhaps you would beg Alicent to let you go back to Oldtown with your husband.

Yes, that was the plan.

In the early morning you couldn’t tell that you were well-rested. Your muscles were sore after the previous two nights and your head was hazy but you still got dressed up quickly when the sun was rising and creeping inside your chambers to shine upon Gwayne’s auburn hair. You leaned in to kiss his forehead and you left him sleeping to visit The Sept and be able to go back to The Red Keep before breakfast.

You had never been a devout but you were not a savage either. You believed in Gods and now more than ever you needed redemption.

You expected to be alone there at such an early hour but no – of course not. Queen Alicent was already there, kneeling by the stone table and lighting the candles. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. She was your greatest temptation and it was a cruel joke that the Gods had played on you to put her there at this time when you visited The Sept to pray her very own self away from your life.

Alicent looked up, surprised to see you. Her soft features were as sad as usual but at the sight of you she seemed to be a bit happier – relieved, in a way. Your heart clenched inside your chest. How could you ever want to leave her? You couldn’t. She was too dependent on you. Her happiness was and so was her sanity. Leaving her would be equal to killing her.

“I have not expected you in The Sept at such an early hour,” she commented as you kneeled next to her.

“I have not expected myself here either,” you smirked. “I came here to ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? Aren’t you always the one telling me that what we do is no sin?” Alicent furrowed her brows.

“I have lied to my husband. That is a sin,” you confessed and Alicent did not say anything to this. “I… I will have to go back to Oldtown, I think… I can’t… I can’t go on like this,” you looked down and Alicent remained silent but you didn’t have to look at her to know her big brown eyes were filled with tears. “I miss my son and I miss Oldtown… King’s Landing is corrupt and I do not wish for my daughters to grow up here. I… I miss Gwayne, too. I love him, I love him, I love him…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sudden, harsh question made you look up to meet her teary gaze.

“I’ve been loving him ever since I saw him during the tournament. You were there, sitting by my side,” you reminded her.

“You love him because he is my brother but your life has always revolved around me,” Alicent pointed out and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You… You knew?” You only asked.

“I was blind to choose Rhaenyra because she was never for me to reach. She was The Princess and you were equal to me, so devoted. Blindly, very often. I took you for a fool and only after losing you, I realised. When you were sent to Oldtown, I suddenly understood that my only friend had left my side,” Alicent explained. “My only friend and the only person who has ever… Who has ever loved me – except for my mother.”

“Gwayne loves you, too,” you pointed out.

“Does he? He took you away from me,” Alicent’s jaw clenched and your eyes widened. She was not being rational but you knew why – she was scared of losing you again. In fact, she was determined to make you stay by her side.

“You will not let me leave, will you?” You whispered.

Alicent opened her mouth to say something but then her face softened and she stood up rapidly to walk away.

“I am sorry… I do not wish to… Act like this… I do not recognise myself,” she admitted with her voice full of shame. She raised her hands up to her mouth as she nervously bit on the soft skin around her fingernails.

You didn’t answer because you were too lost in your own thoughts. Was she right again? About you loving Gwayne only because he was her brother? You had never thought about it before. It would mean your whole marriage was a lie, an illusion – or rather a delusion.

“When I’m with him, I don’t imagine you,” you stood up as well when the realisation hit you. “But when I’m with you, he doesn’t exist to me. It’s as if there were two of me.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent shook her head. “To me, there is only you,” she confessed and laid her eyes on you.

You didn’t know what to answer. You swallowed a lump in your throat instead.

“I am flawed, poisoned…” Alicent continued. “I can only feel this way towards other women. I felt this way towards Rhaenyra until a certain moment and then… Then my whole life was about you. I have spent hours inside this Sept, trying to pray this away,” Alicent’s silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I do not have such a conflict. I can love both men and women,” you told her. “I can love you and I can love Gwayne…”

“I do not wish to share you!” Alicent interrupted you and then she hid her face in her hand as she sobbed.

“Women are not their own property. I am not the one to decide if I can be shared,” you answered diplomatically.

You felt sorry for her but you also felt sorry for Gwayne that he was being betrayed behind his back by his own wife and sister – two women he loved the most except for his daughters. He would die for you both, he would kill to protect you or to defend your honours – even though none of you had an honour anymore. He was the real victim here.

But one more look at Alicent’s sad eyes was enough to break you again. You approached her to cup her face and kiss her softly. She protested in the beginning since you were inside The Sept but you didn’t give a fuck about it anymore – you would go to Seven Hells anyway.

“I shall not leave you,” you promised her.

When you came back to your chambers, Gwayne was dressing up in front of the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at you entering the room.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

“In The Sept to pray,” you answered truthfully.

“Has my sister turned you into a devout like her already?” He chuckled.

“She has a great influence on me,” you nodded and walked up to him to kiss his cheek.

“You even smell like her,” he said and your heart skipped a beat.

“I am fond of her scented oils and she allows me to use them,” you answered.

“It feels weird when I’m fucking you, I have to admit,” Gwayne chuckled awkwardly and so did you.

“You shall fuck me more then,” you pointed out quietly.

“Even more, Lady Wife?” He shook his head with another chuckle.

“Until her scent is gone,” you explained and looked out of the window.

Gwayne did not say anything to this but his smile disappeared. From the corner of your eye you saw his reflection in the mirror and you realised that he had finally understood what was going on behind his back.

After a while, which felt like forever, he cleared his throat:

“It is a putrid place indeed.”

“You must take me far away from here,” you turned around to grab his arm and your heart broke when you felt him flinch a little. “You must save my soul and take me home,” you pleaded despite the promise you had given to Alicent earlier but that promise had not been given sober. You had been intoxicated with her.

“You must come back home yourself, my love,” Gwayne smiled sadly at you and caressed your hair gently, “for I do not wish to force anything upon you. You are always kind enough to remind me that you are not my property, aren't you? And I agree,” he nodded, “this decision is for you to make.”

And you didn’t know what to say or do because there was no decision that felt right and no decision that didn’t feel wrong either. Gwayne was your duty and your sacrifice and Alicent was a self-indulgent sin but you loved them both so much that you cursed the whole Hightower bloodline for existing because your life would be so much easier without them.

You knew what Gwayne was expecting of you – he expected you to choose your duty because – just like his sister – he was all about honour and decency. But you didn’t want your husband to feel as if you were choosing him only because of your marriage vows – you wanted him to know that you cared for him, too, even though he wouldn’t believe you now.

But there was only one choice for you anyway, wasn’t it? You couldn’t just stay with Alicent and pretend that it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t abandon your family and your duties for her and she had to understand it.

You looked deep into Gwayne’s eyes and your own filled with tears at the sight of all the pain and sadness in his. You dropped your hand down from his arm to intertwine your fingers with his.

“I do not think of myself as flawed or poisoned for feeling the way I feel,” you explained to him. “But I do not wish for my nature to spoil our union. If anybody can save me, it would be you,” you whispered. A plea. A desperate cry for help. “I am a mother, I am a wife, I am Lady Hightower and my home is in Oldtown.”

Your heart, however, would forever be divided; torn and bleeding. The deep, burning hole was forever to stay there for one reason or another.

MASTERLIST

[musaslullaby]

My friends

grid x fem reader

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5

Summary: The drivers defend you from insults

Face: people on Pinterest, Bianca Bustamante, and the driver

Warning: fluff and hate

a/n: We are 100!!! Thanks to you guys.I apologize for these parts that may be a bit boring, but lately I’ve been having trouble writing what’s on my mind. I still hope you’ll like it.

Masterlist

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Yn.official

Description: Let's hope this intense simulator session makes up for my disaster.

Liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, and other 9,384,93

Olliebearman: Wait, why didn't you come to me for help???

Yn.official: I needed a veteran.

georgerussell63: You did great, don't worry. ❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: Don't be pessimistic, mon ange.

carlossainz55: I also want that little toy.

georgerussell63: Sorry, Mercedes exclusive.

oscarpiastri: We should make an official request to the teams. ❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Guys, would you buy them?

f1lover: Yes, right away.

lan_: Please make them!

Leclerc_: Poor Hamilton.

16: This is too funny.

Yn.official: No Lewis was harmed.

lewishamilton: My face says it all. ❤️ Like to author

44.63: More meme content, thanks, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

formula1_: I'd buy them all.

user23: Instead of playing around, go train.

user48: I hate when people don't put in the effort.

user21: All pictures of George, not one of Yn, I wonder why.

user3: Yn, please stop playing the victim.

maxverstappen1

Description: Yn is training and also acting as a social media manager, what more do you want?

Liked by danielricciardo, olliebearman, and other 6,347,634

mv1: Max has entered protective mode.

checomax: Yes, these tactical jabs he throws at Yn's haters are awesome.

1.11: Yn, please date Max, I beg you! ❤️ Like to author

Red_:Max's like????

charles_leclerc: I've always said she's perfect.

landonorris: And also beautiful.

georgerussell63: I'm booking a photoshoot.

oscarpiastri: Leave her alone, George.

Yn.official: As soon as I find some time, I'll take some beautiful photos for you.

landonorris: You raised her well, your daughter.

danielricciardo: I know, she's my pride.

Yn.official: I'm about to cry.

op81: How cute you all are.

lewis: What a perfect family.

Lec: I want a dad like that.

user43: Proud of what?

user12: He probably taught her how to crash.

f1lover: Are you guys just here to stir trouble? ❤️ Like to author

user76: At least you can go straight in the simulator?

Formu_la: She's definitely much better than you. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official

Description: Mom forced me to go shopping.

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourcousin, and other 6,255,252

yourcousin: Go auntieee!

Yn.official: Mom’s waiting for you at homeee.

landonorris: Yn left the house!!!

charles_leclerc: Strange but true.

carlossainz55: These are the powers of mothers.

georgerussell: The lady has great taste in clothes too. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Mom said thank you.

oscarpiastri: Especially for that McLaren shirt. Mom said thank you.

user3: No, but how can you go out when you should be preparing for a race?

user32: And you’re with Haas, why are you covering McLaren gear?

user14: Can’t you do your own hair?

la_: Guys, mind your business?

16.55: If you’re here to insult, don’t follow her.

user09: I don’t think you get the point, if I were her mom, I wouldn’t let her out for the whole week so she could just train.

81: But how do you know if she’s training or not, and how much?

Landonorris

Description: When she apparently doesn’t train.

Liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63, and other 74,467,3

f1lover: Now the drivers are at war.

lan_: After Max, now it’s Norris too.

4__: I imagine in the first photo Lando thinking, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” ❤️ Like to author

Ynqueen: How cute are they?

Ynandnorris: And how beautiful is she?

charles_leclerc: Gorgeous. ❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: All thanks to training.

maxverstappen1: Training and willpower.

user30: You only go to the gym for photos.

user78_: I don’t understand why they defend her.

Formu_la: They defend her because she doesn’t want to create bad situations by responding.

yourcousin

Description: You're the best cousin I could ever have. We love you.

Liked by charles_leclerc, Yn.official, and other 9,802,833

Yn.official: My two stars.

❤️ Like to author

f1lover: How adorable.

Formula: Yn would be an amazing mother.

charles_leclerc: I missed the “Yn as a babysitter” era.

❤️ Like to author

landonorris: But weren’t you terrible with kids? ❤️ Like to author

yourcousin: She was.

Yn.official: That’s not true!

danielricciardo: All great, but Yn, don’t get baby fever. ❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Are you scared?

georgerussell63: Now we’re all scared.

Yn.official: Never

carlossainz55: Now I’ve got dad fever. ❤️ Like to author

danielricciardo: But wait, since when do you drink?

Yn.official: Oops.

Ynislife: Please tell me they’re coming to the GP.

yourcousin: We’ll see.

user87: Why do you have to use a child to get views?

Ynqueen: You guys are even here?

yourcousin: If you notice, you can’t even see the child’s face.

user45: Oh please, you’re probably just like Yn.

yourcousin: And how would that be?

user45: A manipulator.

Ynandlando: How dare you?

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Tag list

@barcelonaloverf1life @exotic-iris13 @secretlychaoticruins

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Voicelines about you

Arlecchino x Reader

Includes : Tartaglia, Wanderer, Charlotte, Lynette, Lyney, Freminete, Navia, Chiory and ofc Arlecchino

Note : This has been rotting in my Samsung Notes since months lol

Tartaglia

- Have you heard about the Knaves poor spouse? Sneznayas Darling? No? Well, I have seen them only a few times since they decided to reside in Fontain. Or since she made them, it wouldn't suprise me, the woman is intimidating and knows her way with words, who knows what she did or does with them...

Wanderer

- Who? Hmmm, they usually are always by her side, she had never move them an inch from her, or atleast that was before she had them stay in Fontain. But the last time I saw them, I could swear that the ligth had dissapeared from their eyes. And who can blame them, with that wolf of a wife... hehe, she must have ripped them limp from limp by now.

Charlotte

- The Knaves spouse! Of course! They are a hard catch these days! Not that I could Photograph them though, they're the same as the Knave in that regard. If they are dead? I can assure you they are not! I always see them at the mornings when I run to work! Sometimes alone, sometimes with the Knave, but I only have ever gotten a wave out of them. Such a mysterious figure...I wish I could just get one interview, I even tried to write to them! But only the Knave responded, denying it...such a shame.

Lynette

- Huh, I will assume you got that information from Childe. 'Mother' is...different from 'Father' to say the least, they are gentler, have a softer voice. Though if you upset them, that soft voice will turn solid. I've seen it before when a few of my siblings tried to slack off to much. They are even more strict than 'Father' in some cases, but, none of us blame them and whoever talks bad about them...well...you don't wanna know.

Lyney

- So you have heard about them? Was it from the rumors that 'Father' has killed them? Or from Childe? Childe, really? Interesting. Well, when Lynette and I were younger, we have noticed that 'Father' would treat them differently. Just not in a positive ligth, while we liked them. They were... different from the other caretakers, and so we spun a little matchmaking with the help of Freminete. I remember it all quite fondly.

Freminete

- You've heard of 'Mother'? They are kind, I think. Sometimes...sometimes when I wanted to cry when I was younger, they would pull me aside and have me silently cry in their lap, even let me stain their clothes...they would never mention it to 'Father', and act as if it never happend.

Navia

- I thougth they were dead for the longest time! That was untill I overheard the Knave ask one of her soldiers to deliver the message that she'd need to stay a bit longer and for them to prepare the soldiers. I never meet them in person, but...I'd suggest you to be careful with them too. I don't think a Harbinger would choose their Partner ligthly.

Chiori

- I am not really one for rumors, let us just say that I thougth they were made up, but that was untill they came into my shop just five minutes after I opened it on a Monday. They were very adamant about the fabrics I should use and what they wanted, also having their measurements along with them already. I like customer's that know what they want. How I knew that they were the 'Mother'? The presence of the Knave in front of the shop was a big indicator for it, as for some other clues, like the ring, and the fact that they kissed, and maybe because they called her their Husband.

Arlecchino

- My spouse, of course, I've gathered that you have already heard about them.

What I can say about them? Well, as the 'Mother' it is their duty to stay by my side and support me in my work. They do so quite well. You say that, that sounds as if they function as the 'First Lady' or 'First spouse' in this case? Well, I suppose that's true.

- Oh? You wanna know even more about them? Maybe I should get you to meet them then, they have been asking me if they could meet that famous traveler everyone has been talking about, we could arrange something, just be careful, they have been quite timid lately. But I'm sure you'll get along well.

[dark-konohagakure2]

threesome with grell & sebastian x grell’s sister? maybe a bit of knife play on sebastian’s part?

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, threesome, mild SebaGrell, manipulation, coercion, knife play, female pronouns for Grell

All characters depicted are 18+

Grell is always lamenting the fact that Sebastian doesn't reciprocate her passionate feelings for him, and the person she'll lament this to the most is her dear younger sister. The younger sister will feel pity for her sister, so she'll attempt to reason with Sebastian and talk him into giving her elder sister a chance, but she doesn't know how to talk the butler into it.

Sebastian is a gentleman, so he's open to negotiating with such a fine young woman, on one condition; she let's him indulge in her body. She doesn't want to sleep with someone she barely knows, especially not a demon, so she'll go crying to her sweet big sister that she doesn't want to do that, even for her sake.

But as soon as Grell is told the terms of getting her chance with Sebastian, she's immediately on board, already dressing both herself and her sister in their prettiest dresses (both of which are the color red obviously), when her little sister cries about how she doesn't want to sleep with a demon, Grell will simply shush her, she's not going to let her sister's whining get in the way of true love.

When the sisters finally meet up with Sebastian, Grell is instantly all over the tall, dark, and handsome butler, clinging to him while showing off how cute both she and her little sister are just for his pleasure.

"Oh isn't my baby sister just too adorable, Bassy~?! She's a delicate little baby doll so be very gentle with her, darling~!"

Of course Sebastian doesn't honor Grell's request, and she doesn't enforce it either, letting the demon do whatever he wants to her own sister, Sebastian will even hold a knife against the girl's delicate neck as he's forcing his way inside of her. It's just harmless enough looking silverware, but in Sebastian's hands it's a very deadly weapon.

Grell can't help herself after a while, her cock is getting painfully hard at the sight of her 'lover' dominating her younger sister in such a way, so she'll decide to join in, gently forcing her own cock into her sister's whiny mouth, Sebastian is completely unphased by this sight, he's a demon after all, so he's witnessed and partaken all types of depravities.

Grell is much more gentle than Sebastian, she loves her little sister more than anything (besides her darling Bassy), so she doesn't want to harm the little lady as she fucks her virgin throat. Sebastian isn't as kind, letting his gentlemanly facade go entirely since no humans are around to witness what a horrible beast he truly is beneath his posh butler charade.

Sebastian is a very well endowed demon despite his lean physique, even in his human form his cock is enough to break any virgin hole he decides to fuck, and if he was in his demon form his cock alone would almost be enough to kill the poor grim reaper.

"Well done, little reaper, you managed to take my entire cock without breaking. I'm sure your big sister trained you good and proper in the ways of being an obedient little whore..."

Grell will take her sister home after that, excitedly chatting her ear off about their next 'date' with Sebastian, and since the first date went so well for Grell and only Grell, she's without a doubt going to drag her poor sister along to the next one kicking and screaming.

[elenamegan14]

One Piece Imagine: F!Reader giving a Victory Smooch to Monster Trio

Luffy

Luffy did not see himself as a hero. He is a pirate, and he never shares especially food. But boy, the rage he felt when he saw that terrible Marine captain stole the food that you have painstakingly tried to keep - nobody has the right to starve anyone on HIS watch!

So you truly fall for him when he and his crew return with a wagon of fruits, veggies, all the finest delicacies he can offer... and a very beaten up corrupt Marine captain on his feet. The villagers were more than grateful to be freed from that jerk, especially you.

After giving that Marine a well-deserved kick on the nuts before handing him to the ACTUAL authority, you came up to Luffy with a plate of his favorite meat on the bones and told him that he deserved a reward for helping her. He gratefully accepts it... but not before you gave him a gentle peck on his cheek, "My hero." Luffy is annoyed that you are interrupting his meal. Also, he is not a hero, damn it! But he is still grateful for the reward. Meanwhile, Sanji is fuming about the background of why Luffy always gets the good part of the reward.

"Shishishishi! You're welcome! But I want more meat instead of kisses!"

Zoro

You're gonna need a lot of cold showers when Zoro saves you. because the way he saves you is actually hoooooot.

Oceans in Grand Line are stupidly dangerous. Freaky weather and monsters will always come when you least expect it. So it really kind of surprised you when the crew got ambushed by a giant Sea King.

A very vicious, pissed-off Sea King.

Its battle with it can be described as near-death and brutal. The crew had a lot of close calls, but it was when its jaws almost closed on you that Zoro got to work.

A couple of swishes from his blade, followed by an intense "ONI GIRI!" battle cry had turned that Sea King into a seafood fillet fit to feed as Luffy's dinner. It was vicious, it was professional. IT WAS HOT.

When Zoro came to check on you, you had to fan yourself really hard because, WOW. How does that muscle of his work again? And how hard his teeth are? Zoro did not have time to react before your lips descended on him, catcalls and cheers from the crew (and a furious rant from Sanji) accompanied the scene. "My hero~" you purred.

The normally serious Zoro became incredibly flustered, annoyed, and sorta impressed by your reward. He never expected this turn of events, promising you that he will need more than that in the bedroom.

"Oi, OI! Really? Ah, damn it. All in a day's work I guess. Seriously, what was that?"

Sanji

The day you're engaged to the most violent and sexist man is the day Sanji saved you. Your noble parents sold you off to the most notoriously rich man, who is known for his brutish "manly" treatment of women. To them, it was discipline. But to you and the other poor women, he is hell.

Enter Sanji. He has been on the island for a few days and he already heard plenty of horror stories about the future groom of yours. So he did what a pirate should do - crash into the party with the crew and humiliate your father and groom with the knowledge of wine and food.

Your ex-fiance's luck ran out when he slapped you halfway across the room when you tried to stop him from jeopardizing the guests' safety. Gone is the suave Sanji - he only sees a man who DARES to hurt a lady and brags about it - oh, he won't get away with it. One Diable Jambe Concasse later, Sanji left the terrified household and one horribly hurt unconscious fiancee, carrying you in his arms.

When you're already in a safe space, Sanji asks if you're okay... only to be met with a barrage of kisses on his face and a large one of his lips. Never had you felt so grateful, so much in love with Sanji. "My hero! Thank you so, SO, much!"

There was a happy, sheepish grin, lots of "mellorine!" and blood spurts from the nose before Sanji replied joyfully with "You're welcome, milady!" And then he would ask if there is more to come from your reward.

He nearly went to heaven when you slyly said yes.

"HA! You see that?! I am a hero! Yes, I am! Mr. Prince is here to save the ladies's day from danger! Ahaha! I am always here to serve you any time, Y/N-chwaaan!"

Please reply if you would like to suggest more scenarios like this with other characters!

[zhongrin]

“honey, can you… leave me alone?”

— (sometimes, we all just need some downtime for ourselves)

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, diluc, kaeya, kaveh, thoma, albedo, wanderer, xiao

◇ tags ◇ angst with comfort, established relationship, petnames

◇ a/n ◇ oh wow! guys!! i wrote angst with comfort!!! guys!!!!!!! are you proud of me????? this is kinda self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was just. tired. you know, those moments where you genuinely just want to shut down and be in your own company? yeah.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli smiles patiently. and if he judged that you would allow him to, he would place a kiss on top of your head before stepping away. his movements are graceful and calculated, amber eyes ever so observant as he watches the droop of your lashes and the downturn of your lips.

ah. you’re in that kind of mood.

with a firm nod, he promises to give you all the space you needed, as long as at the end of the day you return to his arms. a few hours or days of waiting would certainly make him miss you terribly, but zhongli is a patient man, and your well-being matters most.

“of course. you’ll come to me when you’re ready, yes?”

al haitham understands your needs very well. contrary to most people’s beliefs, he would put them just as equally high - if not more - than his own needs most of the time.

he simply nods upon your words and, after much consideration, would place his soundproof headphones on your side before he leaves the room, carefully minding his footsteps as he walks towards kaveh’s room to inform the architect of the situation and remind him to tone his antics down.

“alright. call me if you need anything.”

diluc would automatically ask you if something is wrong or is bothering you - it’s his protective instincts, don’t blame him too much - but he knows not to probe further when you give him that look.

he offers for a maid to deliver your favorite warm drink later, and with one last comforting squeeze of his hand on top of yours, he leaves, his head full of questions and his heart set to spoil you rotten the moment you return to his side.

“adelinde? tell the maids to skip cleaning [name]’s study today. and tell the workers to be especially quiet when they walk about the second floor.”

kaeya might only have half the eyesight normal people have, yet he’s anything but inattentive, especially when it comes to you. he settles with a light, fleeting caress upon your cheek with his gloved hand, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead before retreating, offering you a sympathetic grin.

“i got you, babe. i’ll be at the office doing paperwork for once, but you can visit me anytime, okay?”

thoma holds back the urge to fuss over you like the mother hen that he is.

he knows about this habit of yours - sometimes lady ayaka exhibits the same behavior - so he knows he shouldn’t be too worried. you always get over this eventually; what you need now is time, and just like any other point in time in your relationship, he is more than willing to accommodate all of your desires.

“do you need me to sleep at the couch tonight? it’s really no trouble at all, love. anything that makes you most comfortable, okay?”

kaveh visibly pouts and looks like he’s about to cry when you ask him for such a request.

he can’t help it, okay? he wants to hold and kiss and cherish you constantly! so having to deliberately spend some time apart from you is torture to him… plus, those tired eyes of yours hurt his poor empathetic heart more than anything.....

with a saddened nod, he fiddles his fingers and gives you a pair of wet puppy eyes.

“are you sure, baby? …... you know you can tell me anything, right? …… whenever you’re ready, okay, precious? i’ll be in the living room, then…. come find me soon, okay, my love?”

albedo doesn’t even bat an eye. he’s already long since memorized your behavioral patterns, and from your recent ventures, he did conclude that this was going to happen. all within expectations, he muses, yet he can’t help but feel saddened at the exhaustion prominently displayed on your features.

with a soft smile, he places his specially curated ‘care package’ on your lap along with a gentle kiss on your cheek before exiting the room and hanging a “do not disturb - contact albedo instead” sign right in front of the door.

“there are a few snacks and calming scented candles inside, along with a few interesting puzzles and crafts. i thought you might like them and find them relaxing. i’ll be at the lab - just send a message through sucrose or timaeus if you need me.”

wanderer’s automatic response is a half-fearful, half-angry “are you fucking serious? hell no!”, but the second emotion is amplified when he sees the murkiness in your expression.

he swears to inflict pain upon whoever dared to put this expression on your face, but he falters when you explain your thoughts the best you can in your current headspace. eventually, with a scowl on his face and a gruff "fine.", the door closes behind him and he slides onto the floor. sure, you can shoo him away, but he has no intention to move from that spot until you reopen the said door.

“….. hmph. guess being a puppet is a good thing at times like these.”

xiao relates to your struggles far too well. he simply nods and teleports out from the room as fast as he could, not wanting his karmic debt to affect your mood further negatively.

throughout it all, your silent protector watches from afar and listens to the wind around you ever so cautiously. just because he agreed to give you space, it doesn’t mean he can’t continue to make sure you’re safe and sound, after all.

“understood. you need only call my name when you are ready to see me.”

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town

[holylulusworld]

Bucky still got this

Summary: You took the perv home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, protected sex, mentions of unprotected sex, fun, naughty reader, naughty Bucky, a match made in heaven

This is a snippet to Big girls don’t cry masterlist, but with Bucky and a different reader. It can be read as a stand-alone fic.

Catch up here: Bucky got this

“I got this... I got this,” Bucky grunts in your neck with every deep thrust. He’s so close to losing it that he moves at a madding pace. “I fucking got this.”

“Yes, you got this,” you eagerly agree, rocking your hips faster. You’re so painfully close to another orgasm, you don’t care that you just met the guy holding you pinned to your mattress. “You fucking got this.”

"I GOT THIS!"

“BUCKY GOT THIS!” You scream at the top of your lungs when you fall apart underneath the cocky guy you met in front of the bakery.

“Fuck, I got this,” he whines in your neck through his orgasm. “I got this...always.”

“Yeah, Romeo, you got this,” you snicker when he lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “You got it more than once.”

You both laugh when your neighbor hammers against the wall. Not for the first time, though.

“We all know you got this. Can you stop with the non-stop fucking? Other people want to watch TV, eat, or sleep!”

“Shut up! I must bear hearing you jerk off to bad porn every night. I got a perfect dick to ride and will make good use of it. All. Night. Long.”

“Bitch!” Your neighbor yells and slams his fist into the wall. “Keep it down!”

“Shut up, dick-less jerk,” you reply, making Bucky chuckle. “He will fuck me with his tongue and fingers now, and we will make as much noise as we can!”

“What?” Bucky slowly pulls out to roll on his back. He discards the condom and sighs. “My jaw still hurts, lady. I’m not a sex machine.”

You snort. “You promised me a good time, little perv,” you pat his chest. “Come on, don’t be a disappointment.”

“I made you cum more than once,” Bucky mutters under his breath. “Women these days are so greedy. I give them an orgasm, and they want more.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you roll on top of Bucky to kiss his chest. “Is my pretty perv already tired? I thought your hands and dick can work magic.”

“I did,” he grunts. “Lady, hey...” he hisses, feeling your hand wrap around his sensitive dick. “I can’t get it up right after I filled you up.”

“Hmm…do you know that one Beyoncé song?” You coo and peck his lips. “You know, if you like it, put a ring on it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, but he can’t help the growl leave his lips. “You want to use me like some toy, huh? Do dirty things to me and ruin this cunt forever. Maybe let me fill your pussy up this time too.”

“Please, for the love of whatever,” your neighbor yells. “Stop fucking! I need silence!”

You sigh and get comfortable on top of Bucky. “So, how long does it usually take for you to get hard again?” You giggle when Bucky slaps your ass. “I mean it, Mr. Barnes. How long?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“You are a perv. We’re a match made in heaven.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but says nothing. He just had the best sex in ages. If he wants to get some more sugar, he’ll play along and let you say whatever you wish to him.

“I’m not a perv,” he finally replies. “I told you about my friend and his girl’s problems.”

“I only heard your friend is a douche hurting that beautiful woman,” you huff and bite his nipple.

Bucky yelps. “Hey, what was that for?”

“You supported that douche.” You grin before biting the other nipple. This time, Bucky slaps your ass. “Hmm…harder, perv.”

“I told you to keep it low! I’m calling the cops!” Your neighbor yells even louder.

“Go ahead! Tell the cops you’re listening to other people, fuck!” You yell back. “You are a fucking creep. Don’t think I didn’t see you stare at my ass!”

“He stared at your ass." Bucky’s features darken. “Let me find my pants, and I’m punching his face.”

“Punch his dick!” You snicker as you roll off Bucky to watch him look for his pants. “No, wait. You won’t find his dick. It’s tiny.”

“Where are my pants?” Bucky looks for his pants, ready to punch a stranger for you. “Fuck!”

“Bucky, get back to bed. He’s not worth it,” you laugh while Bucky struggles to find his clothes. “We started in the living room, remember?” You crook your finger and lure Bucky back in. “If you can’t get it up right now, how about you invite me to the bakery for something sweet?”

Bucky impatiently watches you look at the baked goods. He huffs and hopes you’ll choose something soon. His cock twitched more than once watching you bounce on your heels in front of him.

“Dammit, that’s not good,” he murmurs and looks down at his body. “Don’t fall in love, little Bucky. That’s a one-time thing. Do not get addicted to her. We won’t discuss this. I'm warning you, punk.”

“What do you think?” You twirl around to show Bucky a baguette, not cake. “Do you think we can skip the cake and go back to this?”

You seductively slide your tongue over the baguette, your eyes holding Bucky’s gaze. He chokes on his spit, watching you open your mouth to put the tip of the baguette into your mouth.

“Fuck, woman!” He grabs your wrist to drag you out of the bakery. “I guess your neighbor will hate us even more.”

Tags in reblog.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Damocles (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Each night, Prince Aemond sends for one of the prisoners kept in Harrenhal. Come sunrise, they are dead. Can you escape the curse, or will you fall prey to it?

Warnings: HOTD levels of violence, or a bit less. Dialogue heavy. Part of my Halloween celebration.

“The Prince has sent for you.” The guard’s voice reaches you, as it does every night. You keep your eyes lowered. So far, the strategy has served you well. You are never picked. Instead, you wait for the next poor soul to be taken away, back stuck to the wall of your cell.

But tonight, the poor soul is you. The guard grabs your shoulder when you do not move, pulling you forward roughly.

The scene you have watched play out dozens of times with growing dread suddenly feels like it has reached a crescendo.

You do not want to die. You are not ready. There is so much you want to do, so much you want to experience. Your story cannot end tonight.

Each night for the last moon, a guard has entered the cell where all the young women of Harrenhal are being kept. At first, there had been many of you, servants and ladies alike. Enough not to notice the women taken were not coming back.

As weeks went by, it became more obvious. Each time a woman was taken upstairs, she never came back. The others were too caught up in their despair to notice, but the witch saw too. Both of you kept to the back of the cell all day, hoping the guards would be too lazy to choose someone who was away from the door.

The strategy had worked for a while, when there had been enough women to shield you both. None of you shared the secret with the others. The witch and you were survivors, and surviving sometimes took a bit of selfishness.

Neither did you two speak. You were too afraid that if you did, you would alert the rest of the women about the trick. The Seven knew what the witch thought, but she never attempted to initiate a conversation either. Not when you had been a servant and she was a bastard girl, much less now when you were both prisoners.

As the numbers dwindled, though, the two of you had started to exchange knowing glances. There were no longer enough women to hide behind. Your time was coming too.

For you, it had been today. For her? By the number of women left, she would not survive the fortnight.

Your hands shook as you followed the guard towards the door of your cell. You tried your best to hide their tremors by grasping them demurely in front of you, like you had seen some ladies do. The instinct to cry and scream, plead for your life, was warring with your instinct to hold on to your dignity.

Your eyes stung. You were going to cry. Good Gods, you were going to die. But before the guard allowed you to exit the cell, someone pushed you, slamming your head hard against the metal bars.

“What are you..?” The guard says, turning to see why you had escaped his grasp. You look up to meet the witch’s eyes, black as coal. She was gripping your chin tightly, pinning you to the structure behind you with her body.

“To entertain doesn’t necessarily mean to bed.” The witch hisses. It was the first time you heard her voice. She smelled earthy, and her hands were stained with dirt. You wondered how it was possible when there was only stone and metal surrounding you. “Do you understand?”

You don’t. The pain from her shove makes your head throb. The bruising grip on your chin barely allows you to speak. And of course, you are panicking about your imminent death.

“Do you understand me?” She screams, as another guard pries her from you. She fights him tooth and nail, looking more like an angry cat than a woman. “Do you understand me?”

“I do!” You shout, even if you don’t because the guard is getting impatient, and you do not wish for her to be hurt. She is trying to help you, after all. In her weird, witchy way. Instead, you commit her words to memory. “I do!”

The guard grabs you roughly by the elbow, and places cold manacles on your wrists. They are heavy, and have a chain that allows him to tug you forward.

He drags you through the halls, towards one of the towers. It is the same one old Simon Strong used to live in. You guess they have kept things as they were because it is one of the few habitable ones and fixing another one wasn’t worth the effort.

“I do not know or want to know what the witch was on about. She is bad business.” The guard shakes you, when the two of you stop before a door. “But you will not give me trouble, or you will face your death far sooner. Wash and dress.”

He unchains you, before he opens the door and shoves you inside. You slip a bit, but manage to catch your footing. As you look around, you understand what is going on.

Your horror only grows. They want you to warm his bed. You will be made to bed the Prince, and when he tires of you, he will… They will…

The room is bare apart from a tub. There is a change of clothes near it, folded carefully. It looks like a robe, and a nightshirt, but not common ones. They are fine, like the clothes the stuffy ladies wore.

There are no windows. Only the door. There are no objects that can be used as a weapon, only a silver comb and soap. You undress, and check the water in the tub. It’s tepid, barely. They clearly don't bother to warm it much for a dead girl walking. Still, you get inside, glad to be able to wash the grime off you.

It soothes you, for a while. You can almost pretend that you are at home, bathing in the creek. The respite doesn’t last you long because once you run out of things to do, and can only sit in the cold water, you remember why you are here.

Panic freezes you. You are unable to think of anything beyond the fact that you are about to die. Dead. Death. Die. It echoes in your head, like a chant. Before sunrise, you will be dead.

You should fight. You should think of a plan. But you can hear your blood in your ears, and your heart beats madly inside your chest. You cannot think of anything at all, your whole body rigid with fear.

“Girl!” The guard bellows, from outside. “Your time is up. Do not make me go get you.”

“Give me a minute. I’m almost done.” You cry out, startled. You had forgotten about him. Blinking back your tears, you get up in a rush. You slip on the wet tiles, falling oddly over your ankle. The pain is a hot, red flash. Fucking hells. Just what you needed.

You dress in a hurry. You have never worn anything half as fine as the clothes left for you, and yet, your dread only makes you think about how it is likely the other dead girls wore this too.

The guard opens the door just as you are brushing your hair. He grabs you by the shoulder, and starts dragging you to a set of rooms. The Lord’s ones.

He opens the door, and unceremoniously shoves you inside. It seems he has done such many times before. He doesn’t bother cuffing you again.

The room is scarcely lit. Only the fireplace and the setting sun provide any light, making it look like a raging inferno is tearing through the castle. As your eyes get used to the lack of light, you realize the room is sumptuous, dominated by a canopy bed. The mattress looks soft, nothing whatsoever like the cold rock you slept on for the last moon.

There is a man sitting on the bed. He is both the most handsome and terrible man you have ever seen. He is tall, and long limbed. His figure is imposing, not a hint of softness in him. Not in his eye, the curve of his jaw, or the dagger he twirls absently between his fingers.

He looks like he is on fire, too. The light plays on his hair like flames, the white backdrop intensifying the reds and oranges.

You think him a demon, at first.

You understand why the guard didn’t cuff you. If you ran, you wouldn’t make it outside the room. You can see it play out in your mind’s eye. You would rush towards it, and he would get up, grabbing you by the hair, or the night shift, or your arm. His dagger would raise to your throat, you would bleed to death before you could even scream.

“Good.” He says, voice calm. As if this were a common occurrence. “You are here.”

You stand there, frozen in muted terror. This must be the Prince, your brain screams at you. Prince Aemond. You should bow. Curtsy. Do anything. But your limbs betray you, and you remain rooted to the spot.

“Entertain me.” The prince orders. You feel bile gather at your throat.

To even think of bedding him, this terrible man, scares you. Not because he is a bad man, or because he is not handsome. These Targaryens are truly closer to Gods than men. It is because you know what fate awaits you, once you leave his bed.

You had never considered yourself a sensual woman. You fear you might live less than you hoped for because you wouldn’t describe yourself as someone entertaining to bed. Considering your state of utter terror, your company would be lackluster.

“En-Entertain you?”

“You are a pretty woman.” He smiles. It’s all cruelty. He looks you up and down. His eye lingers on your breasts for a second longer than necessary. “I bet you can find something to do.”

The other women were, too. Some of them had even been ladies, they had been the first ones to get taken. They might have rejected him, trying to protect their virtue. Or they might have attempted to seduce him.

“To entertain isn’t to bed.” You hear the witch say, her voice loud and clear. You look towards the door, but no one is there.

The Prince clears his throat. He doesn’t seem to have heard anything.

“I hope you are not thinking of escape.”

There had been a dancer from Lys, famed for her ability to shake her hips and belly. She contorted like a snake, and rode men like an amazon. She hadn’t returned to the cell you shared, either.

Being good in bed wasn’t the answer. Perhaps, if you didn’t bed him, you might survive the night. You just had to survive the night.

“Pass me a pillow, my Prince.” You say, taking off the green robe they have given you. Your voice is firm, despite the fear you feel. “And bring one for yourself. Let us sit by the fire.”

Prince Aemond arches an eyebrow. For a second, he looks like he might protest, but you do not waver. You keep your expression kind, praying that he is curious enough to agree.

“Very well.” He says, after a while. He grabs the two pillows and hands you one. You place it on the floor and sit on it, cross-legged.

“Sit. I wish to tell you a story. A real one.”

“What game are you playing, woman?”

“I simply wish to entertain you.” You keep your tone sweet, despite the fear making you tense up at any movement he makes. You swallow, and pat the space across from you, invitingly. “Come. If it is not to your liking, we can do something else, but I beg you to allow me to at least try. Just a moment. ”

“Fine.” Prince Aemond sits down, and you stretch yourself. You have to talk until sunrise, you decide. Until sunrise at the very least. Or until he falls asleep.

“There was once an Empress, pale and beautiful as the pure snow. Her eyes were a deep purple, so her people called her the Amethyst Empress, for she was the first daughter of their beloved Opal Emperor. In this Empire, primogeniture dictated laws of succession, and she had been born first than her brother.” You start, voice nervous. You have picked this story for a reason. It is long and convoluted enough for you to waste hours telling it, but it’s also similar to his situation. The parallels might be taken as a slight, but also engage him further. Or so you hope.

“When her father passed, the Amethyst Empress ruled fairly and wisely for a few years of peace. But her brother was used to a certain lifestyle, one her father had indulged, but the Empress was no longer willing to fund. So he plotted to usurp her.”

“Mm.” The Prince seems unconvinced. You notice a pitcher full of wine on the bedside table, alongside two goblets. So you get up, hoping to buy time, and pour for both of you. Maybe if you ply him with wine, he will become sleepy.

He accepts it with an arched eyebrow. You sit back down, glad that he is amusing you.

“When he ascended the throne, he cast aside his sister's gods because they had done her no good. He started worshiping a stone that fell from the sky, and for that, his people named him the Bloodstone Emperor.”

Prince Aemond seems bored. He grips the dagger tightly, instead of simply playing with it. Your next words come out more hurried.

“The Bloodstone Emperor needed a wife to continue his dynasty, as all Emperors did before him, and as all Emperors do today. He decided to marry a Tiger woman. Do you know what they are?”

“… I am afraid I am not familiar.” His grip on the dagger loosens. There is a slight change on his face, a small softening of his scowl. You fight off the smile of utter, sheer joy that threatens to overtake you.

“They are a race of people from Yi Ti, whose body is orange with dark stripes, but look just like you and me.”

“Like tigers.”

“Exactly. With a tail.” You have no idea if that is true, but your success has emboldened you. Prince Aemond fights off a smile. “And with the same appetites. It is said that to please his wife, the Emperor enslaved his own people, and served them as meal for his Tiger wife. He even, curious, partook. Perhaps, tasting the blood on her lips had opened his appetite.”

You lower your voice, as if sharing a secret. You try to pretend he is one of the children you used to mind in your old life, one where you got fresh air and were not a prisoner in a damp dungeon.

“The wife had stranger customs still. She liked dark magic, and obscure rituals. The two of them would make love covered in strange sigils, painted on with the blood of his victims.”

The Prince stretches his legs before him, getting more comfortable.

“Come closer.” He orders. The thought of the rituals you are describing seems to energize him. You wonder what queer customs his house practices, that he is so amused while talking of cannibalism and ritual murder. “If we must speak of such things…”

“No pleasure comes without a price.” You evade his advances and take a big gulp of wine. You will need it. His eye narrows. “The betrayal of the Bloodstone Emperor, and the men who supported him, angered the Amethyst Empress Gods. They sent a dark age to the Empire, a dark age that extended from far beyond Essos. Towards Westeros itself.”

“Westeros? You are making the story up.” He scoffs, looking at you like you are a very dumb child. It stings. If you are ignorant, it is not out of your own volition. You didn’t get to have his education. “I have not heard of such a thing. And I assure you, I know my history.”

“You do? Then a man as cultured as you is familiar with what the Northerners call…” Your tone is sharper, this time. Bolder. The more you speak, and nothing bad happens, the more comfortable you feel.

“The Long Night.” And it’s then you can tell you have him. He suddenly sits up straighter, abandons the dagger he toyed with.

“Indeed.” You give him an indulgent smile. “Close your eye, and imagine we travel from Essos to the North. The sun hides, one night, and the northerns do not know it’s the last time they will see it for years. The snow falls and falls, a hundred feet deep. Soon, children are born, live and die, without ever knowing the joy of a summer day.”

Miraculously, he obeys. He then lets out a thoughtful hum.

“You are a summer person.”

“Would you like to live without ever seeing the sun? In the cold?”

“I enjoy winter. The clothes are bigger.”

“Easier to hide behind?”

“Continue the story.” The Prince’s voice turns sharper, anger lurking beneath the calm exterior. It tells you that you are in the right. You do not wish to push your luck, so you continue talking.

“The direwolves, which during that time still patrolled the lands, grew gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers moved freely through the woods. The night lasted a generation, Kings dead in their own castles, and women wept, and felt their tears freeze before they even reached their cheeks.”

Prince Aemond scoffs, but stays quiet. One of his hands comes to grasp at your bare ankle, making you tense. The fragile bones underneath your skin shift, reminding you of how vulnerable you are.

He smiles, amused by how scared you are. He gives your ankle a gentle rub, encouraging you to keep speaking.

“It is in that darkness that the Others came. Terrible, tall creatures, cold and dead, with faces frozen over by the snow, limbs blue from the cold. Have you ever seen a man die from the cold?” It’s a gamble, but you have realized the prince has a taste for the more morbid things.

You wonder if he used to be the kind of child who hurt animals. One of his ancestors had been. He had led Westeros into one of the cruelest reigns the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.

“No, I can’t say I have.” He answers you, sipping from his goblet. His other hand is still a manacle on your ankle.

“It’s a horrible death. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Some say it is like falling asleep, but that’s a lie. At first, you lose sensation on your hands and feet. Your lips turn blue. You start shaking. It feels as if needles made of ice are piercing your joints. And then, the pain stops. You start feeling hot, so you strip yourself of all your clothes because the cold is treacherous like that. By the time you are naked, and realize your mistake, you can no longer move. Only then you feel cold, and then it feels like falling asleep.”

“Have you seen someone die such?” Prince Aemond arches an eyebrow. You give him a coy smile, feeling a tad drunk. You haven’t even drank so much.

“I will only say that the faces of the Others are terrible because the pained agony from the frost is.”

“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.” He smiles back. You stomp down your triumph, knowing that a Cyvasse game can be lost at any time, even if you think you are winning it. One wrong move, and he could regain control of the board.

“The Others came for the first time during the Long Night. They hated iron and fire, and any creature with hot blood in their veins. They came and conquered, holdfasts, cities, and even whole kingdoms, felling heroes and armies and giving no mercy. Not even to babes.”

“War is like that. You cannot blame them.” He caresses your leg, softly. Your insides turn to ice.

War is not like that, the old you would have answered. The current you knows that men, especially this one, will do atrocities and blame them on it.

“I suppose. We should be glad no army today has their powers.”

“Why?”

“Because those they slew joined their numbers. Hordes and hordes. Dead women, dead children, even those who could only crawl. On top of pale dead horses, carrying the weapons they had used in life and some more.”

Prince Aemond tugs on your leg, hard. Pulling you closer. He leans in, looking at your mouth. His pupil is blown, expression full of lust.

You brace your hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back. He growls at you, but lets go.

“Take note of this: This was before your mother’s forefathers even appeared on Westeros. There were no Andals or Rhoynar, Nymeria had not come to Dorne yet with her ten thousand ships. The Kingdoms of those days were those of the First Men. It is why the Starks have such a strange motto.” You explain, leaning back. You do not dare reject him more outwardly, for fear of angering him. Instead, you hope to distract him.

The slight twitch of his lips tells you he is only letting you get away with it because he enjoys the chase.

“Strange?”

“You have never wondered? All the Great Houses have one that speaks of their bravery or their prowess. Hear me roar. Growing strong. Even, the values they hold dear. Family, Duty, Honor. Why the Starks have Winter is coming?”

“I suppose you shall tell me.”

“It is rumored by some that the hero in our story might have been a Stark. But we will talk about that later.” Hopefully, tomorrow, if you survived the night. You had lost track of the passage of time already, but you hoped the slight change in light was a product of sunrise and not your imagination. “Where was I?”

“The First Men.” Prince Aemond says, helpfully. He lies on his back, letting go of you. You remain sitting, feeling awkward over the whole thing. You wonder if you could reach for his dagger and slit his throat.

The knowing look on his face prompts you to discard the notion.

“Right. So they had taken their lands from the Children of the Forest, which you would think wouldn’t make them friends. And they were not. The Children had retreated into the woods, and lived in wooden cities and hollow hills. They kept watch through the trees, and their carved faces.”

“Weirwood.”

“Indeed. Heart trees.” A small, barely there sun ray begins peeking from the window. You wonder if you are imagining it, but you notice that birds can be heard already. Sunrise must be near. Your posture relaxes, the tension leaving your shoulders, before you are overcome by a sense of panic again.

What if all this has been in vain? If come sunrise, he executes you regardless?

“What’s the difference?” The prince yawns. He rubs his eye. It’s at seeing his exhaustion that you realize yours. You have talked for what seems like hours, with only wine to drink. You do not remember the last time you had a good meal. Your body is running in fumes by this point.

But even if you laid down, you could not sleep. Not with a predator in the room.

“The carved faces. Our hero decided to search for the Children, hoping that their magic could help bring back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands, with a sword, a horse, a dog, and his companions. He searched for years. One by one, his friends perished. From the cold, the sweating sickness, the Others that had come attack them… They all died, even the dog. The Others smelled their warm blood, you see. And when they tried to defend themselves, their blades froze so much they snapped when they used them. All hope seemed lost. The Children were nowhere to be found.”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted you. Prince Aemond did not rise. You stayed on your cushion, quietly.

Another knock. No answer.

You looked at him, but he remained laying down. His eye closed, as if resigned.

The door opened, and a servant stepped inside.

“My Prince, you must rise, the meeting with the…”

“What happened next?” The Prince interrupted, turning towards you. It was as if the servant didn’t exist. Being his sole focus both scared and excited you.

He was a handsome man. If the circumstances had been different…

“I am afraid I cannot tell you, Prince Aemond. This story shall only be told at night, and we have yet to cover the advice the children gave him, the death of his wife and the great battle.” You leap before thinking, before even doubting your ability to convince him to spare you another night.

“Can’t you summarize?” He asks you, with a scowl. You fight the urge to cower. You already made the choice, now you must stand by it.

“I just did. If I go into any further detail, you would be late for the meeting.”

“My Prince, the lords are…” The servant insists, a hint of pity on his face.

“Fine! We will continue tonight.” Then, to the servant. “Bring the Lady a dress, and feed her. I wish her to be exactly where she is tonight. We are not yet finished.”

You continue to tell Aemond the tale for two more nights, extending it as much as you can. You are not sent back to the cell, but you aren’t allowed out of his rooms either.

This is a kinder life than the one you led. You still fear him, and dread the moment you finish the story, but you get to sleep in a warm bed during the day, and three meals. It beats fearing for your death in a damp, overcrowded cell.

“And According to prophecy, in ancient books of Asshai from over five thousand years ago, Azor Ahai is to be reborn again as a champion sent by R'hllor. This will occur after a long summer when an evil, cold darkness descends upon the world. It is said that wielding Lightbringer once again, Azor Ahai will stand against the darkness and if he fails, the world fails with him.” Your voice is hesitant as you whisper the last words. The sun has barely risen, and now Aemond has no need of you.

You have owned much in these three days. Soft clothes, warm baths, servants to tend to your every need. You had hoped tasting the finest things in life would make it worth it. But your life will not be long, and the luxury wasn’t enough payment.

“Tell me another one, tonight.” Aemond orders, and you can barely breathe with how intense the relief you feel is. “But no longer here. You shall join me in bed and tell it to me there. I’ll get you a new nightshirt.”

And as his arms wrapped around you that night, your voice trembles.

“Have you heard of the King who sat under a sword..?”

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! Reader/OC

“Lucien,” Eris growled, stalking over to his sobbing and heavily pregnant mate, his brother could only stand there awkwardly, in a fruitless attempt to soothe her.

“I swear I had no part in this!” The Emissary raised his hands in mock surrender as his sister in law continued to cry, unrelenting tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

Eris sighed, and whilst he wished she would stay inside like the Healers had recommended, he couldn’t deny her anything.

His only request was that his brother chaperone her should she feel restless, especially if he happened to be caught up in meetings he was unable to be in absence of.

Eris gently removed his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, overly paranoid that she would catch a chill in her weakened state and ignored the way Lucien rolled his eyes at his brother’s worrying.

Lucien knew, beneath everything, the feared High Lord of Autumn was nothing but a softie. A mama’s boy who would do anything for his wife should she merely ask of it.

He was certain Eris would have surrendered even his own crown- the one he had spent centuries suffering for, if it meant she was happy.

“I can’t understand what she’s saying,” Lucien was almost just as panicked, knowing whatever was wrong he’d surely be blamed for it.

“Well, we both know how successful you are with the ladies,” Eris drawled and Lucien snarled at the reference to his own mate. “My work is done for the day, you may leave.”

Lucien bowed and sent one lasting gaze at the two of them, admittedly unnerved by her frantic state.

Until recently he had never seen her cry in the many years of knowing her, and whilst he would never admit it out loud, she had always been his favourite member of the Inner Circle.

“My love,” Eris soothed her by playing with her hair, she had found solace against his hard chest as she let out small gasps, taking comfort in his scent as he provided comforting waves of love down the bond. “Tell me, what is making you so upset, hmm?”

His words held no taunt as she sniffled, and he would never tell her that he found it rather endearing how she looked- so vulnerable with her cheeks aflame and violet eyes glossy.

“T-That hawk!” She whimpered, a shaky hand moving to point at the tree before them, and only he could’ve understood her choked out words as they were sobbed into him. “I-It pushed a p-poor baby b-bird out of i-its nest a-and-“ the next part was too horrific for her to say and she cried harder as Eris sighed, stroking the back of her neck.

Oh, for anyone to see her now.

The Crown Princess of the Night Court, feared magic wielder who helped slaughter many in the war and High Lady of Autumn, brought to tears- over a baby bird.

He supposed it had something to do with the little flame growing in her stomach.

“E-Eri I want you to kill it,” the soft tone of her voice betrayed its sentiment as he paused his ministrations for a moment, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Make it p-pay for s-slaughtering that d-defenceless creature!”

He withheld a chuckle at the irony of her demand, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head before adjusting their position so her back was flush against his front.

His chin grazed her scalp as he effortlessly flicked his hand, the unassuming hawk turning to ash in an instant as she watched in satisfaction.

No matter how silly, trivial or frivolous her demand, he would always comply.

“Better now my love?” He crooned as she became giddy, throwing her arms around his neck as he breathed in her scent- a sickly sweet smell of a youngling mixed with his own.

It brought a new possessiveness- pride within him to know she now carried his smell with her, a subtle hint of spice and ember imbedded in her natural twinge of jasmine.

He felt her heart soar as she tugged against his own through the bond, her soft cheek nuzzling against his rough hand which came to gently rub at her damp skin.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled, as he unwittingly melted at her words, thinking he might never get used to the love she had shown him- insisted that he deserved.

“You saw me this morning Bunny,” he teased as she pouted.

“That was hours ago!” She insisted guiding his calloused palm to her slightly protruding stomach. “I need you…We need you.”

He couldn’t help a genuine smile overtaking his wry smirk, feeling the life they created flicker beneath their joined hands.

“It seems our little ember agrees,” he mused and despite his biting fear of her upcoming labour, as everyone knew- Fae births were not only extremely rare, but horrifically dangerous, despite it all he was happy.

Despite what having a child would mean, a new threat to him he had no doubt people would take advantage of, he couldn’t help but feel at peace too.

At peace with himself. At peace with his mate and their unborn baby which would soon complete their little makeshift family.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Three: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, murder, serious illness, needles [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you SO much that he’s disgusting about it. He’s extra delusional. Anakin doesn’t love drama HE IS the drama. He's still a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: June 27th

I came to the diner tonight, I love to see you wait tables. You’re so kind and sweet, even to the assholes and shitheads that don’t deserve to breathe your air. Your beautiful smile, those pretty eyes and how you bat those long lashes, that bell-like giggle you pull for those nasty old men’s jokes.

I know it’s not real, but it’s fun to watch you pretend baby. And just as fun to listen to your annoyed retelling of your night when you get home. Gods I could just listen to you talk for hours. Watching your face change as you speak, the acute movements of your eyebrows and lips that tell me how you really feel.

You’re just like me, more than you know.

I ordered some coffee, sat at the bar one of those red spin-y stools, and listened to your sweet lilt tell lie after lie to your customers.

You’re a busy, busy girl aren’t you princess?

Sorry for the messy writing, it was difficult not to laugh as I wrote these little white lies of yours.

1. Saving up money for a car: true, but doesn’t get you good tips

2. This is your second job and life on your own is just real hard: I’m amazed that this one works as well as it does, really pulling on those old lady heartstrings huh?

3. ‘Sorry guys, I’m just- having a hard day. You understand right?’ *sniffle* the only thing those guys understand is the masculine urge to stop a girl from crying and if shoving a few extra bills under their dirty plate makes your day ‘better’, they’re gonna do it.

I don’t know how you continue to use that one on those poor fools, it’s always the same few guys too. They really think you’re something special huh?

You are of course, very special. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that you’re full of shit. I know for a fact you had a really good day. I was there.

You cheeky little minx.

4. Your mom is out of work and you’re helping her out: your mom is out of work, but you’re definitely not helping her out. She wouldn’t take your money if you offered it. (You wouldn’t offer it over your dead body.)

Can’t blame you for this little lie though, your mom really is a piece of shit. Exploit that bitch all you want, she deserves it. I’ve seen those nasty posts she made about your friend. All that because he’s gay?

Oh no! It’s contagious! It’s the vaccines! Gluten!

Come on lady, it’s 2023.

5. you’re getting married! I fucking wish. But, not yet princess, you won’t need to worry about anything when it’s time for that. Thats what I’m here for, I’ll make sure you get everything you want.

6. ‘It’s on the house honey.’ I was so jealous hearing this one for the first time. You’re just absolutely rotten aren’t you? Refills are free.

You’re perfect for me and you don’t even know it.

Diary Entry: June 28th

Angelic. Cherubic. God-kin.

A biblical beauty if I’ve ever seen one.

The way your hair creates a halo around your face. Tendrils gracing the soft contours of your cheeks, the twitch of your nose when you shift just alittle too much and a strand tickles it. The subtle pull or purse of your lips that tells me you’re deep in the land of dreaming.

Sleep is one of the most basic human needs. It’s not meant to be as glorified as you make it, but somehow you do.

It’s intimate. They way your breathing slows and your body melts into the soft hands of sleep. It’s an event that I’ve been graciously given the opportunity to witness.

It was so, so, so worth waiting for.

SleepyTime Tea, a cute name and of course perfect for my purposes. You drank a cup almost every night. It’d been on my mind for a while and I figured… it couldn’t hurt to open it up and help you get an even better sleep.

Now that I’ve had the privilege of seeing an angel at rest… well I don’t think I could ever witness anything more breathtaking.

Except for maybe your sweet little pussy.

I checked and double checked the measurements on those sleeping pills I promise. I would never ever hurt you sweetheart. I was so anxious, trying to make sure I got the mixture perfect.

It worked like a dream. Didn’t it?

Damn right it did. Worked well enough that I was able to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead before I left.

I also did you a little favor or two as well while I was there. It wasn’t a completely selfish visit.

I replaced an old beat up scrunchie, it was past time for you to retire it in my opinion. Now it’s serving a better purpose: squeezing the base of my cock while I fuck my fist to the sounds of your desperate moans, both of us needy for a never quite satisfying finish. If only I had the courage to open that door.

You need a man sweetheart. You need me. Those toys of yours just don’t hit the spot for you do they? Hurts my heart that it takes you so long… and I know it’s not on purpose. I can tell the difference.

Nothin’ can mimic that sinful feel of flesh on flesh.

I took out your bathroom trash, I know you hate doing that. And maybe I accidentally knocked your toothbrush off the sink.

Sue me.

But I promptly rectified the issue, I just so happened to notice you were out of brush-head refills a few days ago and came prepared. You’re welcome baby.

I also purchased the same brand of brush that you have.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Date:

June 29th

You woke up, rolling out of bed at 9:30. An absolutely ridiculous time to be awake on what was meant to be a lazy stay at home day. But alas, you are a good friend, and good friends go through with their plans.

Even if you made those plans a month ago and completely forgot them.

Your cat laced it’s way through your legs while you stood on unsteady feet. You’ve really gotta stop with the caffeine, it’s definitely not normal for someone as young as you to wake up with the shakes. But you’re a creature of habit and an absurd amount of sugar and caffeine were included in those habits.

Staying true to those habits you made your way to the bathroom across the hall, absentmindedly grasping at air for a few seconds before realizing your toothbrush wasn’t where you always left it. With a frustrated groan you looked around and saw that someone… or rather something had knocked it into the floor.

“Boogie!” You turned around and made your way to the living room, interrupting her morning routine by scooping her up and forcing her to face the music.

“How dare you.” You whispered, trying to pull out a stern voice. “I don’t have any new tooth brush heads. What am I supposed to do you little shit?”

You bent down, picked it up and popped the replaceable head off, tossing it into the… empty trash can? When did you take out the trash?

Whatever. Focus. “You better hope I have a spare regular one.” You shot a nasty glare at your cat who sat unbothered on the bathroom counter.

You searched through the cabinet below the sink and through all the drawers and found none. Not even that travel one from last year’s vacation. Finally you opened up the medicine cabinet-mirror combo and was pleasantly surprised but also annoyed, to see that you did actually have a replacement.

“Well shit.” You scoffed, “I should’ve just checked there first.”

Next on the list was a giant tumbler of coffee and a hit of your vape for breakfast. Delicious.

You searched in the catch-all drawer in your kitchen for a hair band, not finding any of the small black ones you settled for a stray scrunchie that lived in this drawer specifically for circumstances like this.

Grabbing the light blue silk scrunchie you went to slide it on your wrist and gather your hair but stopped mid movement. No sharpie mark. You could’ve sworn last time you wore this it had a sharpie mark on it from being trapped in the drawer with a cap-less marker. Weird, but not weird enough to care about.

With your caffeine withdrawal taken care of and your morning duties finished, you slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed your small backpack and walked to the gym two blocks away. Your wonderful and lovely, much more active friend had invited you to a yoga class to meet ‘someone who isn’t a lazy bastard’.

Which… doesn’t really make any sense considering your last boyfriend liked to lift weights but couldn’t bear to lift a finger to help you.

But you love Luke, and Luke loves to play matchmaker. So you’d suffer through this with a smile. It couldn’t hurt and it might be fun, if all else fails at least you got to hang out with your friend and giggle at him drooling over the ‘guy with this sexy scowl, big broad shoulders, oh my god he’s so soft but like in a buff way it’s insane.’.

“Lukey!” You jogged up to him where he was waiting for you outside the gym.

“You’re late.” He stated sternly despite the little smile curving his lip.

“No I’m not. It’s 10:20.” You scoffed.

“Yes and class starts at 10:30.” He retorted.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but 20 comes before 30.” You said feigning concern as you touched his forearm while walking inside.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “I mean you’re late to meet this guy I was telling you about!”

He shoved you gently past the various equipment and to a smaller room with mirrors along one wall. He very conspicuously pointed toward a younger guy with… a mullet?

“You’re joking.” You gasped. “Luke I swear to god you’ve gotta be kidding.” You squeaked smacking his arm.

“What?!” He squealed, pulling his arms up to his chest and curling in on himself. “Stop I didn’t invite you to kickboxing! Ow!”

“A dude with a mullet?” You glared at him.

“Wait till he turns around, the mullet will be forgiven I swear.” He said, holding up his hands in an offering of peace.

That peace treaty was immediately ripped to shreds when Luke loudly dropped his metal water bottle on the hard floors, a smile that could beat the devil’s smirk on his face.

The guy whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in concern, soft greenish tinted blue eyes taking a moment to glance over you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, a soft accent lacing his voice as he walked over to you.

Is it strange to say that a man with a mullet is… graceful? Yes, it is.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You answered quickly, not missing the snicker that Luke made when he kicked the water bottle over to you.

You bent down and picked it up, holding it with a grip that would surely snap your officially ex-best friends neck in half.

“Here let me take this for you.” The blonde haired stranger said, reaching out for your backpack and for some reason you let him take it.

He just… exuded a calming energy. No wonder he likes yoga, he’s probably the most zen person you’ve ever met. Everything about him was soft and comforting. His voice, his beard, even his knuckles as they ghosted across your arm when he grabbed your bag.

“Th-thanks?“ You said in a statement that sounded more like a confused inquiry.

You followed him and Luke inside, the blood draining from your formerly flushed cheeks when he unrolled your yoga mat in the front row. What kind of cosmic curse has Luke unleashed? You shot him a look to burn through brick but he just seemed giddy as if you weren’t planning on disposing him in the sewer after this.

“I’m Ben, your instructor. Luke told me you’d be coming today, he mentioned you’ve never taken a class like this before?” He looked over at you, an understanding smile on his face.

THE INSTRUCTOR?

“R-right yeah. No, I’ve never taken a yoga class before.” You shook your head and introduced yourself in return, holding out your hand for a hand shake and being utterly shocked at Ben’s reaction.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s alright darling.” He laughed softly, enveloping you in a warm embrace that could smelt iron. It certainly made you malleable, maybe even alittle bit melty.

The kicker though? A kiss to the side of your mouth.

You blinked at the audacity, did he just-? But as he pulled back you realized it wasn’t a creepy thing… it was a friendly thing. He just greets everyone that way because he’s a genuinely kind person. You knew that to be true because he turned and did the same to Luke, ending his with a firm pat to his shoulder.

A little green monster clawed it’s way through your stomach at the sight, but you drowned it quickly with the use of your knowledge as a sane person. You don’t know this guy. Luke brought you here because of this guy, he’s not after him, he’s after Beefy McBeef in the corner. You don’t know him, you’re purely getting jealous going off the fact that he is pretty and the realization that you’re not special.

You spent the rest of your time thinking peaceful thoughts to chase away the images of Luke’s tiny pea brain being squished betwixt your fingers for this horrible idea of his, while failing many attempts to mimic the variety of poses and stances Ben showed the class.

Even Beefy McBeef was doing better than you, and you could definitely see why Luke had his sights set on him. Masculine, but not in an intimidating way. He’s right, he’s soft but buff.

After class ended Luke insisted on dragging you over to Ben to say goodbye.

“Thanks, I enjoyed the class.” You said awkwardly, forcing a polite smile.

“Oh I’m so glad, I was hoping you would.” Ben said, a bright smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’d love for you to come back next week.” He said sincerely, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze that made your mouth dry.

“I’m not super sure that yoga is my thing, but I’ll definitely think about it.” You smiled, surely he’s just being nice. Like he was earlier.

“Well if yoga isn’t your thing, I’m sure we can find something that is, hmm?” He chuckled, ripping a scrap of paper from his class schedule and scribbling his number down.

“O-oh.” You blushed. That was the smoothest pickup line you’d ever heard… you couldn’t even be mad about it. “Thank you, I’ll… text you later?” You said unsure about your own words.

“No rush darling,” he gave you a warm smile that matched the softness of his hand that took yours and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

When he pulled back he’d somehow snuck the slip of paper into the palm of your hand, he left you there buffering. You turned slowly to look at Luke who was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Your turn.” You said sternly, nodding toward Mr. McBeef.

“No.” Luke said with an air of finality, scooping up his bag and spinning on his heel toward a few of his class friends.

Luke so kindly helped you make a fool of yourself. It’s only fair that you return the favor. You marched over to Beefy with a sweet smile.

“Hey!” You said, introducing yourself to him.

“Hey little lady.” He chuckled, taking your hand for a handshake, his palm dwarfing yours. “Names Han.”

“Han. Suits you.” You added with a small smile.

“So, Han. You know Luke?” You said, nodding in his direction.

“Y-yeah I do,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervousness you didn’t expect. “Why?”

“Luke is- he’s alittle shy.” You said in a hushed tone. “He’s been talking about you an awful lot.”

“Me?” Han questioned, a downturned grin creeping up his lips as his eyes darted between you and your friend who’d migrated across the gym.

“Yeah, you.” You laughed, “he’s got a massive crush.” You gave him an accomplished grin.

“H-he does?” He gulped, starting to get red in the cheeks. “He’s hardly ever spoken to me.”

“Like I said, he’s shy.” You reminded him gently. “You should go talk to him.”

“Yeah… I will.” He smiled, standing up and placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Go get ‘em Beefy McBeef.” You said in a tone so normal that he almost didn’t notice.

“What did you call me?” He laughed.

“Beefy McBeef.” You shrugged, unable to hide your devious smile. “that’s what Luke calls you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Han laughed, big and hearty, Luke turning his head with a jealous scowl until he realized he was laughing with you and it morphed into a mask of pure panic.

“Oh yes he does.” You said firmly. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked.

“Sure babe.” He laughed, still recovering.

“Introduce yourself to him as Beefy McBeef.” You said with pleading eyes.

“Seriously?” He laughed, almost a giggle if you could consider a guy like him a giggler. “What’d he do to you?”

“Just trust me when I say he deserves it.” You said sincerely.

“Can do.” He shook his head with a snort and made his way over to Luke.

“Hey, Luke.” He said, a slight tease in his tone. “Just wanted to introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and watched with amusement as Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Good. You thought. He deserves alittle embarrassment after the way he forced you into conversation with Ben.

“Beefy McBeef.” Han said, struggling to contain his laughter as he shook Luke’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You watched from behind a nearby pillar as Luke turned fire truck red. He frantically searched for you until he spotted you with a massive grin and waggling fingers.

“I’ll kill you.” He threatened but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Sure you will Lukey.” You said with a laugh, running over to the wall where you’d propped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Blowing Luke a kiss as you walked out of the gym.

After returning home you showered and sat down on the couch, resigning yourself to rotting on the couch. You’d done your good deed for the day, two actually:

1. attending a social event

2. helping Lukey talk to Han

You’d also done your one terrible deed for next few months. It’s never intentional that you do something bad, except this time it was. But was it really all that terrible if it got Luke what he wanted? Nope.

Add that to the good deeds list then.

3. embarrassing Lukey while helping him talk to Han

All’s fair in love and war.

Speaking of potential love and possible war, you rummaged through your bag to fish out that phone number, you even dumped out all the contents and searched your clothes as well.

It was no where to be found and you were actually kind of bummed about it. You can’t go ask for his number after all that, that’s just… embarrassing.

Shit.

Diary Entry: June 29th

Sweetheart.

If I knew you didn’t love Lukey, I’d have been scraping him off the sidewalk right about now. That little twerp was trying to set you up with someone else.

I know it’s not his fault. He’s being a good friend, he just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t know about me and that’s okay, it’s all okay.

But god, could he have picked a worse guy? I mean… really?

*Ooh look at me and my beautiful luscious locks.* GAG.

I could tell he was making you uncomfortable so I got rid of that little paper as quickly as possible. I would’ve hated for you to have the reminder of that fucking creep. The way he kissed your hand? What the hell was that?

So, I slipped it out of your bag and stayed around to listen to your sinister revenge plot.

I’ll say it again baby, you’re more like me than you know.

Ps. Beefy McBeef? Please.

Diary Entry: July 1st

I’m not an unreasonable guy baby. Really I’m not, but you’re on your phone so much. It just really bugs me you know? We don’t spend quality time together like we should.

I want you to dance around and sing. I want you to lay in the living room floor and color. I to watch you suck ass at MarioKart and laugh when you get frustrated and scrunch your nose.

I want to watch you read so I can read aloud to you, with my e-book copy. I want to watch The Witcher with you, I love that show. Shits cool as fuck, sword fights are so awesome I’ll ignore the fact that you only watch it for Geralt.

He’s not real and I am. So fuck it, can’t hurt to fantasize. I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if I said you couldn’t.

Anyway, sorry I’m rambling.

Are you okay? You’re just… quieter. Is it something I’ve done?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I think I’ve figured it out sweet girl, I did some online research and replayed some footage. You’ve not been taking your birth control like you should. Come on baby you gotta remember to take it on time alright? Skipping it and taking it out of routine will mess you all up and we can’t have that.

I’ll try my best to remind you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You know me, I’m always worried.

Just… I’m gonna need to borrow your phone so that I can install some software for you. I’m just alittle concern that you’re hiding something from me princess. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Diary Entry: July 2nd

That SleepyTime tea is a lifesaver.

God I just feel so relieved knowing that I can monitor you. I swear it’s not in a weird way, I just needed to make sure you were in a good headspace you know?

Your search history is so funny. I makes me happy to know you’re just as goofy as me. It also makes me happy that you’ve not searched anything concerning.

Your socials are clean. Your camera roll is full of cute pictures of you and your friends, as well as a few of your ex that I swiftly trashed for you. Maybe just a few naughty ones in the hidden album, don’t worry I didn’t stare. I’ll have plenty of time to do that in person.

Your texts are mostly dry. That’s a good thing though, that means you have more time for me. Even better? No dating apps. Good girl. Those are terribly dangerous, they should require a background check for users, you never know what kind of weirdo is on the other side of that screen.

I’m proud of you babydoll. You’re such a good girl, my good girl.

I’ll help you stay a good girl too. Your phone is mirrored to my laptop, so I’ll be able to see everything you see. No room for mix-ups or miscommunications between us this way.

Communication in relationships is so important.

Which is my reasoning behind the new phone software. You understand don’t you doll? I mean, I can only tell so much from your diary. You like to write and that’s amazing, it’s a great outlet and you should keep up with it. You’re the reason I started my own journal. You were so right when you said ‘it sorts my thoughts and soothes my heart’.

I never thought I’d be a journal guy. Look at me. Self care king.

Diary Entry: July 3rd

I have the most amazing news princess, after careful research and a very thorough deep dive into all of your neighbors, I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our distance issue.

Did you know that the old man across the hall from you is a widow? Poor guy, 10 years without his wife. They were married for 53 years. 53.

That’s the goal baby. That’s the kind of love I have for you.

If Alan Jared Nelson is anything like me, he’s miserable without Gloria Anne. Just like I’d be miserable without you.

He’s sick you know? He’s on a wait list for a liver, has been for 2 years. Isn’t that just the worst kind of hope? It’s cruel really.

Why give the man and his remaining family the hope of a ‘few’ more years, knowing damn well the guy is old enough that he might turn to dust they minute they cut into him. Why put him on the list at all? He’s 92. No one is giving him a liver.

The liver disease he’s diagnosed with is a doozy too, it’s aggressive, painful, and necrotic. He’s in constant pain. He’s got a port for morphine.

Do you know what kind of horrible pain a person has to be in to get a morphine port? Excruciating.

Alan has lived a long and beautiful life. Between the heartache of loosing his love and the debilitating disease he suffers from… it would be a mercy to lay him to rest don’t you think?

He’s a patriot through and through, he was in the army reserves. Now, that’s not my cup of tea but good for you Mr. Nelson.

America’s birthday is a good day for a guy like him to die isn’t it?

Date:

July 4th

Anakin counted the windows over and over, repeating the number in his head as he quietly trekked up the creaking rusted fire escape on Mr. Nelson’s side of the building. Not only was tonight a poetic release of this man’s long and happy existence, it was a very good cover.

Majority of the city was busy watching the fireworks at the celebration in the park, including you. Anakin had ensured you’d left before he even considered walking over to your building. He couldn’t bear the thought of committing a heinous, though arguably merciful, crime in the vicinity of such a pure form of radiance.

As expected the din of booming explosions and crackling sparks masked the noise of the quiet power drill Anakin used to remove bottom piece of the outer frame of the out-dated window. Internally cursing the fact that you lived in such an old building, there’s absolutely no way that these windows are up to code. It might make this task easier, but it made him a nervous wreck to think someone could break into your home in under a minute as long as they brought a drill and a magnet. The process was almost silent, you wouldn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late.

Once the piece of frame was laid aside Anakin used the heavy duty magnet to coax the loose curved clasp that held the window shut, out of the hoop that it rested in. He sighed, thinking he should definitely complain to the super once he moved in. The ease of breaking and entering wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

Sure it was a wonderful thing for Anakin, there would be absolutely no trace of the break in. The man is old, there would be no autopsy, there are no outdoor cameras on this building or the one next to it. This unit is tucked into a well hidden alleyway and no one saw him walk this way. But his worries were based on thoughts of you and your well-being.

Anakin sprayed Wd-40 along the tracks of the metallic frame and waited a moment before wiping off the excess, hopefully ensuring a silent entry.

The moment of truth arrived, Anakin lifted the window just a hair to test it. Finding it whisper quiet despite its age as he opened it and stepped inside.

The interior of the home was just as you’d expect, family pictures, a fridge covered in cards and handwritten reminders. An obscene amount of carved wooden trinkets and the forever mysterious wooden fruit that seemed to adorn the tables of many an old folks homes. Apples and roosters strewn about the space in the form of paintings, lampshades and oddly detailed itchy blankets.

A gorgeous abalone jewelry dish held a silver pendant, trapped beneath was an intricate lace cover that seemed to be made specifically for the coffee table they rested on. Upon closer inspection Anakin determined that it was tailor made. Gloria Anne Nelson must’ve been a talented craftswomen, the quality of work was amazing.

Alan’s display of his wife’s work, her jewelry dish and her favorite engraved pendant… he’d made an altar for her and probably didn’t even realize it. He’d even placed a tall, thick white candle next to the abalone dish. It left Anakin with a lump in his throat, imagining the horrible loneliness this man must feel.

He stood up from his crouched position and took a breath, smoothing his shirt to iron out his emotions. There would be time for proper mourning and reflection later.

He walked toward the short hall that housed Alan’s bed room and bathroom, but stopped short when something on the wall caught his attention.

A calendar depicting a summertime scene of a lake and a small fishing boat was tacked to the wall above the dock for his home phone, a small note pad and pen resting beside it.

A small smile turning the corner of his lip, the sight bringing a fond memory of his grandmother keeping a set-up very similar to this. Must be a universal old person habit.

He stepped closer to read the writing in the small squares and came to the realization that this calendar was not up to date. This calendar was from 2013, ten years ago.

Anakin knew from his deep dive into the Nelson’s life that Gloria had passed on July 16th, but he didn’t realize that July 4th was the anniversary of Gloria and Alan’s first kiss.

She’d kept up with that anniversary for the entirety of 53 years. Poetic.

He took a look around the kitchenette and living room again. Really and truly looking this time, not just glazing over the bigger items, the things that caught his eye. This time he looked at the in between.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, it was something he’d never forget, an achievement he’d strive for for the rest of his life.

Alan’s home was a shrine.

A neatly kept time capsule full of warmth and fondness. It oozed from the very walls of the space. Gloria had never stepped foot in this space, but she dominated every inch of it. Her devoted husband had rebuilt his life in her image, even in death he worshipped her just as Anakin worshipped you.

A heavy weight settled in Anakin’s heart, this was the right choice. This confirmed it.

He quietly entered the bedroom, Alan’s C-PAP machine humming with a rhythmic flow of air, in, *scish*, *puftk*, out. It was soothing in a strange way, or maybe it was just a relief from the suffocating silence that compressed Anakin’s lungs when he was absorbing the space past the door.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, pulling a small tube of lidocaine from his jacket hoodie pocket, along with a pair of gloves that he quickly donned. Wincing at the snap of the latex against his sweating palms, but the man continued his peaceful slumber, unaware that it would be his last.

He lifted the corner of the blanket and grimaced as he placed a small dollop of the cream via his index finger between Alan’s fourth and fifth toes. He didn’t even flinch.

Anakin kept the time on his watch and waited until the ointment did it’s job to numb the tender flesh. Fishing a small needle meant for insulin injections from a ziploc bag in pocket. Drawing a bit of air into barrel before carefully pricking the soft skin, holding his breath as his victim twitched.

When he stilled Anakin gently pushed the plunger and created a pocket of air in a vein that would soon end this poor souls life on earth. He withdrew the needle and stored it and the gloves in the ziploc bag, returning the blanket to its previous position.

He should’ve left then, but morbid curiosity had a tight hand around his wrist. Urging him to stay and wait out this event to its completion. So he tugged up his hood and stood motionless.

No one should be alone in their last moments. The least Anakin could do is provide silent support from the darkened corner. He counted the seconds on his watch until the man’s fingers twitched and his throat visibly tightened as a gurgled ball of air left his lungs. His eyes opened, wide and terrified as his body acted of its on volition.

Wrinkled hands weakly pawing at the C-PAP that was fitted over his head, Anakin watched his chest heave and collapse rapidly, the swell of his ribcage caving in on itself with each labored breath.

He’d heard of the ‘death rattle’ before but had never considered it to be anything other than a wives tale, until now. Alan’s choked coughs and gasping breaths reverberated in his chest and rolled up the stretch of his esophagus, coming out in a groan muffled by his lolled tongue.

He brought his fist to his chest in weak thumps, while his other reached over the side of the bed in the general vicinity of the night stand. It’s incredible what the human brain is capable of during such critical moments of stress. Anakin watch with a fascination that went beyond curiosity, wondering how the hell this guy was aware enough to try to grab the phone laying there.

Alan let his head fall to the side and his fading eyes blurred, but didn’t miss Anakin’s figure. To him, he was just a silhouette of midnight black. For some reason Anakin noticed a bit of the fear leave Alan’s tired eyes, softening as though he was accepting his quickly approaching end.

He stopped struggling, stopped reaching for the phone and instead held out a shaking hand to Anakin as though he wanted him to take it.

What kind of monster would deny a dying man?

He stepped forward on silent feet until he clasped the man’s wrist and felt his weak grip on his. The leathery skin was clammy, sickly to the touch and it made Anakin’s stomach churn.

“Death?” A small creaking attempt at the word eeked out of Alan’s lips.

“Yes sir.” Anakin responded. Was it true? No. But was it a lie? Also no. He was and he wasn’t.

“A-about…” the old man heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “About damn time.”

Anakin was usually quick on his feet with his quips but this man’s nonchalant attitude, his welcoming of his fate was unexpected.

“Sorry Mr. Nelson.” He chuckled. “I’m a very busy man.”

He laughed. A rare occasion if not the only occasion that someone’s dying breath was a laugh. Anakin’s brow pinched together, wetting his lips with his tongue before chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched the life drain from his eyes.

Once his hand went slack and limp Anakin gently laid it across his chest, checked for a pulse and found none. He patted the old man’s shoulder and turned to exit the room, he didn’t look back and he didn’t take another breath until he set foot on the fire escape and the window was shut. Making quick work of closing the clasp and reassembling the metal frame.

He took a shaky breath and checked his watch. Bewildered by the passing of time. He literally couldn’t comprehend it, pulling out his phone to confirm. The times were indeed matching.

Three minutes and 57 seconds.

He was only inside for three minutes and 57 seconds. He felt like hours of his life had flown by, he felt both aged and more alive than he’d ever been. The only thing he could compare this feeling to was… the feeling he got because of you.

He’d done a good thing.

Alan said so himself, the man was ready, beyond ready to embrace death. Anakin had done him a favor by taking his life returning his soul to his soulmate.

It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He thought maybe he would feel sick, he almost did, until he didn’t. He decided not to question his contentment, instead pocketing it to tuck away in the recess of his mind that he stored his more unhealthy thoughts and experiences in.

He liked that about himself, his ability to compartmentalize at will. He liked to be neat and tidy, it was only natural that his mind mirror that. He knew that it was just his mind’s creation; his mind didn’t really look like a neat room of filing cabinets.

He had one for childhood memories, one for his favorite happy memories, one for his mother, one for his friends, one for his work life, one for his home life. But the two most important things housed in the confines of his skull were the golden pedestal holding the beautifully crafted, one of a kind ceramic vase he poured his love for you into; and The Pit.

He didn’t like The Pit. His inner self kindly transported the things that belonged there via a lockbox and unceremoniously tossed it over the edge at a safe distance. Even the figment of his imagination in this scenario was too afraid to peer over the edge of the chasm. He’d never heard anything hit the bottom, if he got too close he would fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and fall for eternity.

Then what would you do? Suffer through a sad existence like poor Mr. Nelson?

No. He can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. You’re to precious, too pure, too good to experience anything but radiant joy.

He breathed in relief as he found himself suddenly outside his front door, he’d traveled on autopilot.

He showered and tucked himself into bed, exhausted and drained emotionally. But not too much, not enough that he could neglect his duties. He checked the tracker on his phone, pleaded to see that you were abiding by your unspoken agreed upon curfew. Home before 2:00am. Always.

It was only 12:30. Good job princess.

He waited, following the little blue dot to the larger red one and switched over to the live camera feed and witnessed you chatting happily on your phone as you trotted up the stairs.

He thanked his past self from this morning and grabbed the laptop from his nightstand and patiently waited for the mirror image of your phone updated.

Luke. It was just Luke making sure you got home safe; maybe Luke wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t a threat to Anakin in anyway and he was concerned with your well-being. Not as much himself of course but enough that Anakin could throw a smidgen of respect his way, it’s nice to know he already has something in common with your best friend.

He did his routine night-time walk through of your device, seeing that you’d turned on your alarms for the next day already. He smiled fondly, his sleepy girl.

He turned up the sound on your bedroom camera, plugging up his phone and putting the laptop on the night stand. He placed his phone next to his head and listened to your breathing slow and relax.

He loved this. Sleeping with the sound of your soft snores and mumbled sleepy words. It was an intimacy that he craved to manifest into the flesh world.

Soon he would.

Someone please tell me that if you’ve waitressed/known a waitress who’s done shit like that?? If not I just told on myself for being a big fat liar.

Part Four

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky

@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani

@ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil

@sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut

@luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco

@sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra

@jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz

@queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141

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@1mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[gremlingottoosilly]

Tag Team (dark!Price x fem!Reader x dark!Gaz)

Price and Gaz have absolutely zero thoughts against fucking a pretty civilian thing that was so conveniently kidnapped just for them. Dream team if you want to be squished between two big men with even bigger...hands.

TW and tags: non-con to dub-con, size difference, power imbalance, fingering, hurt/comfort(but it comes from the ones who hurt you), yandere, dark!141, possessive 141, obsessive 141, kidnapping. AO3

Price genuinely had a great day. He woke up at normal time, unlike always – not at 4 AM, with Lasswell urgently sending him a new assignment even though she was the one to convince him to take a break with his boys for a few weeks. 

He woke up at 9 AM – sleeping in, really, felt groggy and tired even after a shower and a cuppa with the best tea he could find at the local Tesco. So, the tea wasn’t very good – but he made the most of it, taking time to cook breakfast for himself because it was still less shitty than whatever slop cooks at the base were making – even though he knew his cooking skills were somewhere on the bottom of his priorities. He chewed on overcooked eggs and caught a fleeting thought of going to the small cafe downstairs. The he thought about eating his breakfast surrounded by families on their Sunday off, students with laptops and bright futures ahead, not even knowing just how fragile everything is – how easy it would be to blow up this whole fucking building to make a perverse political statement. He thought about some cute baristas downstairs and felt…intruding. Not in his place. 

Still, the day was nice. 

And then Captain John Price, Queen’s loyal soldier, a part of the Special Forces, opened his group chat. Just he and the boys. 

And the girl Soap apparently kidnapped.

— Couldn’t wait a bloody minute, Soap? 

— Good mornin’ to ye too, Captain. Pricer frowns when Soap is grinning exactly like a cat who got the cream – and a pretty bitch in heat on the bed, ready for him. He did god the bitch – and by that captain meant the cutest girl he ever saw. Soft, crying, pathetic thing that was currently sprawled on the bed in a pose that immediately made him want to comfort you. To cover you with something, to help you clean up – after the photos Soap sent, it was only obvious that lil’ poor you were too exhausted to take another round of sex in your state. 

Too bad he and Gaz and definitely not going to stop. Gaz is hovering over you already, hands on your hips – spreading them wide, making you groan from displeasure. His sergeant understands everything immediately – you’re tired, exhausted even, you need some time to relax and they can’t just give you this time, no matter how adorable you look while just laying here. John thinks he can hear you sob softly when Kyle pushes you to the side, allowing you to just open your legs a bit. 

Gaz knows how to treat a lady nicely – maybe, even more than Ghost and Johnny ever could. He smiles when you whine and quietly ask him to stop – he kisses the corner of your mouth like he is your boyfriend and you’re just a silly sleepy thing, and he giggles when you frown. He kisses you again, and again, and it’s over and over until your face is tattered with little marks from his bites. Not quite as feral as Soap, but he has his whole team on a mission to impress here – and he had a pretty girl crying under him. 

— So pretty, luv’. Don’t fret, okay? I’ll be quick. 

— Didnae ken ye supposed to tell tha’ to a lady in bed, Gaz. 

Kyle pushes Johnny away with one hand – he already got more of his fill than needed, and he wants you to stop being so scared around them. Seriously, pretty thing, you need to relax already – on your third guy, you should understand that these people aren’t here to hurt you. Well, they are, but not in a way that people like them can hurt other people. You aren’t being tortured. Maybe just a little bit – and still, no torturer would kiss your cheeks and your forehead and whisper sweet nothing in your ear as he slowly creeps with his hand over your pussy, glossy from all the lube that was spread earlier. You just got a bit relaxed after the night – just closed up a little, maybe forgetting the state you were in just a night ago, when Ghost was wrestling you on the bed and…your drunk, hazy mind don’t want to remember any of this – so you moan and you whine when these new people, unknown people, are coming in the room to see you. To touch you. You feel like shit and you probably look like shit – but the guy with the beard, the oldest looking, is putting his hand on your cheek and saying something – you aren’t quite sure what, but you close your eyes and listen. If you close your eyes, you can pretend you want this. 

— Atta girl. Broken her already. — Thought she’d be a challenge, captain. 

— We can always open the door and let her run for it. Want to chase her with your gun hangin’, sergeant? 

— Eh, just takin’ the piss. She is soft. 

— A soft girl for us. Soap had a keen eye. 

Captain smiled and it makes you feel warm – he looks like a bear when he smiles, that kind of a fatherly figure that makes you think of all sorts of weird things. Like how he would look while fucking you, for example – how rough or how gentle he would be. You gave up forcing these thoughts out of your mind a long time ago – if you can’t escape them, you can at least try to enjoy it. They are seriously not hurting you too much – and you never came quite as much as you did now. And still, you beg them like it’s going to change anything. — Pl…please, I…I don’t want to be here. There are new people – you hope they won’t be up for this. You hope that the younger guy with kind warm eyes and an easy smile, the guy who is peppering your face with soft kisses and puts you on your side so you won’t have to spread your sore legs, the guy that gently puts a pillow to make your laying a bit easier, the guy who is acting like a lover and not a kidnapper, would finally cave in, feeling sorry for you. 

You failed to notice the glint in his eyes – that sort of thing that makes everyone trust him, that sort of thing that makes you embarrassed to even think he’d be soft with you. Because, oh little bird, his hand, the warm and big, fingers already covered in an extensive amount of lube, slowly creep over to your ass. You whine, trying to wiggle out of it. 

He only needs one hand to keep you in place. 

— Come on, luv’. No use gettin’ roughen up when we don’t want you to. — Please, pl…just a few hours, I will be good, promise, just…

His palm lays flat between your shoulder blades, making you sink more into the embrace of the other man – the one with the beard and kind smile, who lifts your chin with his hand and pushes a finger inside. Check you out for the biting reflex – like a good girl, all of your bite and bark and claws were lost long ago. Like a good girl, you are closing your eyes and thinking about England – you open your mouth and let his finger in. Your tongue darts to lick it instinctively, the intrusion almost makes you gag. His skin is salty – like sandpaper to your dry tongue, desire to drink to soothe up your throat makes your voice hoarse. 

— No, love. Don’t close your eyes on me. 

You still don’t open them – a small hint of rebellion not because you seriously think you would get away with it so easily, but because you couldn’t bear to look at them right now. He looks too kind, too handsome, too frustrating for your tired mind. You want for him to stop fucking looking like that, you want for him to stop touching you. You are a rebel, not looking at him properly – mostly because you…

A harsh slap lands on your butt. You whine from sharp pain and it gives you another smack – this is the first time any of them laid hands of you in a way that wasn’t sexual, and you want to cry from frustration. If torture is inevitable, you’d prefer it to be sex rather than pain. 

— Listen to the captain, doll. Open your eyes. 

— No. Please. — You don’t want to look at me, eh? — Probably too overwhelmed. Poor girl. We should take it easy for her. — She would be fine. Simon picked a strong girl for us. — Strong? Never saw anyone cry so much before. — Don’t like ‘em a bit more wet, sergeant? — I can take a bit wet. She looks bloody adorable like this. — That she is. They both laugh. You feel like you’re going to throw up again – the knot in your tummy getting tighter, with each second the rough fingertips are caressing your swollen and puffy lower lips, every time Gaz pushes one finger up your clit and massages it like your hips aren’t jolting in overwhelming pleasure this exact second. You can still feel the outline of a giant cock that was inside of you last night – you’re still hurting, feeling like it broke something deep inside, leaving you sore and exhausted. You just want to go home. You don’t want to listen to their banter, friendly and condescending at the same time – the authority levels are making you feel dizzy, trying to understand who they are to each other. Who can be convinced to let you go after this. — Open your eyes before I fuck you, love.

You don’t want to, and it gives you another smack – you feel like it’s going to break the skin soon, the guy behind you isn’t holding any of his strength and it makes you worry about his other hand, still playing with the softness of your cheeks, spreading lube all around your puckered hole. The only thing that wasn’t touched yet – and it’s used just like the rest of your body now. 

One long, thick digit deepens into your anus, making you whine and try to wiggle out – but you open your eyes obediently, finally, looking at his kind smile. You can almost believe he will be softer with you now, maybe just petting your head and checking with the others – but you can hear him grunting, changing the position to stand right in front of you. A hand under your chin pushes your face up, to an uncomfortable degree – while still impaled on his sergeant’s fingers in your ass, spreading your tight entrance to a degree that lets you know you won’t be walking any time soon. Price smiles when you stare at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, still sucking on his finger like a good girl. He opens his belt with one hand, just barely bringing his pants and underwear down to let his girthy cock slap against your cheek. It’s too heavy to stand against his stomach properly, so it spreads little beads of pre-cum all over your skin. You whine when he slaps both of your cheeks with his cockhead a few times, mostly teasing himself – preparing for the main course. He’d love to fuck your cunt and give your lower holes a proper welcome on pair with Gaz – but you look fragile and overwhelmed already. Captain does have a heart, after all. — Don’t bite or we’ll rip your teeth off. Got it? — Pl…please, sir… Oh, you smartarse. Knows how to get him going – knows how to press the buttons that would make even more blood run to his cock, making his erection unbearably hard right now. He smiles when you sob and cry, tears are really making you look even cuter – he pushes his cockhead against your swollen lips, allowing you a taste lick. A little something, solely for you. You whine at the bitter taste, not enjoying it even for a second – it’s a good thing Price doesn’t really care about the thoughts of a random civvie they snatched from a street. The last mission went up the devil’s arse and they all deserve someone warm and soft to just spread their legs and look cute. Maybe, you’ll learn to enjoy their company after the first few weeks. Maybe, he’d bring you back to his house in the countryside, tie you up to the front porch, and use you like the perfect little doorbell. Fuck his pretty girl for a few minutes and let her moans tell him that there are guests. You will do nicely as his pet. So, so nicely. — I asked if you got it. No teeth, little minx, or you will never bite anything again. 

— I p…promise. Just don’t hurt me, please, I want to go- — Your home is with us, luv. You know that fighting is useless when Gaz slowly slips his cock inside – not nearly spreading you enough so it won’t hurt. The stretch burns, leaves you sobbing as he slowly bottoms down. Smiling when you wiggle and cry, laughing and kissing the back of your head when his hand slowly slips under your leg to lift it. To provide himself with better access for your small, aching hole. 

You want for it to hurt, one agonizing inch after the other – and it does hurt, the man is by no means small, and the only reason you aren’t crying is because your mouth is too busy sucking off his captain. You just blabber something incomprehensible, something that makes them both laugh. You want for everything to hurt, just so you could stop feeling so fucking weird – but you feel the hand slipping down, between the lips of your pussy. Playing with the button of your clit, making you whine as it becomes wetter by a second. You thought there weren’t any more orgasms left to give, but Kyle smiled and pushed his fingers inside of your pussy. Not even wanting to think, you just whine, tongue swirling around Price’s cock as he pushes deeper and deeper. They rock you from side to side – when you choke on one cock too much, throat hurting from the thick length bottoming somewhere far too deep, Price finds his hand lost in your locks, gently pushing you back – deeper on Gaz’s cock. They are working together, perfectly, like a team that has known together for years – there is no hope to escape them, no chance of ever letting yourself go. You want to close your eyes and forget about everything. But when you close your eyes, you can hear the slaps of skin against skin. The wet sounds of your pussy felt ignored as it only stuffed with fingers – as thick as they could be. — You like to take it in the ass, love? 

— She’s wet, captain. Never knew she could be such a bad girl. 

— Little minxes are the best anyway. Not too much fight left though. — I bet Simon fucked all the fight of her. Didn’t he, doll? You whine, not sure how to answer with a cock in your mouth. They both laugh, knowing your predicament. 

You cum embarrassingly fast after this – the rough fingertips doing their job as you’re pushed deeper and deeper into the bed. You hate the damp sheets against your cheek, you hate that you’re so fucking wet, arousal dripping on the sheets only adds to the mess. You wonder if they would just toss them away after this. You figured that men living this kind of life wouldn’t bother with washing the sheets to get rid of the musk. — Pretty pussy feels lonely, yeah? Gaz kisses you again when you cum, whispering praises. Calling you a good girl, the best boy, taking them like a champ – making him and the captain so, so happy, would be hard not to steal you away from Ghost and Soap while they’re too busy with something else. You’re so tired, desperately, you just want to close your eyes and sleep, but they still aren’t done. Still pounding in your body like it’s just a set of warm, tight holes for them – no matter how many praises they whisper. — Will fill her up later. Little thing needs a proper fucking. — Greedy. Not even goin’ to share with me? — Sergeants get sloppy seconds, Kyle. — Glad I took her ass first then. Soap can have her after. — Boy will get spoiled with her around. You get another kiss on your shoulder, barely registrable as you fall tired again. Barely conscious. They continue to fuck you. You’re not sure they will ever going to let you go. 

[c0ld0utside]

May I request a yandere vampire mafia boss? I dunno you can ignore this if you want

Yandere Vampire Mafia Boss Dad

You got it!

Warnings: Inaccurate Mafia writing, Violence, Death, Kidnapping, Possessiveness

Years ago, before you were born, your father made a deal. In exchange for protection, loans, and medicine for his sick (and pregnant) spouse, they’d donate to another family in need. A family that the people in your downtown side of the city feared greatly, not just because the family was a literal Mafia.

They also weren’t human.

And, like most people in your downtown side of the city, they fell into debt a few years later when you were five.

Growing up, you were used to the man with pointy ears, clear skin, and piercing eyes visiting every three months. Your parents always made you hide out of sight when he was around, usually putting you in your room and telling you that it was nap time or something along those lines. Usually, something that involved you being quiet.

Sometimes, you’d peek through the gaps in the doorway, seeing the much taller stranger tower over your parents and speak with them for a few minutes before taking something and leaving. Sometimes he’d be nice, and sometimes he’d be rude. Sometimes he wouldn’t say much and go on his way. Sometimes someone else showed up.

That day was different though. It was the man you saw most of the time who showed up. You don’t remember the exact words, something about your parents falling far behind in their payments and how their time was up. Your mother had gasped and started begging, your father was trying to negotiate, and before the stranger could do anything you bolted out of your room and hugged your father’s leg.

The stranger paused immediately, eyes going wide. Your father quickly scooped you up and handed you to your mother, who started to back up. She froze when the man hissed at her. Hissed.

“You didn’t tell me your woman was pregnant.” The man said, a furious undertone in his voice. “The Boss isn’t a complete brute, you know.” He went silent, gaze drifting around your home as your father started up again. He wasn’t listening, taking in the worn and unclean scenery. Your home went from being well taken care of to a complete mess over the years.

And then his gaze landed on you.

Judging by the looks of it, you were your parent’s first priority. That gave him some relief, but the stranger knew your parents couldn’t balance you and their debt anymore.

“Y’know, my Godfather lost one of his fledglings recently.” He says. “You remember Matteo, right? Poor kid, only seventeen. May he rest in peace. Godfather’s really torn up about it.”

“No,” Your father says automatically. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t take care of them any longer,” The stranger says, gesturing to you. Instinctively, you cling to your mother and she starts to cry. “Now, now, it’ll be alright.” The man says, voice oddly gently. “If you hand them over, you and your lady will live. I’ll speak with the Boss and we’ll see how things go.”

“I don’t think your boss will be too happy about the idea of replacing Matteo,” Your father says firmly, earning a fist to the face shortly after. You can’t help but scream and the stranger cringes at the sound. “It’s not like that,” The man hisses, kicking your father in the stomach and watching him roll into the kitchen. “Now quit arguing with me and hand over the damn kid.”

You aren’t sure what happens next- it’s all a strange blur. Your father grabs something and tries to attack the stranger with it, and the next there’s red all over the walls and your mother is screaming while the man wipes and licks the red off of his face. He sighs in disappointment again. “It doesn’t have to be this way, lady. Just give them to me-”

She tries to run. Tries to run past him with you in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her plan is simple- get outside and start screaming for help. People will notice. They always do-

You’re ripped from your mother’s embrace and are pulled into the stranger’s chest. The smell of cypress fills your nose, drowning out the smell of iron. Your mother screams your name and gets cut off. It’s only when the man starts to shush you that you realize you’ve been crying and calling out for your mom and dad.

“It’s okay, they’ll be okay.” The man says soothingly, but you know it’s a lie. “They couldn’t take care of you anymore, but the Boss will. He’ll be very happy to meet you.”

-

The Boss observed you the whole time the stranger explained what happened.

“…I know his passing was recent, but I thought-” The man spoke up, but the Boss held up a hand to silence him. “Thank you, Virgil. You may leave.”

“I need to get to know my youngling, after all.”

With a nod, the stranger- Virgil- left the room. The two of you sat there in silence for a while. The Boss was the first to speak.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“[Name],” You reply, voice hesitant and small. He notices immediately and his gaze softens. “Come here, tesoro.” He commands gently, motioning for you to come closer to him. It takes you a few seconds, but with shaky steps you walk over to him. Once close enough the Boss picks you up and places you on his lap.

“My name is Massimo,” He introduces with a small smile. You go cold when you see his fangs, starting to lean away from him. “Oh? It’s alright, tesoro, you’re safe. Now where was I…? Ah- yes, I am Massimo, and I will be your guardian from now on.”

-

Your new life starts out rough for everyone. You’re quiet, keeping to yourself and not engaging. Massimo tries his hardest, talking to you as you sit on his lap while he works. He even takes the time to try and play with you, bringing you dolls and making them do silly things. You smile softly, sometimes even laugh, but it always dies back down.

He sits with you when you eat your meals, taking note of the ones you seem to enjoy and dislike. Massimo tries using desserts to get you to be more talkative, but it doesn't really work. He doesn't give up, though. He'll keep trying no matter what.

When you’re not quiet, you’re crying. You ask for your mom and dad, wanting to go back home. Wanting to see if they’re okay. Wanting to watch TV with your dad and hear stories from your mom. Massimo can’t blame you for not understanding fully just yet. He shushes you, wrapping you up in a hug and rocking you back and forth.

“Your Mama and Papa are gone, tesoro mio, but it’s okay. They’re okay. I’m your parent now, you just need to get used to it.” Massimo whispers, patting your back gently. “But I want my real parents,” You hiccuped, making him frown. “Your real parents couldn’t take care of you anymore, caro/a. So they gave you to me. Virgil had to hurt them because they changed their mind at the last minute and tried to hurt him.”

“You have to understand gioia, if they kept you, you would’ve gotten hurt. Your Mama and Papa were already hurting you. They were selfish. But it’s all okay now, because I’m here. And I won’t ever hurt you. Now shhh, go to bed. I know sleeping during the day is hard, but we need to prepare you for when you officially become my fledgling.”

…

Hey it’s me! The end of the post! I feel like making a part two. Still new to this whole “writing and sharing” thing, hoping it’s been good so far. Let me know if I missed any warnings and do give me criticism. You look lovely today! Take care of yourself and drink water. Go have a snack, too.

[waleed-krayem]

Hello, my name is Walid Karim. Can you help me and my little daughters? Donate and participate in my campaign.

Since the war on Gaza began, Walid has lost almost everything. On October 18 last year, just two weeks after the war began, 30 family members and friends were lost in one second, by a single missile. None of them survived, and everyone was under the rubble.

Please let us help him raise money for his family to have a better life and resume building their future. Walid will use the funds raised to evacuate his children from Gaza, search for a better opportunity and build a better future for them outside the war zone.

When the occupation army wanted to blow up the residential building in which we lived, some shrapnel were scattered. On the body of my wife Israa, who is still suffering from it, as she no longer walks with balance. As for my daughter, Iman, she was injured in the head, and her hair, which she loved, was shaved off so that the doctor could sew up her head, which was bleeding.

She cried a lot at that time, and her eyes were painful and swollen from the injury. The heart was crying for her, not the eyes. The house was bombed. Not only the house, but the entire residential building was blown up. We are now homeless, and we are all suffering from pain and sadness. But the grief now is not limited to our home only, but rather to the loss of not one person. 30 people were killed in the same second. My life was destroyed in a worse way when the law office I wanted to move to was bombed due to the house being bombed. I was left without a job, without a home, without an office, Without extended family. I fear that I will lose my daughters at any moment, like other families..

I made it a mission to save myself and my family that I don't want to lose. I can't imagine my life without them. Hunger ate their bodies. The rash ravaged the body of my little daughter, who began to suffer from involuntary urination out of fear. She spoke to herself after she had been the most beautiful child. I want my children to survive, I want to save their future from all this and start again in a safe place, and before I lose another one of my family, I want all of your help so that I can start again, I don't want them to be killed by hunger. We are fleeing from missile bombardment, but hunger is chasing us. We no longer eat so our children can eat .

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