#this fic is a favored child of mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chwefan · 17 days ago

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made4me | vernon

ex-babydaddy!vernon x fem. reader | 7.6k words

i do NOT condone having a baby with a man you're not married to. i do not condone having unprotected sex. please do not be like them omg. this is also a reworked fic of mine so don't worry i am NOT stealing from anyone other than myself.

contains: vernon is the father of your child, you two broke up, unprotected sex, pining, yearning, mentions of a failed realtionship

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you don’t know how you ended up in front of vernon’s place. even if you were the one behind the wheel, the one shifting the gears, and the one rolling through red stop signs and impatiently tapping your wheel at the lights, you don’t know how you ended up there.

you looked out your driver side window to the house across the street. a long time ago, back when the wooden mailbox had your painted hand print on the side, you used to call this your home. now the place almost seemed unfamiliar. the car parked in the driveway was not yours and the mailbox was metal now. atleast you were in your right mind enough to not park directly in front. but you also knew this was just as bad. a car rolling to an ominous stop in a residential area like this would flag the attention of the over zealous neighborhood watch. looking across the street at a house in the dead of night would not work in your favor.

you knew you could’ve gone home. you could’ve let out a deep sigh to clear your head and recenter yourself. then once you realized how crazy you looked you could’ve put your car back in drive and come back in the morning when you were supposed to. you could’ve picked up your daughter the next day and pretended like none of this happened. but you knew yourself better than that, and you knew that reeling from your failed date you came to the old place that used to bring you comfort.

you turned towards your phone, hoping that something would distract you. but when you opened your phone you saw your lockscreen—your happy little daughter trying to hold a pumpkin the size of her body as you and vernon helped. instead of taking your mind away from the situation you were pulled deeper into it. you remembered how happy you were that day, the vivid memories of talking pictures and experiencing a pumpkin patch with your daughter for the first time. like you were a happy little family again you sat next to vernon with your daughter between the two of you, stealing the occasional glances before pretending like you two were only hanging out for the sake of your daughter.

vernon even found it in himself to have a heart to heart with you. while your daughter went off to play with the other kids he initiated the conversation, talking about how introspective he’s been lately. you watched him with wide eyes as he talked about how you two were too young to have a child, and at an awkward stage in life starting your careers to have a baby in the mix. you nodded your head as he nervously shuffled and looked down at the crackling leaves underneath his feet. you saw his shoulders visibly loosen when you repeated the same sentiment, that you wouldn’t trade your daughter for the world but you often wondered what your lives would be like if you had her later in life. the question hung in the air, you could see vernon contemplate asking you what would’ve happened if you met him later in life.

you didn’t want to answer his question. the pang in your heart and the urge to reach for his hand made you leave his side all together, running to your daughter on the playground to get away from him.

you still didn’t have the answer as you sat in the drivers seat of your car. all you knew was that you still could vividly see your daughter holding vernons finger tightly in one hand and holding a small pumpkin in the other.

you knew that your date didn’t stand a chance once he got you started on your little family, and that he didn’t try to hide the knowing look on his face when he saw that your ex was still very much involved in your life. selling the idea that you two were simply co-parenting was alot harder to sell when the three of you occupied your homescreen and lockscreen. he noticed your wandering mind, it was obvious in the way he cleared his throat after you stared at the picture for a little too long.

trying to comprehend your relationship with vernon was difficult. when you were with him you thought about all the shortcomings in your relationship—the lack of communication, hiding your feelings, keeping things bottled up until they exploded. neither of you were able to save your relationship before it was too late, and it could be argued that you two were better apart. but when you weren’t with him, the only thing you could think about was trying to make it work. you saw pieces of vernon in the man you were seeing, you imagined he was with you in that restaurant. maybe it was the familiarity, maybe you shouldn’t have made the mistake of seeing vernon before going on your date. because the only thing you could think about was him, if he was going on dates in secret and if he was thinking of you too. you thought about your daughter, how much you wished you were with her instead of pretending the fancy food on your plate was good.

you knew the moment you started thinking about your family that the date was already over. when you walked yourself to your car you added another endeavor to your long list of failures, all you could think about as you sat in your car was how you gave up a day you had with your daughter for this. you deleted your message history with the man, staring at your most recent text conversations. vernon sat at the very top, his unread message appearing in the form of a tiny blue dot next to his picture-less icon. determined to keep it casual, even if he was the first thing you would see when you closed out of that app as well.

you clicked on the message thread, revealing a series of pictures of your daughter and little updates through the night.

vernon: she likes strawberries alot.

vernon: playing zelda and animal crossing on the big tv.

vernon: she’s better than me at zelda now.

vernon: she told me mommy is going on a date?

vernon: i hope it goes well.

vernon: she ate all of her food. gonna lay her down for bed soon

you don’t know why you felt guilty reading the last message. vernon didn’t have the right to know, and you knew that. you had simply told your daughter in passing that you were going on a date night with your friends, knowing that she would repeat whatever you told her to her father. you typed your reply over and over again, trying to figure out what approach to take.

lol i was going out with some of my friends from wo\

that’s none of your busin\

the date went we\

are you awake?

your mind came up with a million things to say, but none of them felt right. it felt like all of them were attempts at sounding casual. you threw your phone into the passenger seat beside you, and you rolled your neck to try and relieve some of the tension. you let out a sigh and turned your keys in the ignition, letting your car come to life around you.

you pulled out from the parking lot and headed down the road trying to go home. you were positive you were trying to get home, you just took the wrong turn.

then the wrong light.

then the wrong street.

your mind confused on where to go from the restaurant, you were sure of it. when you had the chance to go back the way you let the thought come and go, and you continued heading down the same road. you took another turn, you even waited at the red light with an unexplainable energy as you tapped the steering wheel. the tension in your neck was gone as you accepted where you were heading.

you knew you didn’t have the right to act confused when you finally turned down vernon’s road.

you let your head rest against the steering wheel when you parked across the street. each time the thought of leaving your car invaded your thoughts, you gently shook your head, feeling the worn leather of the steering wheel cover against the creases in your forehead.

“don’t do it.” you said to yourself.

you looked back at the house again, looking at the window to your daughter’s room. you knew that on the other side of the house you couldn’t see, was the window to the room you used to sleep in. you started thinking about vernon in that big bed by himself, drowning in the california king that was too large even for the two of you. you started thinking about if he thought of you before going to bed everyday, if he thought about you tonight and where you were going in your pretty dress.

“don’t do it.” you repeated.

saying it a second time was unnecessary. you said it purely for effect, trying to seem like your better senses were trying to put up a fight. but you didn’t even finish your sentence by the time you were taking your keys from the ignition.

you had already taken your first step out of the car when you repeated the phrase again. you cleared the road quickly, hearing your heels click on the paved road with each step. by the time you made it to the sidewalk you had accepted your fate. you were still weary, slowly making your way across the lawn to the stoop.

when you made it to the small set of stairs you looked to the door in front of you. the last chance you had to go back in your car before you undid all of your hard work. you knew you were being recorded by the ring camera beside the door. you could simply lie if vernon ever brought it up. you could just say you considered coming to get your daughter before realizing how late it was. vernon most likely wouldn’t believe you, and you would most likely lie some more trying to tell a convincing story. but your gaze went from the ring camera to the potted plant that stood tall beside you. you looked even lower to the painted rocks that circled the bottom. you let the ring camera catch you crouch down to your heels. the same hand that drove you here picked out the discolored rock that felt hollow.

you held the rock in your hand, feeling the three engraved letters side by side. you held it away from your shadow, letting the moon illuminate the letters. you laughed to yourself for a moment before bringing your other hand to it, feeling for the split in the middle. it was too easy to slide the fake rock open, and to grab the key to the front door out of it.

you stepped through the door, turning the knob so it closed quietly behind you. you took off your heels at the door, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. you felt like an intruder, walking through the house on the balls of your feet trying to be as stealthy as possible. you lurched past your daughters toys in the living room down the hallway to vernon’s room.

“don’t do it.” you said one more time putting your hand on the doorknob.

you pushed open the door to vernon’s room slowly. you cursed at the creaky hinges, only letting it fully open when you saw that vernon’s bed was empty. you looked around the dark room, eyebrows furrowed and confused. when you didn’t see the light from the bathroom you pulled away from the door. you turned around, looking at the pink door of your daughter’s room. you ran your hand over the paint, remembering the day you spent painting it together. she was insistent on putting BOYS NOT ALLOWED on the front until she realized that included her father. it was the same day you painted the rocks outside. memories flooding your mind made you gently push the door open, looking for that home you so desperately wanted, the home that didn’t change even though you left years ago.

when you silently opened the door, you saw your daughter take up a majority of the bed. her stretched limbs forced vernon’s body to balance on the edge. his arm was slung over the side, and he was so close to falling that his hand touched the ground. vernon was on his stomach and your daughter was on her back, both of their snores filled the room. even when the sounds were disturbing the stillness in the air you felt at peace. you felt that sense of belonging, and you felt the pang of missing something so dearly it nearly took your breath away. your own flesh and blood laid next to shared history that was so massive it had it’s own gravitational orbit.

another revolution and your heart started speeding up. you could stay here for the rest of the night, leaned against the doorframe gushing over the sight in front of you. but vernon was pulling you towards him without even knowing it. you started feeling

all of your steps towards vernon were careful, walking on the flat part of your foot to not cause the floorboards to creak. the good memories replaced the bad ones as you looked at how blissful they were asleep. you had your eyes trained on your sleeping daughter, making sure she didn’t open her eyes while you crouched close to vernon’s body.

another revolution. his eyelashes casted the tiniest shadow on his face, and he looked so serene in front of you. everything was so familiar, even the things you thought you would’ve forgotten came back to you. he pulled you in even closer. you reached your hand in the space between your chest and vernon’s shoulder with no hesitation.

you were frozen when you felt your hand rest on his body. looking at vernon and his cheek pressed into the mattress and his mussed black hair. you hadn’t seen him like this in god knows how long. after you called things off, vernon put his stoic resolve back up. he put on a mask for you, a facade of furrowed eyebrows and emotionless stares. you had been deprived of vernon’s softness for so long you almost forgot it existed. now you crouched next to your ex beside the flower lamp on your daughters dresser resisting the urge to run a finger over his soft parted lips or his smooth skin. you almost didn’t want to wake vernon up, afraid that you would once again have the gentleness taken away from you.

you didn’t know you could miss the view of someone you claimed to hate so much.

something inside of you wanted vernon to know you saw him like this, unsullied in middle of the night just like when you were together. maybe he would even talk to you in that raspy voice he’d always get in the morning. maybe if you woke him up fast enough you would be able to experience the vernon you loved before his mind fully realized to make him robotic towards you again. so you applied force behind your hand, touching his shoulder completely before you let your hand fully cover the area.

you shook vernon gently at first. his body was limp underneath your hand, moving whichever way you applied force. you looked past vernon to your daughter, who had at some point moved to sleep like you. you drew in a breath, applying more pressure behind your hand trying to rouse him.

finally he did something, letting out a sigh before shrugging your hand his shoulders.

“go back to sleep baby,” vernon swallowed and turned his head, facing away from you. “we can play zelda in the morning, i promise.” he mumbled.

even if his voice was barely audible, you still clenched your teeth in worry. your daughter was by no means a light sleeper, but all it could take is mentioning one of her favorite things to have her head shoot up in the middle of her sleep. vernon ignored you trying to wake him up again, and you had to lean in close to the back of his head.

“vernon,” you shook him a little harder “it’s me.” you whispered.

as if you yelled straight into his ear, vernon shot up from the bed. you were spooked, almost letting out a sound when he turned to you with wide eyes.

“what are you doing here?” he sounded lost as he looked around your daughters dark room. his eyes were wide as he tried taking in his surroundings. “is something wrong?” he asked.

“no i just.” you looked over vernon’s shoulder to look at your daughter. she was still snoring, but had turned to face her father. if she woke up now she would never go back to sleep. “i need to talk to you.” you whispered.

vernon blinked hard before looking at the flower-shaped clock hanging on the wall behind you. he squinted his eyes trying to make sure he was reading the time right. he rubbed them just to make sure he was really reading it right.

“at two in the morning?” he asked, voice still raspy.

in that moment you realized it was a mistake coming. nothing good as ever happened between you and vernon after midnight. but you also realized it was too late to go back, and a small voice in your brain already convinced you that you weren’t sleeping in your own bed tonight. so you nodded your head again as vernon carefully moved off the bed to not wake your daughter.

vernon motioned for you to walk towards his room but he still led the way. he didn’t care to walk on his tiptoes or avoid the creaky parts of the floor as he rubbed his face.

you looked back to your daughter once more before closing the door behind you. she moved to the center of the bed, taking up the little amount of space vernon was occupying. you slowly pulled the door closed until you heard it click behind you. when you turned back into the hallway you saw vernon past the opening in his door, looking at you through the space. he was no longer tired and he didn’t have his eyes squinted in confusion anymore. he held eye contact with you from his room, still as he watched your every movement. the living room was the neutral area between the two of you, the common meeting space. you didn’t know the last time you had seen vernon in his bedroom, or when you were extended the silent invitation to come in.

the implications made your bare feet timid in the hallway, lingering behind each creak on the floorboards. you looked briefly down the hallway to the front door. the last bit of pride you had was on the other side. you knew vernon, if you left now he’d never mention this again. you coming to his house in the middle of the night would just be another story of something more you two ignored to avoid feelings. he walked towards you, and you took another step. his gravitational pull made you clear the hallway and the threshold of his room.

as if you had never been in the room before, you waited by the doorframe as vernon closed the door shut beside you. he gave you a second to collect your thoughts, leaning against the closed door as he looked down at you. you tried matching his calm, leaning against the wall until the light switch poked your back. when vernon crossed his arms you breathed in deeply.

“what are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

you didn’t have an answer. all you could do was cross your arms against your chest and avoid his gaze.

“i don’t know.” you answered just as quiet.

you could hear vernon let out a dry laugh from beside you. even in the darkness of his room you could make out the framed photo of you two that sat at his work desk. he followed your gaze and cleared his throat when he saw what you were looking at.

“did you enjoy your date?” vernon asked.

“that’s none of your business.” you quipped.

vernon pushed off of the door, and your eyes followed his back as he walked towards his bed.

“i’ll take that as a no.” he said quietly.

when he turned around to face you, you shrugged your shoulders.

“i’m seeing him again.” you lied.

the smug look on vernon’s face didn’t fade away as he crossed his arms to match you. you saw him lean against your former side the bed, head tilted as he caught onto your lie.

“oh i’m sure.” he said.

you felt the familiar rage blossom in your chest. suddenly you felt regret, reaching beside you for the doorknob.

“this was a mistake.” you seethe.

vernon is quick to move in front of you. you can’t even turn the doorknob completely before he clears the space, coming so close to you that you can smell him. he gets even closer and you’re forced to look up at him.

vernon moves his hand to clasp over yours on the doorknob. the warmth coaxes you to let go of the, and he brings his other hand to hold yours. you can already feel the heat across your cheeks, and you can see the blush dust across vernon’s face the longer he looks down at you.

you don’t know why he humors you even though you’re no longer together. you don’t know why you feel so shy like it’s the first time you two have ever been intimate. you don’t know why he takes his time teasing you, to let the tension build to the ceiling. you came to him in the middle of the night in a tight short dress after a failed date. he could’ve taken you in the hallway or bent over the couch in the living room. god knows you deserved it. but he was flirting with you, bringing his hand to brush underneath your chin to keep your head tilted up at him.

“you look so pretty tonight.” he said.

even though the words rolled off his tongue awkwardly from not being in this situation for so long, your mouth still goes dry. your hands reach across to grab onto the bottom of his white shirt. he smiles down at you and you hold the fabric a little tighter.

“you really don’t know why you’re here?” vernon asked again.

you silently shook your head, hoping he’d show you why. he looked at your lips before going back to your eyes. your hands went to his waist, desperate to hold onto something solid as he pressed his leg between yours.

the movement made your dress ride up. you spread your legs even wider. the thought of him taking you right here flooded your mind. as if you didn’t know the person you used to claim as the love of your life you thought he was going to only give you relief in the form of his clothed thigh. as if he didn’t buy you this dress you thought he’d be careless with it, telling you to leave it on as you rutted your hips desperately on his leg. torturing you would’ve been better. removing emotions from this situation would’ve been better, if this just became a desperate fuck then you could just chalk it all up to being horny after a failed date.

but vernon started caressing your face before he moved his hands gently behind you to pull down the zipper of your dress. he still remembered that he had to hold the fabric straight to get the zipper to work, and he pulled it down in one smooth motion.

you got up from the wall to aid him, and you didn’t protest when the dress became loose on your skin. you only continued to look up at vernon, feeling your eyes become glassy as the fabric pooled to your feet.

“you still don’t know?” he asked quietly.

vernon brought his fingers to run over the trim of your bra, letting out a sigh when you tilted your head back in approval. you didn’t have to answer vernon for him to know your response. he didn’t even have it in him to laugh. something was serious as he bent down to graze his lips on the ball of your shoulder.

when vernon moved to your neck you brought your hands to his shoulder. you kept him there, letting your legs bend slightly to rest some of your weight on his leg. he was strong underneath you, the flexing muscle in his thigh made you want to grind against him. before you could move your hips, vernon worked his kisses up to your ear then completely pulled away.

“let’s go to the bed.” he said.

you complied immediately, making your way to your old side of the bed as vernon walked around to his.

both of your stood next to the bed, staring at the other. you waited for his instruction, but vernon stared at you waiting for your next move. the authority made you swallow your nerves, and you reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra. vernon watched you fully clothed on the other side, completely still as you moved to your underwear. vernon watched you push your underwear past your knees and lower, until you could step out of them.

as you brought your arms to cross against your chest, vernon let you watch as he pulled his shirt over his head. you looked at his toned stomach, how he ran his hand down his body before getting to the waistband of his sweats. you moved from foot to foot, trying to not make it obvious how much of a mess you were already becoming. getting undressed slowly made it feel like the first time again, both of you trying to remember what your bodies looked like now. you no longer felt like the young adult you were when you first met him as vernon pulled down his sweats to reveal his white briefs. as he reached for the waistband he motioned to the bed, silently telling you to get on first.

you pressed your hands into the foam and crawled to vernon’s side. you sat back on your legs, perched and ready to listen. vernon grabbed your hand that was balled up at your sides, kissing your palm after spreading out your fingers. you wanted to press your hand into his toned stomach and travel down until you could squeeze him over the fabric of his underwear, but you let vernon kiss every single one of your knuckles as he kept burning eye contact with you. when he let your hand fall back to the bed he reached into the top drawer of the night stand. when your mind caught on you shifted on your knees.

“i’m not seeing anyone.” you said quickly.

“what about your date?” vernon asked.

you shook your head, hoping that vernon wouldn’t make you say it out loud. the smug smile that blossomed across his face was enough of a response. he moves towards the bed and you make space for him, scooting over until you’re in the middle of the bed.

“so no condom?” he asked.

vernon eyed you carefully as he put the foil packet back down on the bedside table. the option was staring at you both. he watched you shrug your shoulders and look away, focusing on fluffing his pillows. he sat back on his haunches the same time you went to lay on your side.

vernon watched you in silence as you started getting comfortable. too much time has passed since he’s seen you like this, naked and getting ready for him. seeing the line of your body settle on his sheets makes vernon want to tell you how much he changed. how he’s not the same twenty-year old who broke your heart by hiding his feelings. he wants to tell you that he’s a responsible adult now, and that his therapist tells him every session he’s making real progress.

when you settle onto the mattress you turn to face him. vernon notices how you fail to hold eye contact with him longer than a second before turning away. your hand that was rubbing up and down your body goes to fraying thread on the sheets, and your eyes dart away to focus on the wall behind vernon.

“hurry before i change my mind.” you were anything but convincing. your words had no bite as you patiently waited for vernon to fall into his place beside you. “you should be thanking me. god knows when’s the last time you had sex.” you said.

even if you tried to seem threatening, vernon saw your body seize in anticipation when he shifted on the bed. he took his time, going to his back first to fully take off his underwear. he enjoyed seeing you trying to take quick peaks over your shoulder to look at his bare body and hearing your nails scratch the sheets to try and collect yourself.

vernon put his hand on the side of your knee when he shifted his body again. he ran his hands up slowly, his touch light as a feather to try and make goosebumps erupt across your skin. he scooted his body closer to yours, his arm that was between his body and the mattress fell into place underneath your neck.

the two of you went into your old routine, muscle memory of your past together in bed guided your movements. you both told yourselves your bodies were acting on their own accord. that was the excuse echoing around in both of your heads as you scooted your body back to meet vernon’s and why he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. you gasped from the feeling, and suddenly the familiarity between you two filled the room. the closeness of your bodies was nearly blinding, you put your hand over vernon’s that had found it’s place on your ass.

vernon foolishly thought that this position would protect him, that not being able to see your face would help him have emotionless sex with you. but feeling your fingers seamlessly intertwine with his made his heart pound against your back. each time he tried to slightly pull back you only followed him, chasing after the warmth of him against you.

he thought fast to distract you from his heart thudding in its cage before you could point it out. he reluctantly separated his hand from yours to lift your leg, making it come over his. the change made you lean forward to put your hand on the mattress to stabilize yourself. vernon leaned forward, and bringing his arm that was under your neck to hold your chest to bring you close.

“the last time i had sex?” when your leg was locked over vernon’s he made quick work of you. ignoring everything else he used his free hand to reach between your legs. before he could even make contact, you preened your ass backwards, making a sound of embarrassment at how wet you were. “it was when i came over to put our daughter’s dollhouse together, remember?” he whispered.

vernon let the memories flood over you as both of your bodies shivered. it was months ago, you needed help putting together the dollhouse you got your baby for christmas. you were ever much of the handyman, and vernon wanted an excuse to come over to your new place. so while she was at daycare vernon was invited over, and just like now one thing led to another until you were on top of him.

he remembers trying to kiss your knees that were bruised from being pressed to the ground and you told him to go away. he also remembers after the fact you used the excuse that you were lonely due to the holiday season. but now it was summer and you were moaning for him like you always used to. when vernon pressed his lips to the side of your face you didn’t tell him to go away, you only turned your head to give him better access.

“you said you hated me then.” vernon said.

vernon pushed two fingers into your heat and a satisfied smile spread across his face when your lips parted. he sees you nod your head, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“i do.” you respond.

you can barely get through your sentence without your voice pitching upwards. vernon feels you attempt to push your hips back to meet hie fingers.

“you still hate me?” vernon slips in a third finger to try and change your mind. “after all this time?” he asks.

“i do.” you say, shaking your head.

vernon takes your mixed signals as a sign he’s doing something right. maybe by the third time you come to him like this he will get you to say no, maybe even have you initiate the kissing first. he uses it as motivation to keep pumping his fingers into your heat, and bringing you closer by the hand that’s on your chest.

when you try wedging your hand between your bodies to find vernon’s dick, he moves out of the way. he shakes his head in the crook of your neck. he imagines the look of frustration on your face, the one that’s seared into the back of his eyelids as he lifts your leg further. you fall forward once again from the new angle and vernon lets you.

“fuck me please, vernon.” you whine into the sheets.

you use the rest of your strength to push your body back to its side and you moved vernon’s hand down to your chest. he can feel your heart jumping in its cage as you continue whining for him. his chest swells when he feels your desperate hand reach down again to grab his dick. he lets you and looks down to guide his dick to your hand.

when you hold him it’s his turn to whine. he forgot what it was like to be touched by you that he has half a mind to ask you to just jerk him off. he wants to see if you’ll. get that same desperate look in your eye as your hand speeds up. maybe he’ll turn you around, just so he can see your eyes blow out with lust as he finishes all over your fist. but just like always does he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets you decide what you want. when you pull his fingers out of your hole he leans forward, letting his hard dick press against your ass.

both of you are so desperate your movements become rushed. vernon ruts his dick into your ass from the haste, and you clench your hand around his tip. you have to take a second to regain your composure before you pump his dick again. he thinks you’re doing it just to hear him sigh contently and feel him impatiently rut into your hand. you continue to do it, letting the slick sounds of his precum between your hands fill the room until his sighs turn to quiet whines.

“turn around.” vernon kisses your shoulder, pressing his lips into your skin to muffle his words “look at me.” he begs.

you ignore him, even though you both know you can hear him. you both know that the spooning position you’re in currently is too intimate for people who claim to hate eachother. you both know that eye contact is dangerous, that it would only bring back feelings you both put so much energy into denying. so vernon lets you ignore him and plays off his pleads by lightly biting your skin. you moan from the pain that lights your body like a fire, and vernon puts his hand over yours to guide his dick the rest of the way.

“ready?” vernon asks.

vernon says it just as quiet as his previous plead. when you nod and whimper out a yes he feels his heart drop. he knows it was an act of self preservation, but he wished to see your face. he had to settle for his imagination and your sounds when he pushed his tip past your entrance, pushing every inch inside you you until his hips kissed yours. you sucked him in and kept his dick in place, fitting around him like a glove. there was no better feeling in the world, nothing tasted better than the salt from your skin that stayed on vernon’s lips. he put his hand on your ass to spread you out enough to draw his hips back. he heard you fist the sheets and he felt you grab his hand on your chest to steady yourself. he slid back in just as slow, cursing each time your walls seized around him.

it had been too long. vernon was actively abandoning all of his instincts feeling you around him. he felt himself caring less and less about not wearing a condom the closer he got.

“i’m gonna cum if you keep clenching around me like that” he grunted into your shoulder.

vernon moved his hand on your ass to press his hand deep into your lower stomach, causing you to push your hips further back. he swore he could feel himself inside of your stomach, and the sound that ripped from your throat made him believe you felt it too. the new angle let vernon push his hips further into you. you could no longer hold your head upright as you let it fall into the pillows to muffle your sounds. even now you held back, trying to keep some shred of your dignity.

vernon lifted his head to try and look down at you. he could see your eyes closed from the pleasure, and the thin layer of sweat that glistened across your face. the tiny beads and your supple skin caught in the moonlight.

vernon bent down to kiss your cheek, trying to entice you to turn your head again. for the second time, he could tell you were ignoring him. he forgot what you were trying to protect yourself from as he felt your walls seize around him again. it was getting sporadic, and your breaths were turning into quick huffs. when your hand tightened over his vernon used his leg to raise yours even more. his hand on your stomach found your clit quickly, rubbing circles that complimented his thrusting. you finally turned your head from the mattress, you even turned a little further to look vernon in the eyes.

“i’m so close, sol.” you whispered.

vernon saw you close your eyes and catch your bottom lip between your teeth, another telltale sign of you trying to focus. you dragged his hand that gripped your chest to your neck. you looked down at you trying so desperately to take the tenderness from this moment. if vernon squeezed his hand around your neck like you wanted, it would be easy for you both to claim this was simply just a horny mistake, a borderline hate-fuck. he made that mistake the first time, hand around your neck as he told you how much he hated you. he looked into your eyes when he said it, trying to revel in the way your eyes flashed in pain between the moments of bliss. he didn’t mean it then but he definitely didn’t mean it now—like he said before he has changed.

so instead of pressing his fingers into the veins on the side of your neck he traveled up to your chin, turning your head so you were forced to look at him. you were shocked, eyes so wide and your face so close to his vernon could see himself in the reflection of your pupils. he placed a kiss right on your lips, not pulling back until he felt your lips move against his. he sees himself in your eyes again, and he sees his spit glistening on your lips. he feels himself inside of you, and he feels your warmth cover his entire being.

“i think i was made for you.”

vernon meant to say it quietly just for himself as a silent realization, but the way you nod makes him believe it to be true. vernon feels you get your strength back as you push your hips backwards to meet his hard and deep thrusts.

“you still are.” you moaned.

he tells himself that you are just talking to fill the void of silence. vernon also tells himself that you can’t bring yourself to ignore him for the third time this night when you’re looking him right in eyes. regardless, vernon can also feel himself getting closer as you clench repeatedly around his twitching dick.

“oh my god.” you moan.

vernon pulls your body closer when he feels you shudder against him. you start driving your hips back without rhythm, trying anything you can to keep the stimulation going. vernon still looks down at you as you cum, and he smiles at the irony of you trying so hard to keep eye contact. you give into closing your eyes when he slips a finger into your mouth, and he can feel the vibration of your moans around his digit.

when you start getting weaker, and settling into vernon’s hold he pulls his hand from your clit to pull out. when you open your eyes again they’re glassy. they’re no longer half lidded as you grab vernon’s wrist, stopping him from pulling out.

both of you look down at your hand. you look almost as shocked as vernon, like something came over you to stop him from pulling out. vernon takes it in stride, pushing back into you with a force that has you moaning around his finger. you turns your head even further to face him. he kisses the apple of your cheek and then your lips, smiling against your pout.

“you want another baby?” vernon moved down from your cheek to your jaw. “you really wouldn’t be able to get rid of me then.” he whispered once he made it to your ear.

before you could say anything back, vernon latched onto the skin right below your ear, sucking and pressing his teeth in the area below your jaw. the stimulation made your lower half sink further down onto the mattress, until you were relying fully on vernon’s strength to keep your body up. memories flood back to vernon, but the way he still remembers how you sound and respond to everything makes him think he never forgot in the first place. both of your bodies move simultaneously, when he pulls away from your neck you tilt your head to give him access to the other side. you preen your neck towards him, whimpering quietly when he lingers above the spot.

“oh my god.” you start shaking and vernon feels your nails dig into his skin. “too much.” you whimper.

vernon turns your head back around to press let his face rest against yours. you still suck around his fingers, and he can feel you turn your head to kiss whatever parts of his face you can reach. you still clamp around him, your cum adds to the lewd sounds that fill the room.

“can i cum inside?” vernon asks.

vernon closes his eyes and focuses on everything about you. he hold back until he feels your head nod against his.

“please.” you bring your hand behind you to run through his hair. “i miss you so much” you whimper around his fingers.

“i miss you more.” vernon whispers.

he doesn’t hold back anymore as he empties into you. he turns to the crook of your neck, sucking harshly at your skin to relieve even more of the tension. when his hips still you take the lead, plating your hand onto the mattress to give your hips more stability. vernon grips your ass, kneading the flesh desperately to try and ground himself. he pulls away from your skin to whimper into your ear.

you two can no longer speak, only communicating through the hushed sounds of euphoria. vernon brings both of his hands to wrap around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible. you can no longer push your hips back from the new angle and that’s exactly what vernon wants. he forces you both to stay still, to feel all of it—the way his dick pulses inside of you as he cums deep inside of you. even when vernon gives you all he has, you both stay in that position. you both settle deeper into the bed, catching your breath as your skin doesn’t break contact.

neither of you want to be the first to speak or to force the other one to come back to reality. so you two remain silent as vernon pulls out. you don’t say a word when vernon turns your body around to face him, or when he pulls the covers over your sweaty bodies. he returns the favor by saying nothing when your nestle into his chest and you guide his arm to wrap around your body.

if you liked this story and would like to support me further here is my ko-fi :)

#chwefan #hansol x reader #vernon x reader #hansol smut #hansol fluff #hansol angst #vernon smut #vernon fluff #vernon an #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff

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bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

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Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul.

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you.

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be.

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything.

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens.

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you.

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little.

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand.

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is.

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him.

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes.

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend.

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story.

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you.

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

#twst #twisted wonderland #bunni's treats 🧁#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jamil viper #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim twst #deuce spade x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

masterlist

series

➵ cowboy like me | dbf!joel | completed

back home in austin after five years away, you're looking for something to do with your summer. what you don't expect, is to find that something in the form of joel miller. quietly charming, ruggedly handsome, flannel-donned joel. you know. your dad's best friend.

➵ sex on fire | ceo!joel | ongoing

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

➵ sweet child o' mine | neighbor!joel | completed

joel miller has lived next door - since forever. you’ve been a pain in his ass - since forever. one drunken night changes everything - forever.

one shots

➵ jet (post-outbreak!joel) - you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

➵ ghost (post-outbreak!joel) - your loyalty to joel - and your ability in yourself - are tested in st. louis. the reward might just be worth the risk.

➵ call me (joel x phone sex operator!reader) - you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career.

➵ soaked (boston qz!joel) - joel jacks off in the shower. that's pretty much it.

➵ all three dogs (gen fic) - “dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted.”

➵ wish you were here (jackson!joel) - you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time.

➵ psyche and cupid (jackson!joel) - valentine’s day with joel doesn’t go to plan.

➵ san angelo - it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you.

➵ birds of a feather (gen fic) - joel surprises ellie on her sixteenth birthday.

➵ brother (gen fic) - tommy visits his brother's grave.

#masterlist #frog do admin #macfrog

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veethefreeelf · 1 year ago

Text

RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (I)

M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending

None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works

new guy - one-shot, 5.5K - by @kithtaehyung - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Solace - one-shot, 13.5K - by @m-yg93 - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

the interpretation of dreams - one-shot, 13.8K - by @ppersonna - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

out of my league mini Series by @ppersonna (go through their masterlist, trust) -> M / A / F / HpE

lost in the funhouse - one-shot, 9.7K - by @dovechim - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE?

The Body Through Time - one-shot, 10.9K - by @yeoldontknow - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

False awakening - one-shot, 6.8K - by @taleasnewastime - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Between the pages - one-shot, 4.5K - by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

you, after all - one-shot, 6.8K - by @effortandmore - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

the sleeping hours - one-shot, 12K - by @effortandmore again because their writing is beautiful -> M / A / F / HpE

tuesday moon - one-shot, 7.7K - by @effortandmore again. Just read all of their Masterlist, please, you won't regret it -> M / F / HpE

worth all your while Series by @effortandmore (just leave here and go to their page) -> M / minor A / F / HpE

promises - one-shot, 18K - by @jeonbunnie - full Masterlist -> M / major A / F / You can choose your ending

lacuna - one-shot, 7K - by @eoieopda - full Masterlist - this one has a prequel and a sequel, do yourself a favor and read all of them -> M / A / F / HpE

The Making of: Love - one-shot, 12.7K - by @inkjam-moon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Not Another Holiday Romance - one-shot, 32.3K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist - this one is one of my absolute favorites, they never disappoint -> M / A / F / HpE

The Rich Man's Crochet Club - one-shot, 32.4K - by the incredible @kpopfanfictrash again -> M / A / F / HpE

My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold Series by @daechwitatamic - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

give and take - one-shot, 10.5K - by @ddaenggtan - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

midnight wishes - one-shot, 10.3K - by @ddaenggtan again because they write Namjoon beautifully -> M / A / F / HpE

Moon Child - one-shot, 16K - by @adonis-koo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Scent of a Woman - one-shot, 10K - by @sahmfanficbts - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

The Take-Home Test - one-shot, 11.3K - by @versigny - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

keep in step - one-shot, 2.6K - by @jjkeverlast - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

On With The Show - one-shot, 33.9K - by @joheunsaram - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

reflection - one-shot, 18.6K - by @jimilter - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

A Fine Line Series by @moni-logues - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

All Night - one-shot, 12K - by @luaspersona - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

real magic - one-shot, 16.7K - @here2bbtstrash - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

deep end - one-shot, 4.2K - by @here2bbtstrash again because their writing is incredible -> M / F / HpE

The Stand-In - one-shot, 13.5K - by @yoonia - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

doom boy - one-shot, 4.2K - by @soft4gguk - full Masterlist -> M / HpE

s u g a r - one-shot, 10.8K - by @joonberriess - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

rivals academia - one-shot, 4.2K - by @aseaofyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / HpE

Love Language - one-shot, 14K - by @rmnamjoons - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Castaways - one-shot, 25.5K - by @rmnamjoons - this one is absolute GOLD -> M / A / F / HpE

all aboard! (the passion express) - one-shot, 10.8K - by @ve1vetyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Inside My Mind - one-shot, 19.2K - by @jimlingss - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

His Majesty - one-shot, 9.6K - by @yoonieper - full Masterlist -> M / A / minor F / HpE

Dragonfire - one-shot, 7.3K - by @hamsterclaw - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

obsessed - one-shot, 13.8K - by @namjuicyy - full Masterlist - really read the trigger warnings for this one please, it's not for everyone (it's brilliant tho) -> M / A / F / HpE

Untitled - one-shot, 16K - by @ahundredtimesover - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Dino-Mite - one-shot, 34.7K - by @chimcess - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea - one-shot, 8.1K - by @roses-ruby - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

English literature - one-shot, 7.6K - by @tayegi - full Masterlist - this one also has a sequel, be sure to check it out as well -> M / F / HpE

glasses-clad boy - one-shot, 10K - by @jeongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

Love Borrowed - one-shot, 7K - by @goldenkookietae - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Love is Blind - one-shot, 7.4K - by @helenazbmrskai - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

the snow globe effect - one-shot, 10K - by @gukyi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE

there was a bug - one-shot, 7K - by @kimnjss - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

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yan-critter · 6 months ago

Note

Hello!!! I just read your Childe fic and hhhoooooo boy that was a good one 😤😫🤩 if you have a moment could you perhaps write something for Blade from hsr?? If not that’s totally fine too!!!!! I love your writing btw 😊😊 have a nice day/night!!!

Hiya! It makes me really happy to hear that! I'm still pretty new to writing long smuts, so hopefully this wasn't too bad.

Enjoy!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

Yan!Blade x GN!Reader (Smut, Light bondage, Oral, No gendered terms but reader is receiving)

Blade has always come off as cold, unapproachable, and generally lacking an interest. Both in life, and in people.

But now, lying arms bound on his bed with your legs tossed over his broad shoulders, you're not so sure.

In the dim lighting of his bedroom, Blade kneels before you, long hair brushing your skin as you watch the intense look in his eyes. The silk ties binding you rustle softly as he holds your ankles and approaches the space between your legs, stilted breathing echoing in the quiet room. His gaze fixated on the figure before him, bound and vulnerable, your body inviting as you wriggle in discomfort.

"Finally," he whispers, his voice straining with thinly-veiled lust. "You're mine. Now let me show you how good I can make you feel."

Your heart races as Blade draws closer, his presence suffocating yet.. strangely intoxicating. Fear mingled with a twisted sense of desire culminates in you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, slotting his head between them. It was clear how hard he was attempting to restrain himself, and it did nothing to soothe your nerves.

He dips his head, mouth latching onto you as he begins to lick and suck like an animal, groaning into your skin. You gasp, his slurping growing faster at your reaction. His mouth is skilled, practically glued to you as his tongue swirls around your most sensitive parts.

Giving an especially hard suck, you throw your head back, drool beginning to slip from the corner of your mouth as your legs shake. He pulls away to catch his breath, looking up at your disheveled self with a coy smile, clearly proud.

"I've watched you from afar, yearning for this moment," he confesses, his words dripping with fervent devotion. "You're the only one who truly understands me, who sees beyond the facade I wear for the world."

Before you can question what he meant by that, his tongue is on you again, taking a much more decisive rhythm as he sets his mind on making you come for him.

‘If you come, it means you love him’

Your legs begin to seize at the sudden onslaught, and his ravenous pace has you barreling towards you breaking point faster than ever. He's bucking into the mattress, and he nearly comes as your thighs begin to squeeze around his head, pulling him close.

He releases one of your legs in favor of sliding a thick finger into your heat, curling and rubbing at your walls in a way that has you brainless. You don't think you can take much more, pulling your free leg back to push at him, but it doesn't seem like he even noticed, and the building heat in your belly has your legs weak.

It isn't long before he finds that bundle of nerves that makes you see stars, and he merciless, abusing it until your vision goes white. You whine, body arching into his face and legs going ramrod straight as you come into his mouth. And by the way he moans, you can tell he came too.

“You did so well for me, I’m so glad.” He pants, a delirious look on his face as he wipes remnants of you off of his chin.

“You're so cute it's unfair. I want to keep you forever.”

You shiver, feeling the weight of his words like chains tightening around your soul. His love was suffocating, something dark that promised both ecstasy and agony in equal measure. You’re not sure if you like that.

"I'll protect you from anyone who dares to come between us," he vows, his grip on your bruised waist tightening as if to emphasize his point. "You'll never have to fear again, as long as you're by my side."

But as Blade poured his heart out, a chilling realization settled over you like a shroud. You’re a captive, not his lover, imprisoned by the very person who claimed to adore you.

In his twisted mind, love and possession were one and the same, and you were unfortunate enough to be the one to find out. As you gaze into his eyes, you see the depths of his madness, poorly hidden by his so-called love, a darkness that threatened to consume you whole.

Trapped in Blade's home, you wonder if you’ll ever find happiness in the confines of your cage.

And as he laves hot kisses along your sternum, you don't know how you ever considered the man anything but absolutely lovesick.

#yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere smut #gn reader #afab reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #hsr blade smut

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glorysbox · 1 year ago

Note

maybe a fic where reader does end up giving bi-han a son 👀…. man would go crazy for pregnant sex i know this in my heart

bihan x afab!reader (no female pronouns used)

wc: 1.9k

tags: explicitly 18+, pregnancy sex, bihan is soft in his own way, mentions of body image issues, possessive bihan mention

Bi-han is cold. He's a man that doesn't mince his words. Doesn't pull any punches; physical or verbal.

To many, no, to all of the Lin Kuei, this is an apt description of him. Bi-han's word is absolute. He leads a clan of the greatest warriors—he strives and aims for perfection. He crucifies those who don't.

Though recently, a part of you has you doubting the true nature of his character. When it's just you and him, he seems... different. His words aren't so cold. His touch isn't so rough. A part of you knows it's because you're carrying his child—knows that he doesn't really care for you so much as he cares for what you're giving him. The other part of you wishes he acted this way for other reasons.

"On your back." You abide. You always do. Bi-han's voice is low as he speaks, one hand pinching the fat of your hips as the other grazes over the swell of your stomach. He's a man of few words—with you, at least.

"I have to—"

"Quiet. Move your hands." You hesitate, for once. You've always been quick to heed his words—desperate to impress him in one way or another. But... the pregnancy has been hard on you. Hard on your body; hard on your mental state. It's been hard coping with the changes that've come upon your body. The toll is evident in the way you carry yourself. In your hesitance.

It's hard not to notice the frustration that lines Bi-han's face. Your shyness—though not new—only serves to anger him more. He doesn't understand why you're like this. To him, you're, for lack of a better word, perfect. You listen well. You're pleasing to the eyes. You're carrying the next true heir of the Lin Kuei. What more can he ask for?

His brows furrow.

"I won't ask again. Move your hands." He pauses for a moment, his expression still drawn in—yet, he decides to be nicer with you. "I want to see all of you."

He wants to.

You move your hands. It doesn't take long to feel his icy touch on your body again—slipping up the gown that he'd had custom made for you. Bi-han's calloused hands graze over your warm skin, relishing in the feeling of the softness that so directly contrasts his entire being. It's intimate. It's intimate to feel his hands on yours, so adoringly. It's intimate to be on your back for him... when he'd only ever kept you on your stomach.

"You're not allowed to hide from me." His tone is clipped, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your breasts, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "You can't deny me what is mine." He savors the feeling of your swollen breasts cupped in his hands, his aggression muted in favor of your comfort.

Your hands can't help but follow his own. The palms of your hands rest on top of his—wanting to cover yourself—but still regarding his word. You've never touched Bi-han like this, if at all.

He doesn't stop you.

"Bi-han..." You feel his fingers dancing along the hem of your gown, threatening to pull it over your head. Threatening to expose the changes and new state of your body... something that you aren't particularly fond of. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him to leave it on, but you catch sight of the way his eyes look over your body. It's hard to miss. Hard to miss the way his eyes hungrily graze over your body—and for once, your protests seem to die in your throat.

"Again," Bi-han pulls your gown up just far enough to expose your breasts. "Say my name again."

He pinches the bud of your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It's not lost on him the way you whine ever so slightly—or the way his name falls from your lips in a pathetic and needy whimper. Bi-han puts a hand on each thigh, effectively separating them enough for him to fit himself in between your legs. The protrusion in his pants presses against the soft skin of your thigh—and if you were concentrating enough, you'd feel how it was throbbing just at the sight of you.

His hands run up and down your body, firmly but gently. They cover every inch of you—starting at your neck, moving towards your breasts, feeling the soft skin of your arms, pinching at the fat of your ass. It's almost as if he's trying to commit this very moment to his memory. Bi-han's expression is... soft, in its own way. Soft for only you.

"Don't question me." His voice is low, but insistent. Once more, his hand slides over the swell of your belly. "You insult my choice by hiding from me."

That's the last thing you want.

This time, you make no protest at the feeling of his fingers over your tender nipples. You don't stop him when he's tugging your panties down, past your ankles. You don't stall in an attempt to hide your body anymore. He likes you. All of you. You can hear the sound of your blood thrumming in your ear, quickened at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit. It's gentle. He's gentle.

You feel vulnerable under his gaze. Nervous at the feeling of his eyes trained on you so intensely—and a secret part of you lavishes at the attention your Grandmaster gives only you. His thumb rubs sweet and slow circles on the sensitive bud, gauging your reactions while his other hand toys with the swell of your breasts. You don't miss how Bi-han's lips are parted—don't miss how the tips of his ears are red along with the skin of his cheeks. Only you can see this side of him.

"I'm not satisfied with just one." Bi-han mumbles, hands withdrawing from you to untie the cloth belt that rests on his waist. "You'll give me another child after this."

You're barely listening; too focused on the way his cock springs from his pants—focused on the way precum leaks from the tip and focused on how the stiffness rubs along the slick of your folds. Bi-han is like this for you. For your body.

He's gentle as his cock urges your folds open. Before you were pregnant, everything Bi-han did with you was fast and rough—no concern for you or how you would've wanted to be fucked. Now... Bi-han finds himself putting more thought into the way that he touches you. You liked it before, and you like this now. Bi-han, though, finds himself preferring these slow moments much more—preferring to take his time, to focus on how you feel and eliciting those pretty noises from your mouth that he's come to obsess over. His cock slowly splits you open, filling you inch by inch—coated in your slickness that threatens to slip down the curve of your ass in sticky droplets. His hands grip on your hips, not harshly, as he keeps you anchored under him. The hunger in his expression is palatable; the wet noise of him sinking inside you to the hilt stirring a feeling of arousal deep in your gut.

He watches. Bi-han watches the way your jaw slacks, watches the way you grip onto the muscle of his arms, revels in the feeling of your tightness clinging to him so desperately.

"Bi-han..." Your voice is a pathetic whine, teetering into nothingness as he fully sheathes himself inside of you. "Please... I want more."

Yes. Bi-han prefers you like this.

"More? You're in no position to make requests of me." His cock drags slowly along your sensitive walls, hips rolling into yours almost lazily as his eyes stay trained on your expression. Despite his words, he seems to be giving you exactly what you want. His touch is bordering on possessive as he continues to slowly, agonizingly stretch you open with movements that edge on the feeling of love.

“You’re good to me.” The words are foreign falling from Bi-han’s lips. He’s never been one to compliment anyone, at all, but he seems to be breaking a lot of the previously set expectations of him for you. His tone is hushed… needy, even. To him, you’re beautiful—not that he’d ever say it out loud—but his actions tell you that enough. The way his eyes are hungrily watching the bounce of your breasts or the way they’re trained on the sight of his length sloppily and languidly sinking inside of you tell you everything you’d ever need to know.

Bi-han is less reserved as the rhythm of his hips quicken, the squelching slapping of your bodies joined together forgotten in favor of the audible noises that freely fall from his lips. He’s never let his guard down like this… so quickly, without another thought. You’re the only one that can make him lose his inhibitions like this.

“Bi-han—” His name falls from your lips like second nature, the fluttering and spasming of your walls around him pulling a grunt from him. The way you mewl; the breathlessness of your voice, it serves to only increase the pace of his hips against your own. You’re all glassy-eyed and needy and so wet for him to the point where he finds himself nearly losing control. Your nails dig into the skin of his arms—and he doesn’t stop you.

The rock of your breasts is intoxicating to him, his free hand gripping and kneading at the soft and swollen flesh that’s only become more sensitive with each week that’s passed. More accurately, every part of you intoxicates him beyond belief. He can’t get enough.

It’s not long after that until his hips begin snapping into your own, pumping inside of you with such a fervor that has your thighs trembling wrapped around him and squeaks falling from your lips with each particularly angled thrust of his cock inside of you. Your mind is fuzzy at the feeling of him rutting so desperately inside of you; clouded by the feeling of his hands gripping and greedily squeezing at every part of you that he can reach.

Had it not been for the pronounced shape of your belly, he would’ve opted to swallow the pretty noises he drives from your lips with his own.

Your skin is hot to the touch—and when you feel his icy fingertips in the apex between your thighs, you struggle to hold back the squeak that the sensation forces out of you. The pad of his thumb toys with your clit once more; his ministrations rough and sharp and coaxing you closer to an orgasm. Bi-han grunts at the sight of you—the sight of your back arching and head lolling to the side and the sight of your lips parted and moaning for him. His thumb presses into your clit harshly, providing pressure that matches the particularly deep thrust that he couples with it.

His cock drives into you; burying to the hilt at the feeling of your slick walls clinging and clenching and squeezing around the shaft—thighs unconsciously jolting at the sensation. His hips grind against yours—serving to only heighten the sensation that has you trembling under him so desperately—your orgasm washing over you in waves so intense that you’re whining and shaking and your toes are curling as you keen out intelligible babbles about how good it feels. You don’t even realize how he’s spilt thick ropes of his cum inside of you until the sensation of it seeping out of you.

The feeling of cold hands on the skin of your cheek, thumb swiping away the tears that’d slipped from the pleasure, ground you. How intimate of him.

#nsydfw #bihan smut #bi han smut #mk bihan #bi han x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat smut #mk1 smut #mortal kombat 1 smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk #writing

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 4 months ago

Text

織姫

cw. f!reader (afab), canon divergent, manga spoilers, established relationship, dissociation, canon-typical violence, non-linear storytelling

pairing. makima x reader

notes. part of the man is a blazing star universe so i would give the two previous fics a read before diving into this one as it is key to understanding everything here. in a way, orihime 「織姫」 is a love letter to what was originally a duology so i hope old readers enjoy spotting the references! i had a lot of fun experimenting with detailing, when not to use it and even when only relying on only dialogue to carry a scene and i hope the payoff works in my favor.

Dawn is a time of day you appreciate more when you don’t have work.

While you ordinarily complained how the hours in those days vanished before you could enjoy them, dawn has always been the exception. Your early mornings have always moved slower compared to the rest. It’s a slow, quiet whisper you value fully, especially now as you enjoy the sound of the waves as you walk your assorted mix of pets on the beach. You’re sure the two of you look like quite the pair with your seven dogs on their leashes and one of your two cats in a leashed harness.

Makima is a woman bathed in the light of dawn.

You release a sigh of satisfaction, watching your girlfriend go ahead of you as your dogs stretch their legs.

It’s in how the morning rays dapple her form in near perfect circles. In the hues of her pale carmine hair that cascades across her bare skin. It’s even in the gold of her eyes, much like the yellow sun that peeks through the horizon.

It’s strange to think that this time two years ago, Makima had been a colleague you couldn’t stand to be around. Now you’ve willingly allowed a string of fate the exact shade as her hair to bind you both in the most irrevocable of ways.

“I won’t use my power on you, in exchange, we have to stay together forever. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together, and live a happy life together.”

The contract of a lifetime ー marriage in its own right.

Gone are the days of patrols, weapons and putting your life on the line to ensure the safety of the general populace.

How peculiar this entire journey has been.

You will never pretend your reasons for joining the Bureau were pure of heart; you’d never dreamed of glory or protecting others.

For Makima, you’d gladly put your entire being on the line.

It goes against the nature of the Control Devil to have equal relationships.

Makima has one with you.

Moral ambiguities be damned. I believe in you. It’s a vow you know you will take to your grave as you watch your lover pause, wondering what has caught her excitable dogs’ eyes. Bagheera’s crooked tail tip twitches in interest, bounding forward with clumsy footsteps and you chuckle as you increase your pace so the cat can see it too. Tora, on the other hand, is comfortable in her backpack carrier. This is how mornings are done in your family. “What’s got the troublesome octet so excited?”

“They’ve found a crab,” her voice is amused and mellifluous. Crab sounds like a wonderful idea for dinner and you’re sure she has the same idea when you hear dulcet giggles slip from her person. Like a child, Makima turns to face you with her lips stretched into a delighted smile.

It’s then that carmine suddenly becomes jet and there’s a mole underneath her left eye that wasn’t there before.

Ah.

“[First], I want crab for dinner!” Nayuta beams brightly.

“Damn you have expensive taste,” you tease in spite of your stupor. Right. Those memories aren’t mine.

The dogs you walk remain but all but two of five of them are different from the seven you could have sworn were with you just a moment ago. Bagheera isn’t with you either, succumbing to his health issues years ago when you were still a child. All that remains of the cats you adopted is Tora, an old lady you left at home to snore on the couch with the Power's new kitten.

“Have ‘em,” Himeno told you shortly after you moved in with her in the quiet town of Shonai. “They were yours anyway. Oh, but Meowy’s always been Power’s.”

The ringed eyes are the only part of Nayuta that is the same as the woman from your memories. The eyes and the braid you know she'll twist her hair into later.

You wish the image of that woman would disappear.

Thankfully Nayuta is seemingly unaware of your dilemma. “I’ll get some in a few checks,” you promise and you receive an impish grin in return. You smile instinctively, your earlier troubles assuaged.

It’s a magic only Nayuta possesses.

The magic is disturbed when one of the dogs yelps in pain and Nayuta guffaws at the display of a small crab latched onto its nose.

You wonder if you had grown up surrounded by humans if you would find her reaction unsettling. As one raised among devils and fiends, however, Nayuta’s reaction is only standard even as she yanks the crab away with ease and tosses it into a returning wave. “That’ll teach you not to play with crabs,” Nayuta laughter subsides into chuckles as she pets the pup’s head.

You love the dawn.

How the wind runs its invisible fingers through Nayuta's hair much like a musician strumming the strings of a harp.

How the light of the sun crests Nayuta's head much like a halo although you're sure the god of such beings will likely you spurn you for the comparison. How ironic that a devil is the closest comparison you have to the opposing pole.

When it’s like this, it’s easy to pretend you and Nayuta are the last ones on earth on this beach.

There are no devil hunters, no other humans and there are no other devils either.

You digress that the truth of your reality is fine, however.

You work 6 out of 7 days in a week at a local convenience store all the while Nayuta pursues a degree through online courses at Tohoku University. Himeno goes to the pub once or twice every other week to indulge in the non-alcoholic beverages her sister allows her to drink. Even Power somehow manages a steady job helping Ichika sell the vegetables she grows in the garden. A well-placed hat and even a Fiend can blend in to some extent.

Work is limited for a Fiend in hiding from the government.

Everything is limited when it’s the Control Devil remaining out of the government’s sight.

“Do you ever wish you could actually go on campus?”

“Not particularly.”

Nayuta’s never really been a people person though, so you suppose it truly doesn’t matter to her whether she can physically attend Tohoku or not. So you subsequently deduce that she likely won’t care that she’ll be limited to working remotely for the rest of her life either.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-”

Unwittingly, your mind drifts back to the red-haired woman as you watch the loose strands of Nayuta’s hair dance in the wind. Makima.

You don’t know much about the previous incarnation of the Control Devil save for what tidbits you allowed Himeno and Kishibe to tell you. Himeno did her best to sugarcoat it but blunt as Kishibe was, you know for certain that Makima wasn’t the kindest individual.

“ー kept her on a tight leash when she was alive,” the drunkard raised his flask to his lips for the tenth time in the three minutes. Every fiber of your being burns with a hatred for a man that isn’t wholly your own at the comment. “But even with that leash, she was a ticking time bomb. So keep this one on a leash that’s even tighter. Otherwise, she’ll turn out like Makima again.”

Makima is Makima, Nayuta is Nayuta.

ー is ー, you’re you.

“Hey, Nayuta, pick a country,” you call for the one you love. The one you love. The proof is when she turns and Nayuta is all that remains. You don't hate Makima. You don’t think it’s possible to hate any incarnation of the Control Devil. But Makima is who ー loved and their sun had long since fallen. “One that doesn’t have a devil hunting association in it.”

“Seychelles,” Nayuta doesn’t miss a beat, grinning the devilish grin you adore all the while. “We still need to have our honeymoon.”

A dirty sheet turned into a veil rests on jet black hair while you recited your on-the-fly vows.

“Yeah,” you chuff as you rest your hands in your pocket. “I owe you one, huh?”

A honeymoon and the whole wedding too.

ー

“What’s this new job of yours again?”

“I got a gig cashiering the next town over,” you pinch the green collar of your uniform as a physical display of your employment.

Himeno’s one eye closes as she hums thoughtfully into her mug, “what about your job at the konbini?” Her smile is as plastered as wet cement.

“It doesn’t pay as much,” you shrug. It isn’t the first time Himeno has made some sort of stir about your sudden change in employment, it likely won’t be the last. “If I’m gonna get paid to kiss ass all day, I at least wanna get paid more than chump change.”

“You make chump change as a cashier no matter where you work,” you choose to ignore Himeno’s comment. When her sister’s sharp stare of disapproval lands on the former devil hunter, you know the conversation will be dropped for now. Thanks, Ichika.

Ichika smiles kindly, always a touch too gentle and understanding. It’s easy to appreciate the woman’s soft-hearted nature. “Well, I for one, am glad you have a pay raise even if it’s somewhere else,” the dark-haired woman tells you. “We both are,” her soft blue eyes dare her sister to disagree with her sentiments. Himeno is smart enough not to voice against them. Gentle as Ichika is, Himeno will always crumble at the threat of her anger. “What time will you be home? We should eat something special to celebrate!”

“Crab sound good this weekend?” At your suggestion, Nayuta perks with interest for the first time since breakfast began. You bump your knees together lightly. With what you’ll be making now, you can afford to buy her crab every night. “I can pick some up before I head back after my last shift of the week.”

On the other side of the table, Power is just as interested in the suggestion. “Crab,” the horned woman inquires with a fiendish grin. “Finally something worthy of my taste buds! Servant,” the Blood Fiend’s strawberry-colored locks whip around in her excitement. It’s only barely doused by the unamused look Himeno shoots in her direction. Barely. “Human,” an improvement. “Make a crab dish for us!”

Ichika takes Power’s demands in stride, “I think crab would be a nice treat. Don’t you?”

Matching blue gazes share a quiet conversation before Himeno relents with a tired smile, “I guess crab isn’t that bad an idea.”

Power guffaws with prideful glee as Nayuta’s expression twists into impish satisfaction. Her few-weeks-old dream of crab will finally be fulfilled. A peaceful glow washes over you as you take in the sight of her drinking miso soup from a finely polished bowl.

Himeno’s house is a far cry from the abandoned building you both once called home.

The wooden floor is clean, not dirtied from even filthier shoes and haphazardly drawn images made with sharp rocks used as chalk. In this house, you have three meals a day. The limit to what you can take is no longer reduced to only what you’re able to carry.

It’s a life you always dreamed you’d one day share.

Although admittedly you never accounted for the additional humanoid bodies living in it.

“Well, I gotta get goin’,” you slurp the last of your black tea before wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “See you guys later,” you stack your dishes neatly atop one another, waving off Ichika’s attempt to take them from you. “See you later,” you tell Nayuta warmly, pressing your lips against hers for only a moment to spare yourself from feeling one of Power’s dirty napkins hitting your shoulder. “Have a good day at school.”

“Call me for lunch,” to the untrained ear, it’s a demand. To one as experienced as yourself in the language of Nayuta, it’s a request.

It’s an uncannily peaceful morning for a household of humans, fiends and devils. One that religious zealots would lose their minds over.

On an ordinary morning you yearn for the comfort of your and Nayuta’s bed and letting the hours roll by as you embark on your quest for work. This time, your stomach twists with discomfort as you hit the freeway.

It’s nearly an ordinary morning.

As you promptly pass the exit that actually would have led to the town next door, you know the last chance for ‘ordinary’ has sailed. The nearly three hours long drive it takes to get to Sendai is long enough for you to stew in your guilt. You park inconspicuously near the woodsy outskirts of the city, thumbs resting on the steering wheel.

It’s too late to turn back now, you remind yourself. I’m doing this for us.

Two adult passports.

Visas.

Housing.

Food.

Permanent Residency.

You’d never be able to save for it all with the chump change you’d been making at the local konbini. Nor would Nayuta ever be able to live a free life under the restrictions placed on you by those who took you in. There is no major country in the world Nayuta can be free in.

Nayuta had been a stranger, once upon a time. A stranger who never existed in your conscience and whose life you never perceived.

Then your eyes met and you experienced the birth of a universe.

You’ll gladly put your entire being on the line.

“Do you want to protect Nayuta?” Your grip tightens for a moment longer before finally reaching for the duffle bag you hid underneath the passenger seat.

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“Then follow two rules. Stay away from major cities and don’t join the Public Safety Devil Hunters.”

You've technically broken only one of Kishibe’s rules.

ー

Your parents used to take the first day of school very seriously.

It was always a momentous time when you went up a grade level. Photos were snapped constantly and after the first day ended successfully, there’d always be some sort of celebratory dinner. When you saw Ichika tearfully take in yours and Nayuta’s uniforms, you can tell things in this household were going to go the same way.

“The two of you are starting to become young women,” she smiled sappily, polaroid camera already in hand. “It feels like it was only yesterday you two came here and now you’re already going to school! You’re both so beautiful!”

Nayuta certainly was, you wanted to say. Her chin-length black hair now stretched to the upper middle of her back, framing her gold-colored eyes perfectly. But that would only make Ichika gush further about how you both were equally gorgeous like a proud mother.

You’d have thought you and Nayuta were infants when you were brought to this house with how Ichika coo’d and aww’d. Except the two of you were already thirteen when you’d come to the Nagano household and a year later, the school term had been going on for a few months. It had been unclear if you’d be starting high school or being held back. Donned in the dark brown uniform of Higashi Middle School, you knew the answer.

Even Power had on a uniform, refusing to be left out of the celebrations.

“That’s right, our little women,” Himeno laughed, holding an energy drink like it was a beer can. “Smile for the camera!”

You were able to turn the corners of your lips into a smile but, if anything, Nayuta’s scowl only deepened.

“Nayuta,” Himeno sighed in frustration. “I know you’re upset that you and [First] are in different classes but we’ve been through this. It’ll be good for you. Ichika,” she looked to her sister for support, blue eyes pleading. “back me up on this.”

Nagano Younger placed the camera down with an empathetic smile, “don’t you want to make friends?”

Ringed yellow eyes practically glowed as Nayuta sharply looked at the woman, “what do we need friends for? All [First] needs is me.”

The Nagano sisters shared a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation. The primary debate of the weekend had finally reared its ugly head just before you were due to leave. Before either of them could say anything to placate their youngest ward, however, Power's manic laughter filled the air. When she had her fill of amusement, she rubbed the bottom of her nose as her laughs faded into chuckles. “The Great Power was once this immature,” Once? “Nayuta!” She points a sharp nail in the direction of the only other non-human in the house. “Stop behaving like a child! You’re reflecting poorly on my teachings!”

“Bark like a dog.”

Power dropped on all fours and barked the moment the demand left Nayuta’s mouth. The actual dogs in the house went into an excited frenzy, barking alongside with her.

“What did I tell you about taking your powers out on people because you’re upset,” all hints of playfulness left Himeno’s body in favor of displeasure. “Nayuta,” she placed her energy drink on the table at the young devil’s silence. Ichika sighed quietly, placing her camera down before she quietly turned to the kitchen.

“The two of you need to learn how to interact with people. Outside of the house,” the former devil hunter took a glance at the barking fiend. When she sighed, you knew Himeno likely thought that even the interactions within the house needed some work. “Now hurry up and turn Power back.” Nayuta directed her gaze to the nearest window instead. “Nayuta, I’m not asking.”

“Just wait a moment,” Ichika’s lark-like voice rang from where she went about her business. Hurriedly, she arrived with two bowls of ice cream in hand. With her sharp sense of smell, it captured Nayuta’s attention immediately and she held out her hands expectantly. “Don’t you have something you need to do first, young lady?”

Nayuta blinked, seemingly confused as she followed her gaze to where Power crawled on the floor. In the blink of an eye, the barking stopped. “Thank you,” Ichika nodded in satisfaction before she finally handed you both a bowl each, winking at you knowingly.

Power returned to her feet, cheeks hot with anger but whatever she was going to say, she stopped in her tracks the moment you held the bowl of ice cream Ichika gave you directly under her nose. It only took a beat before the Blood Fiend grinned, lifting the bowl as if it's her newest kill. “Gahahaha! I suppose I can accept your humble offerings,” you snorted quietly at the display. If anyone was the child in this house, it was her.

Himeno threaded her fingers through gray and navy blue hair with a whiny sigh, “everyone in this house wants me to age, Ichika. And we can’t just use ice cream to bribe her into behaving! Why does she get ice cream if I don’t get to keep beer!”

“Because your doctor said to either quit or be placed on a liver transplant list so you’d have a head start,” Himeno withered under her sister’s less-than-amused glare. “And I hope you savor that energy drink. Remember what we agreed on - one can per month.”

“And it’s always the smallest size possible,” Himeno grumbled, looking much like a child herself. If you hadn’t known who the older sister was, you would have assumed otherwise. “And low in sugar so it tastes absolutely disgusting.”

Ichika ignored the jab, knowing her sister would drink the disgusting low-sugar drink regardless. “Nayuta,” she began thoughtfully. “I know how important it was for you that you and [First] be in the same class. But there are going to be times when you have to interact with other people and we want you to be able to navigate those times with ease. There are going to be more opportunities for you both to be in the same class, we just want you to be okay with times where you aren’t.” When Ichika looked to you for assistance, Nayuta’s golden gaze turned to you as well.

We can socialize and be in the same class at the same time, can’t we? Truthfully, you hadn’t been thrilled with the class assignments either. It had been you against the world before you met Nayuta when you were left alone on the streets of Beijing. Not knowing what would happen to you with your parents gone, school didn’t seem all too important. You think you might have liked school, you truthfully can’t remember. You even had friends, good friends. You couldn’t seem to remember their faces either. Too much had happened to hold onto those memories.

The last time you’d been in school, you were seven.

It took a fair bit of home study for you and Nayuta to be ready for even middle school. If you had to go to school again, you wanted it to be by each other’s side. The school administration had different thoughts, it seemed. But underneath Ichika’s hopeful eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to spurn her goodwill. You liked Ichika, she was kind. “If we’re in different classes, we can go on dates for lunch. And I can walk you to class each day, like in the movies.”

It’s only when she heard those words that Nayuta looked even remotely enthused about your separation.

“See?” Ichika’s smile widened in her appreciation.

“Alright,” Nayuta leaned against you, not entirely pleased but no longer entirely upset.

It was a solid victory as far as Ichika was concerned.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. Nayuta and Power indulged in their ice cream and when they were finished, Ichika indulged in getting her celebratory photo. Power held her peace sign while yours and Nayuta’s arms were linked tightly. Lunches packed and promises of an extravagant dinner made, the two of you finally left home hand in hand.

ー

“I know damn well that a Fish Devil costs more than that,” you scowl at your employer. “I didn’t drive over two hours to Sendai for you to stiff me on the price. I’ll take this to Yamaguchi if I have to.” That’s the problem with these underground devil hunting jobs. If someone wants to short change you, they will short change you. It’s been five months since you’ve begun your dealings with Nishida and the oaf never ceases trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

“Come on now, [Last],” the slimy businessman raises his hands as if placating a child. He looks more like a Pimp Named Slickback with his crinkled purple suit than someone who works in devil hunting. You suppose one working under the table can’t complain. “We’re old friends, aren’t we?”

“Tell me that when we’ve known each other for a decade,” you point your gloved finger against the desk two, three, four times. Each thudding strongly against the tabletop rattling the bloody axe you’ve placed on it. “550,000 yen. I don’t want even a decimal less.”

Nishida’s lips curl in dismay, “have I ever told you that you’re a real bitch to work with?”

You’ll continue to be one until you’ve gathered all you could, “acknowledgement from the queen of bitches is a real honor. I want my check.”

He rolls his eyes and calls you a few more choice swears under his breath, but he finally complies in writing a check with the correct amount. If you had been anyone else, perhaps Nishida could have paid you the 230,000 yen without issue. Perhaps you’d have even considered that a steal. Your training under Kishibe and Himeno taught you more about pricing devils than you were prepared to admit.

What are the ethics to killing devils when you are dating one?

You decide to follow the devil code of ethics. Kill or be killed, it’s that simple.

It’s never been a question if Nayuta would spurn you for such acts if she were to ever learn of them. It’s the fact you know Nayuta would follow you to Sendai in a heartbeat.

“I found the C-”

You will never bring those unfinished words to reality.

Carefully you remove the gloves on your hands to even more carefully extract your wallet from the ziplock bag you keep it in, placing your check within its pockets. Then you tuck it all away once more before donning a clean pair of gloves instead.

“Ugh, I’m getting hot just looking at you,” Nishida groans, eying you as if you were equal parts insane and excessive. You wonder if he’ll ever get used to the lengths you go to make sure no trace of blood and the smells of other devils touch your person. You don’t even put your axe in the car, it hasn’t been there since it had been a new purchase. No, you keep the rusting thing right here in Nishida’s crappy building in Sendai’s slums.

Trying to hide something from Nayuta’s nose is like trying to rob a bank blindfolded. “I told you already, I don’t want the blood getting on me. Killing devils is gross,” you wave the man off. Five months you’ve been doing this and you haven’t slipped up yet. Your ritual is the same each time ー before you start hunting, you dress in what is practically a glorified hazmat suit. Once work is done, you take it all off with gloves covering your hands and dump it in the trash.”

“It just seems like a lot of hassle,” Nishida scratches the back of his head, nonplussed. “If this ever gets in the way of your job, don’t come crying to me.”

“This coming from the man who doesn’t do the hunting himself is crazy,” you click your tongue in unsurprised annoyance. If it means keeping your proclivities a secret from the house, you’ll wear the hazmats again and again. “I’m not coming in tomorrow, I have a date with my girlfriend. Something you know nothing about. Well, you did. Until about a month ago, right?”

The look on Nishida’s face almost makes you feel better about his attempt to scam you. Almost. “Just go home before I decide to take my offers of employment elsewhere!”

You chortle with pleasure as you finally exit his dusty office.

When you arrive home, the wind must have blown your scent through the door or a cracked window because you walk into Makima’s arms the moment you pass through the door. “Welcome home, [First],” Makima greets you adoringly, red tresses brushing against your jaw. Her arms are as warm as her voice, wrapped around you as loose as one called the Control Devil will allow.

It’s instinctive, how quickly you return the embrace. “That professor finally off your ass?” Strange. Since when has Makima been a student?

Nayuta pulls away from you slightly, just enough to look you in the eye as you converse. Nayuta is the student, you remember. Business management is what she studies. “I don’t know why he-” Nayuta blinks as she takes all of your visuals in. “[First], what’s wrong?”

Your smile falters, “it’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Tired of the memories that don’t belong to you. “Management just really loves working their best employee.” You’re happy tonight is Himeno and Ichika’s pub night where they never drink alcohol but do engage in the card games with the locals. Himeno’s been trying to catch in the midst of a lie you’re sure no one can detect.

“Want me to talk to them then?” Nayuta is too quick to offer her services. I’m earning more than enough now. “I’ll get you a manager’s salary too.”

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I just want it to be tomorrow for our date already.” You’ll be dying silk scarves in town and then you’ll head to a restaurant. If it weren’t for the restrictive life forced upon you by the world you live in, maybe the two of you would live somewhere more exciting. Somewhere with more than enough novelties for you to gawk at in awe.

Nayuta snorts at your dramatic lament, “you’re so cheesy.”

“You’re the cheesy one,” you blow a raspberry against the juncture between her jaw and neck and Nayuta squeals immediately.

“Gahahaha!” Nayuta ducks away and you giggle in return. She’s always been a bit ticklish, you’re simply the one lucky enough to do so without repercussions.

“I know ways to make tomorrow come much faster,” Power’s snark cuts through your flirting like a dull knife. The Blood Fiend rarely ever sits still unless it is mealtime or she is watching something thrilling enough. The evening news normally is usually not something that makes Power lay down in the middle of the living room floor on a throw pillow yet here she is. "Being stricken with blunt force guarantees many hours to pass you unknowingly.'

You raise an eyebrow at Power’s unwarranted attitude, “what’s got you in such a shitty mood?”

“They mentioned the Chainsaw Devil on the news earlier,” Nayuta recounts as if telling you the weather report. She looks over her shoulder at where Power lays coolly. “It’s the anniversary of when the Bomb and Chainsaw Devils showed up in Tokyo.” Right, I forgot. They only showed up once however many years ago and still the news would cover it like it could happen again at any moment. You secretly believe Hayakawa Power hopes for the same. You never met Hayakawa Denji, you only heard the stories. He sounded like an even bigger handful than Power.

Power is all that remains from everyone who once claimed the Hayakawa name as their own.

“Don’t mention that name in front of me!” Power snarls without looking in your direction. She doesn’t move to change the channel regardless.

“Pitiful,” Nayuta comments but her grip around you tightens in spite of it as she rests her ear against your chest.

Pitiful.

You open one too many bags of popcorn while Nayuta puts on one of the Inazuma Eleven DVDs Power got on her birthday last year. The five dogs excitedly run around the house to the sound of Power obnoxiously singing "Stand up! Stand up! We love football!" Tora is content to rest on your lap and Meowy the Second takes off with her second popcorn kernel.

To wait this long for someone who ran away and never looked back is pitiful.

A Power who isn’t living up to her proudly chosen name is even more so.

You breathe in the scent of Nayuta’s shampoo as she rests her head on your shoulder. It really is too damn pitiful.

ー

“You ever wonder why there are devils but no angels?”

One of Nayuta’s classmates’ words piqued your interest from the other side of the room. Nayuta’s eyes followed yours in vague interest at the students piled in the corner. The only one you personally recognized was Yamada Moe, your class’ president. True to your word, you were on a date for lunch.

As much of a date it could be at school, anyway.

Everyday the lunch hour reared its delicious head, you’d make your way to Nayuta’s class to eat with her. “I mean, think about it. If devils are physical manifestations of the things we fear, why are there no physical manifestations of the things we love? Like, there are plenty of people who love snakes. So why’s there no Snake Angel?”

“A Chicken Angel would be pretty damn powerful then,” a different girl, likely the class clown, chirped. “But would angels be biblically accurate?” Her eyebrows move mischievously at her suggestions.

“Don’t say that,” Moe covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. Her deep dark brown hair, the color of charred wood, is pulled back into a ponytail and her green eyes sparkled at the thought. “I’d love to see a Hamster Angel then.”

“Or even a Mermaid Angel! That would be so pretty!”

“Mermaids aren’t real, Rika.”

“Neither are zombies but there’s still a Zombie Devil,” ‘Rika’ sputtered in her defense, cheeks pink. “Everyone’s afraid of zombies and everyone loves mermaids, so both would exist by that logic!”

You considered their words with a silent hum. Himeno said she met an Angel Devil once, I think. I wonder how strong he is.

“ー and Makima had promised me to protect him if anything ever came out about him but, well,” Himeno trailed off before vaguely gesturing towards you. You remembered the discomfort of it even as the woman brushed it off with a warm palm placed on your head. “It’s fine though. Kishibe’s given me no updates concerning him and in our business, that’s a good thing. That twerp is doing just fine.”

If an Angel Devil is the manifestation of humanity’s fear of angels, you wondered what a Devil Angel would be like.

“Rika, Tomoko,” Nayuta placed her chopsticks atop her empty lunch box before resting her cheek on her hand. “Give me your desserts,” she yawned. Beneath the table, her legs twined with yours.

“Sure thing, Nayuta,” Rika beamed, holding up a pudding cup enthusiastically.

Tomoko nodded, looking relieved, “my mom packed me too many things anyway.”

Moe glowered in your direction.

It was almost reminiscent of the times you were both street urchins and Nayuta used her powers to ensure you’d be able to eat that day. The only difference is, as Tomoko and Rika walk the moderate distance to your half of the room, that you no longer are that desperate to eat. Nayuta smiled when she saw, among their treats, was an anpan roll with roasted black sesame seeds. Sweets were the secret to this young girl’s heart, all hints of disinterest washed away. Cute. “It’s one of your favorites, [First],” enthusiastically she opened the packaging before raising it to your lips. “Does it taste good?”

You relished the mixture of bread, sesame and adzuki beans on your tongue, “yeah, this is pretty nice.” You looked over at the unsuspecting girls who are too happy to help. Too happy and unaware of the reality of the situation. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Rika brushed off your gratitude with a dispassionate wave of her hand. “What kind of angels would you guys be excited to see? Mermaid Angels would be pretty cool, right?”

You shrugged, not wanting to reveal your inherent bias, “I can’t really imagine what an angel would be like. We’ve never seen one.”

“I just think if we had angels, they would be the ones fighting devils,” Tomoko sighed wistfully, light years away from where you were gathered in class 3-C. “Love is the strongest thing in the world, right?”

“The power of love is cheesy,” Nayuta scoffed.

The three of you ー Tomoko, Rika and yourself ー shared a look of varying degrees of disbelief.

“Since you find it so cheesy, maybe you can finally stop blocking the halls when you makeout and cuddle in the hallway,” Moe rolled her eyes from where she still sat, nose scrunched in equal measures of disgust. Her eyes held your own with a look of annoyance and you couldn’t hold back a snort.

“We are pretty annoying, huh,” you snickered, winking at how Nayuta was still holding the pastry near your lips. Laughter of agreement followed your admission from those sprinkled across the room save for two individuals. If Nayuta had been someone else, perhaps she would have withered under the scathing eyes of class 3-A’s president. Because she wasn't someone else, though, she met the glare with her own. “Even the Love Devil would hate us,” you bit into the roll once again, stealing Nayuta’s attention.

“The Love Devil is probably ugly anyway,” Nayuta replied with a petulant smirk.

Lunch continued without further hiccups, much to your relief. The desserts were eaten and the desks were back in place and it was time for you to head back to class. Nayuta still wasn’t entirely pleased at your class assignments, but she got better about it the following months. The ‘dates’ and walks had kept her placated.

“Thanks for that, [First],” Himeno sighed gratefully when Nayuta was in the bath after your celebratory dinner. “When are kids supposed to stop having temper tantrums? We really don’t need her having one at school. You have to be her anchor.”

You’d have done that even if Himeno didn’t want it. “I’ll pick you up after class,” you told Nayuta unnecessarily but you knew she liked the reassurance. You’d always come back for her even if there was distance standing in the way of that.

“You can make out with Nagano later,” Moe scoffed as she walked past you to room 3-A.

Nayuta glared over your shoulder at the brunette, “she’s ugly.”

“I do gotta get to class though,” you sighed heavily, throwing an arm over Nayuta's shoulder. She returned the gesture with both arms thrown around you. “My adoring fans in 3-A await me.”

“You don’t need your adoring fans when you have me,” Nayuta hugged you tighter and you don’t find yourself disagreeing.

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “that’s pretty true. Those guys mean nothing. You’re my number one.” Gold eyes looked at you like you were a dream before you had to turn around.

“Why do you even like her?” Moe scoffed as you caught up lazily. “She’s awful.”

“She’s cute,” your lips curled at the waves of irritation directed at you further.

Moe’s expression contorted into one of disgust at your answer, storming ahead of you. “People like you disgust me. You’re bullies.” We still sit next to each other so you’re not really doing anything, you know. Knowing it would be pointless telling the girl that, you looked over your shoulder to wave at Nayuta one last time before ducking into class.

“At least pretend to pay attention,” a quiet whisper from your right caught your attention. You shrugged, unbothered. You’ve withstood more terrifying things. Whatever you failed to do, that only seemed to upset the class president even further. “Follow along with the text before the teacher calls on you.”

“I forgot my textbook,” you whispered back, directing your eyes forward.

“You didn’t think to ask someone to look at theirs?” Moe asked incredulously.

You thumbed in the direction of the empty desk to your left. Kinomiya wasn’t there to mooch off of that day. “And it isn’t like you like me, or anything. I’ll just get the notes from someone else.”

“Unlike you, I’m a good person,” Moe muttered, raising her desk just enough that it wouldn’t make a sound as she pressed it against yours. “I’d have shared if you asked.”

“There are no good or bad people, just good or bad actions,” you countered her belief with one of your own. There aren’t even any devils that are purely bad. They only become bad to you because they killed someone you care about. Or because they destroyed something you considered precious. But if there was a devil that killed other devils and rescued people, you’d say they were good.

This philosophy could be applied even to angels.

Angels would only be considered good if they did help humanity fight against devils. If there were angels in an unseen place known as Heaven, they definitely didn’t feel called to fight against the apparent wicked. They didn’t feel called to defend the apparent helpless humans of Earth. And by that definition, that would make them bad creatures. Angels would be bad to you. “And if you have to say you’re a good person, you’re probably not as good as you think you are.” Moe gasped, brow furrowed in her offense as you leaned closer to read the page. “Thanks.”

She couldn’t have made it more apparent how much she hated you with how quickly she separated her desk from yours at the end of the day. You shrugged, not particularly bothered by the reaction.

Some people never meshed with each other and that was that.

Moe hated you and you were indifferent to her existence.

You initially believed Nayuta’s thoughts were the same as yours until she started wiping your arm as if it were filthy after school.

“You stink,” Nayuta’s nose scrunched in obvious displeasure, rubbing your arm as if she could scrub the smell of Yamada Moe away. Even now you were in awe of how strong her sense of smell was; Moe hadn’t even been wearing perfume. “Why do you smell like her?” If she meant to be intimidating in her glare, she failed before she could even try. Her furrowed brow was more cute than nerve racking.

“I forgot my textbook so we had to share,” you recalled the glares and looks of dismay. “She was not happy about it. I think Bags was lying on it so I didn’t see it when we were leaving.” You’d simply remember to check your book bag more thoroughly tomorrow morning. When you were a sizable distance from campus, you recalled the earlier discussion from lunch. “What did you think about all that angel talk at lunch today?”

“That humans are dumb,” as if realizing how that sounded, Nayuta pressed against you as you walked down the path apologetically. “99% of them.”

“You can say it, a lot of humans are dumb,” hands still woven together, you side step away just long enough to playfully tug Nayuta against. Power’s characteristic ‘gahahaha’s slip from Nayuta’s lips again, you aren’t sure when she started unconsciously mimicking her. It’s cute though. “Angels are just angels, even if they did exist. And it wouldn’t be like there’s a guarantee they’d want to just help humans either.”

“That’s because humans are arrogant,” Nayuta didn’t hold back her criticism with her concerns of offending you assuaged. “And they want to control the nature of everything. Fish swim, plants photosynthesize. Hurting is fine for devils.”

You chuckled at her choice of words, “I’d be the Pride Devil.” You took ownership of the inherent arrogance you possessed as a human of this good year.

“You’d be the [First] Devil,” Nayuta argued head tossed back joyously at the thought, giggling all the while.

“I don’t think enough people hate me for that to happen,” you chortled as you swung your hands back and forth. “Class Prez might, though. Maybe I should watch out. What if a [First] Devil does show up, am I gonna be replaced?”

Nayuta snorted affectionately, gold eyes bright like the sun, “you’re so dumb.”

A peaceful silence fell over you both and you released a satisfied breath. You wanted moments like this to last forever. “One day,” you looked at the orange-red sky above. “I’m gonna get old. At least, if I don’t die before then. But whatever ends up happening, we’re gonna be different,” you promised before Nayuta could protest what you’d begun to announce. “We’re not like them.”

ー and Makima’s time was too short; you’d heard that enough times since living with the Naganos.

That wasn’t going to be you and Nayuta.

“We’re not gonna be like them,” you promised, squeezing her hand tightly. “We’re gonna live forever.”

ー　

When was it when the image of Makima began to haunt you like a ghost?

You remember now, it had been in October of your first and last year of middle school when Nayuta finally started braiding her hair. You’d been fine that morning up until she came to the kitchen and you dropped the jar of pickled radishes, quietly sobbing until you caught a fever.

“Do you hate my hair being like this?” Nayuta asked in the quiet of the room you shared. It’s large and spacious, fit for three people. You never understood why the third bed in the room was kept when Nayuta never slept in any bed that wasn’t your own. The dogs and cats got a kick out of it, at the very least. So did Power who was shuffling about in the kitchen, banging pots and pans.

“I think it’s pretty. You’re pretty no matter how you do your hair.”

“I found a picture of the old me in Himeno’s room. The old us. She had her hair like this in all of Himeno’s memories too.”

“You used your powers on Himeno?”

“When she took a nap the other day. I wanted,” Nayuta trailed off, arms wrapped around her knees and eyes downcast. You were too hot to cuddle but she sat on the floor by your side anyway. “I wanted to know what the old me was like. Himeno didn’t like her very much. She liked the old you better. She liked that Aki person more though.”

Power’s Aki, you recalled from the photos in a photo album Ichika made for Power’s birthday. “Himeno likes you though. I told you before, we’re not ー and Makima. It doesn’t matter if she didn’t like her.” Maybe Himeno had a thing against redheads.

“She thinks it sometimes. I can tell.”

I know.

“The old man said I was selfish when he met us.”

“I like that you’re selfish. We both get to be selfish at this point. Do you know how long we were in that dump?” You shared a laugh at the memory of the dump in question. The mattress was old as sin, rock hard and the blankets you owned couldn’t keep crickets out let alone the cold. “I miss robbing that one guy with the dolphin apron. He made the best dumplings. Wish we could have found the secret formula so we could still make them.”

“Humans can be dumb but the food is really good,” Nayuta’s lips turned upright.

You shift a bit so you can lay on your side, facing her more clearly, “do you remember what it was like in Hell?”

Nayuta shook her head, braid dancing to the motion. “Only little bits and pieces, but it’s blurry,” she disclosed, words soft. “I only remember wanting to leave soon.”

“When I was a kid, I always thought I was missing something,” you hold out your hand and Nayuta’s fingers slip into your own. You never knew another hand could be this warm, not even when your parents were alive. You don’t think you’d truly been warm until you met the girl who changed everything. You wanted to hold onto this life; hold it for as long as you could. You disavowed that there’d be a day you’d stop being you and Nayuta stopped being Nayuta and the new versions of you would run into the dawn hand in hand. You and Nayuta would live forever. “I’m really happy that I found you.”

Any sentimentality in the room was immediately blown away by the sound of Power kicking open the door.

“We have a doorknob, Power,” you groaned. Then you caught a whiff of the smell of broth, chicken and vegetables and raised yourself into a sitting position. Taking note of your realization, the strawberry-haired fiend puffed out her chest proudly as she presented the tray to you. The bowl was filled to the brim with soup, sloshing over the lip as she stepped forward and the crackers were worse for wear because of it. “You cooked?”

“Homemade! Straight from the can!” Power placed the tray on your lap, hands resting on her hips. “You humans are fragile creatures, so I decided to grant you my assistance.”

You had to purse your lips together to prevent yourself from laughing. “You know what, thanks, Power,” you let the fiend have her moment. Her homemade straight-from-the-can soup smelled pretty damn good.

ー

“Ichika, are you dating anyone?”

“What brought that on so suddenly?”

You shrug from where you sit at the kitchen table. “Because you never go anywhere unless it’s the farmer’s market,” you point out deftly. Work and home, that’s all either Nagano sister seems to have time for, save for the occasional pub night. No one in this house has much of a social life when you ponder it for more than two seconds. “We were kids before but it’s not like you don’t have a life now.”

“You’re all still kids to me,” Ichika’s laugh is light and playful, like she’s daring you to protest otherwise.

“Power might be,” you lean back in your chair with a quiet snort. “She’s always been a handful.”

It’s rare for the house to be this quiet between the dogs and Power. The former are on a walk with Nayuta and the latter tagged along with Himeno to the market. Power has a child-like nature you doubt will ever fade. If something happens to Ichika and Himeno, what’s going to happen to Power?

“I recall all three of you being handfuls,” Ichika continues washing away at a plate with a laugh. “I’m not sure how you remember it but you and Nayuta had your moments too.” You remember your last first day of middle school and how Nayuta turned Power into a dog. You can recall many instances of Power falling prey to Nayuta’s power, truthfully. Himeno hated it. “Well, you had the least amount of tantrums, so I suppose I can give you that.”

You snort, lips curling in amusement, “name one tantrum I had.”

“I distinctly recall the time you were upset Himeno ate your leftovers.”

“That was different,” you cross your arms resolutely. “I counted everything I had left and put the numbers on the box!” If Power has a child-like nature, Himeno is a permanent child at heart. “I told her if she wanted something, to let me know. But she didn’t! She just wanted to mooch off my plate!” How many times has she put me through this? She hasn’t changed since I quit working at the Bureau.

“Himeno, I’m getting something to eat. What do you want?”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

“Himeno,” you eyed the woman with your lips pressed together and eyes narrowed. “I’m getting something to eat. What. Do you want?”

“Nothing, ー, geez! I’m not even hungry!”

“Liar, because I know damn well the moment I get back you’re going to want whatever I’m having! You know what, at this point, get your ass up. We’re leaving.”

“Wow,” Himeno held a hand against her chest, mockingly crushed. “This is how little you trust your best friend? I thought we had something special.”

“I trust you as much as I trust Nanaka not to poison me the first chance she gets,” you’d only been working for Japan’s Public Safety Devil Hunters for a month and the brunette still hated you. Apparently the transgressions of being assigned the partner of her beloved Makima was too heavy a crime. “I think I saw a new Italian place open up by the convenience store ran by that Brazilian couple I told you about.”

“Are you alright, dear?” You rub your forehead as if the motion will chase away ー’s memories with a vengeance.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I never worked at the Bureau, you remind yourself. And I don’t want to. I’m no hero. That was ー’s desire. You only desire that which is most simple. “But you never answered my question. We’re not kids anymore.”

Ichika sets aside her wet rubber gloves on the drying rack, wiping the remnants of moisture onto her apron. “You don’t have to worry about me, [First]. I’ve never been the social butterfly, my sister’s always been the brave one.” You wonder what memories Ichika recalls as she takes a seat in her usual spot across the table. “That’s why she became a devil hunter. But even when we were in school, she got along with everybody.”

“You said you were in the tea ceremony club, right?”

She perks up in pleasant surprise, “that’s right! I’m surprised you remember!” The summer before you started high school, Ichika pulled out their old yearbooks from when they were students. “It feels like just yesterday both of you were in high school.”

“It basically was just yesterday.” It hadn’t been long at all since graduation and your classmates flocked out of Shonai to various major cities across the country. Everyone but the two of you. “High school was… better than middle school.”

“That it was,” you know from the slight frown on Ichika’s face she is remembering exactly how much of a mess your time at Higashi Middle School had been. So much so you transferred to Kitahoro Middle halfway through attendance. “It was hard for the two of you.”

ー

“[Last]?” A voice that twinkles like a bell calls for you. “[Full name] is that you?”

It’s a little past lunch that Saturday afternoon and the day is sleepy for both humans and devils. You hadn’t seen so much as even a trace of devil activity, deciding to have an early lunch after tossing your weapon of choice underneath a dumpster in a back alley.

You turn around at the sound of your name, fearful it is Himeno who has found you.

Thankfully, this person is Himeno’s opposite in every way.

Their eyes are green instead of blue and their hair is a dark brown instead of navy.

I know this person.

“Oh, Class Prez,” you blink in realization. Yamada Moe, in the flesh. “It’s been a while.”

ー

On a school day like any other it announced that Kiritani Tomoko had been killed by a devil. Rare as that was in a small town like Shonai, everyone had been shaken up.

“How ironic,” you heard the whispers from the adults around you. “It was the Rooster Devil. How ironic when her family raises chickens. Even here in Shonai, devils are everywhere.”

Adults who in the same breath greet Power and Nayuta with warmth whenever they are seen walking down the street.

Hypocrites.

Tomoko’s death is unfortunate but you won’t pretend it was something that impacted you personally. To the president of 3-A, Yamada Moe, it was an unforgivable blow. You didn’t see her during lunch in 3-C, nor did she come back from lunch despite leaving her bookbag and pen on her desk.

“Rika’s not here, either,” Nayuta told you when you pointed out the empty desk.

You aren’t saddened by the death of Kiritani Tomoko but you know of a death you couldn’t recover from.

So you don’t fight it when your teacher tells you to find where Moe has slipped away to and you don’t drag her back from the ponytail when you find her crying on the rooftop either. “Hey,” you closed the door behind you.

“Just go away,” Moe shuddered, holding herself tighter. “Why are you even here?”

“Hori-sensei wanted me to come find you.”

Moe raises her head with hot anger, eyes red and weary, “like you suddenly care about being a good student.”

“I told you before, didn’t I?” You plopped on the ground in spite of Moe’s protests, hands resting on your lap. The autumn wind is comforting against your skin and the rolling clouds are fluffy. An unsuspecting day to learn someone from school died. “I don’t believe in good or bad people. People just do good or bad things. But I get it,” you shrugged lackadaisically. “Nayuta does a lot of bad things. It isn’t like I’m a saint either, we’ve done plenty of bad. If that makes us bad people to you, that’s fine. But I get what it’s like to lose people too.

“My parents were good ones. But some asshole hit them with their car when I was seven and I was stuck on my own until I was thirteen,” what would have happened to you next if you had left things to the authorities around you? You’re unsure. At seven years old, running away seemed like the best option at the time. No princes would be coming to save you so you became your own prince. “Devils. Cops. Figuring out what to eat. The other people out on the streets could be the worst too. I got into a lot of fights back then.” All to lie in a building the government had yet to demolish. “I thought the world ended. Or at least my place in it had. If I never met Nayuta, I’m not sure how much longer I could have kept going like that.”

Spotting movement to your left, you looked to Moe and your eyes caught one another.

Red as her eyes were, they were wide at your confession with her mouth slightly ajar. “It’s corny but when she’s here, I feel like I can do anything.” Survive on the streets for months or even fight devil hunters that were planning to kill you before you could blink. “So she gets to do awful things. Nayuta can do the most awful things in the world. She’s perfect.” She’d been perfect the moment you met her. “So I can’t say much about being sad about Tomoko, because I didn’t know her like that. But I know how it feels to lose someone and I know what it’s like to be terrified it’ll happen again. So for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Sorry,” Moe murmured. "Thank you."

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, you’re the one upset.”

...

“Aren’t you supposed to make me go back to class?”

“I’ll just tell Teach I got lost or something,” you yawned. “It’s none of his business.”

“You’re actually a good person, aren’t you?” Moe sniffled, resting her forehead against her knees. “You just pretend to be mean.”

“Good people don’t exist,” you sang, watching the clouds roll by. “Now mean, that I can be.”

“Now you’re being stubborn,” Moe muttered under her breath, sniffing again. “You’re good. It’s just being with Nagano Nayuta makes you act like a jerk.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to like her,” you close your eyes with a light smile. “The less people realizing all her positive sides, the more Nayuta there is for me.”

“I don’t know how you stomach being around her,” you shrugged. “She’s like poison. The two of you together doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t feel right.

You open one eye, “what do you mean?”

“It’s just a feeling I get,” Moe explained vaguely, twisting her hands together anxiously.

“Nayuta, don’t use your powers at school for a while.”

“Why not?”

“I found the C-” “Yamada thinks there’s something off about you and everyone else is still on edge about that last devil attack. So it’ll be better to lay low until everything calms down.”

“Who’s that?”

“My class’ president. You know her, you think she’s ugly.”

“... Do you like her?”

“She’s alright, I guess. She’s just a classmate.”

“What about me?”

“You’re everything.”

Nayuta leapt onto your back in her satisfaction, legs wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’ll leave the humans at school alone then.”

“Don’t use them no matter what, alright? We can just get extra snacks on the way home from school or something.”

“I won’t.”

ー

“You cut your hair, it looks good!”

“Thanks,” Moe plays with a lock of curly hair, boyishly short. It suits her rather nicely. You look freer. “It’s surprising seeing you here. What are you…?” She glances quickly at the hazmat-style onesie you’ve dressed yourself in, plastic visor raised above your head.

“Got a janitorial job and I’m taking no chances,” you lean against the cold bench lazily. “I never mocked a janitor before but I damn sure am never going to now. Those guys are the unsung heroes of our society.”

“Janitori-” Moe snorts in her shock, looking like you’ve grown two heads. “I always figured you’d become a philosophy teacher considering how you were back in middle school”

“Nayuta’s signed up for classes but I’m taking a couple years off to save,” what you plan on majoring in when the time comes is unknown even to you. Perhaps Moe is onto something with philosophy. “We can’t mooch off our benefactors forever.” What’s going to happen to Power if anything happens to Himeno and Ichika, you find yourself pondering once again. A third passport shouldn’t be that hard to forge. Kishibe got me and Nayuta into the country without any problem, didn’t he?

“Oh, where is she going?”

“She’s at Tohoku too,” you nod at the Tohoku University tote bag resting on Moe's hip. “She’s doing everything virtually. Business Management major.”

There’s little surprise on Moe’s part when she hears that, “Business Management sounds like something that suits her.”

“She is pretty bossy, I can give you that,” you huff with an airy sigh. Management is something Nayuta will definitely thrive in. “She’s a damn good student though. What about you? What have you been up to? Majoring in law?”

“Philosophy, actually!” She laughs at how your eyebrows raise. “Surprising?”

“A little,” you nod and Moe rolls her eyes in playful exasperation. “But with all the arguments we had, philosophy or law honestly made the most sense. So I wasn’t that far off.”

“Those weren’t arguments, those were debates,” Moe corrects you needlessly, arms behind her back. It’s almost like all the tension left her when she cut her hair.

“You’ve mellowed out, Prez,” you whistle, impressed.

A younger Moe would have asked what you meant with a furrowed brow. The Moe of the present day accepts your words with a hearty laugh. “I was a bit high strung back then,” she lets out a nostalgic sigh. “Maybe more than a bit,” she admits sheepishly. “But middle school really feels so long ago. I guess I changed without noticing.”

“Sorry about middle school,” your lips curl into a grimace. “The stuff with Nayuta I mean.”

Moe’s eyebrows knit together with an empathetic curl of her lips, “it’s okay, I get it now. You were under a lot of stress back then.”

“How’s Rika doing?” You vaguely remember that girl who Nayuta would pawn snacks off of. “She going to Tohoku too?”

“Oh,” Moe shuffles nervously.

“What, did she drop out or something?”

“No, um, she never went to university,” Moe fiddles with a bracelet on her left wrist.

You raise an eyebrow at the odd behavior, “is she… dead?”

“No!” Moe answers quickly and you cock your head to the side, shrugging your shoulders. Okay then what is she then? “It’s just that she… became a devil hunter after we graduated.”

“Okay,” Good luck then, Rika. If you’re in Tokyo maybe Kishibe’ll be the one in charge of your training. As much as you hate the man, everything he’s taught you has kept you alive so far. You see green staring at you. “What?”

“I’m just surprised that you took that so well,” Moe breathes in disbelief. “Considering everything with Nayuta, I was afraid to bring devil hunters up in front of you.”

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean ‘considering everything with Nayuta’?”

“Did-” Moe blinks once before she covers her mouth in horror. “Did you not know? I’m- I’m so sorry-”

“I found the C-”

“How did you know Nayuta wasn’t human? When did you figure it out?”

“When… that time back in middle school. She didn’t look human to me and when you went to her I just thought… in that moment Nayuta being a devil is why you were always so protective of her,” Moe’s head looks around the alley you’ve brought her too cautiously. It’s deep, deep within the darkest crevices of Sendai. “Where are we? Why are we here?”

You look at Moe and then the dumpster beside you, “I have to tell you the truth about something.” Your thumb brushes against your middle and index fingers for a moment. “I’m not really a janitor. I’ve been killing devils for the past seven months now. It’s underground work though.” You tell Moe this news as one might tell their friend they decided to plant tulips in their garden, reaching for where you slid your axe underneath the grimy trash heap.

“Devils?”

“Yeah.”

Moe looks at your rusty blade, caked in the blood from those you’ve killed thus far. “... But Nayuta,” she is unable to bring herself to say the rest.

You laugh, leaning against the wall for half a second before deciding you can’t stand the feel of it against your back. Nor do you wish to feel the eyes of Moe upon you. “Yeah, it’s sick isn’t it? She’s a devil but I’ve been out here for the past seven months killing ‘em. But Nayuta,” black hair and red rings fill your memories. “she means everything to me; I was alone for years until I met her. I have never cared that she was a devil. She was perfect, she’s still perfect. If anything ever happened to her, it would feel like the entire world was ending. I used to be a cashier, you know, but try making enough money to sneak a devil out of the country at your local 7-11,” you laugh humorously. “And I know you’ve never liked Nayuta but for me, Nayuta is everything. So please… please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, [First]!” A foot steps towards you, voice full of emotion. “I didn’t like Nayuta before but I get it now! There are good devils out there and I’m going to prove it. That’s why I’m studying philosophy! If humans and devils can understand each other, we wouldn’t have to kill each other anymore!”

“She means everything to me,” your fingers dig into your palms as you repeat yourself weakly. She’s the best thing you knew you needed in a world that had nearly beaten you down for good. The one you would find repeatedly no matter the time and distance that separated you. “What am I doing? Killing devils for money like this when I know…” your shoulders sag. “But I can’t do anything else for her. I can’t earn money fast enough otherwise and I don’t have time to wait. I’m sure… this makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”

“You are not a bad person,” Moe’s hand is warm on your back even through the layers you wear to keep yourself from being bloodied. “It’s not you that’s wrong, it’s the world itself. If enough people just realized that, things would be better.” A world where humanity and devils lived together in harmony? It seems like an impossible dream; perhaps it is one not within reach. Not within the lifetime you currently possess. And that’s okay, I’ll make my own happiness even with that fact. “You’re just trying to do what you can for the one you love in a shitty situation. Nayuta would understand that. So… so don’t beat yourself up about this. I never told anyone about Nayuta and I’m never going to.”

There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission.

You breathe.

“By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?”

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

You breathe.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me! Don’t leave me!”

You slide down your visor.

“We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise.”

And you breathe.

“Hey, Nayuta, pick a country. One that doesn’t have a devil hunting association in it.”

“Seychelles,” Nayuta didn’t miss a beat, grinning the devilish grin you loved all the while. “We still need to have our honeymoon.”

The back of your fist strikes Moe’s throat before she has time to react.

“Don’t worry at all, Prez,” you kick the woman to the ground, grip on your axe tightening as you sit atop her. “I know you won’t tell anyone.” You wonder what those forest green eyes see when they look up at you, eyes wide as she gasps for air. You hold her jaw in place, gloved fingers digging into her skin.

“Stop-” her words come quiet, hoarse. “I won’t tell! I really won’t tell!”

She won’t say anything. No. She might. She hasn’t snitched in all these years. She could change her mind. Cut off her tongue. Her fingers too. And the toes. All of it needs to go.

“I could cut off your tongue,” you feel her breath hitch from she freezes under your touch. You feel the beat of a pulse, pounding like a drum. “but you could still use your fingers. I could cut your fingers and you could use your toes. I could cut off everything and you’d still probably find a way to get out a message with the stumps too.” Tears swell in Moe’s eyes and you barely feel her fists beating into your shoulder. I’m glad I hit her in the throat, you finally take note of her barely audible, ragged whispers. “You can say you won’t talk until you’re blue in the face but there is nothing that can stop you from ever changing your mind. I’m sorry. I really did like you.”

See? I became a bad person to you just now, didn’t I?

The weight of your axe is heavy as it follows the push of gravity guiding your hand into soft flesh below. There’s a quick breath, a gurgle, that slips from Moe’s lips and you raise your axe again.

Red droplets strike your visor and you raise your axe again.

Muscle and sinew decorate the dirty earth around you and you raise your axe again.

Again and again even when what you strike is hard rock instead of flesh until you raise your axe a final time, and you hear metal clink that isn’t your own.

Your neck cracks from the force you whip your neck and the devil flinches when your eyes meet, not daring to press its raised hand to the ground. When you look closely, you see a twisted green soda can wobbling underneath it. Your shoulders steadily heave from your fatigue, neither of you moving a centimeter. You can’t hold back a tired laugh from the absurdity, resting a hand on a knee as you push yourself up. “Sorry,” you titter, neither of you blinking as you step to the side. “You’re hungry, aren’t you,” you gesture to the body, still warm. “It’s okay. Eat it.”

The devil’s mouth trembles, eyes flittering between you and the still lumps on the ground. It takes a step back.

You blink, letting your hand hang loosely against your leg. “What are you waiting for? I said eat it.”

As if coming back to life, the devil on all fours takes one step forward - then another - until it rushes past you to begin its feast. You raise your visor when the devil turns its head, jowls soaked in blood, eyes narrow. It eats stiffly, eying you and the axe in your hand. You smile reassuringly, eyes soft.

The Rat Devil should be about ¥600,000 right?

ー

Nayuta squeals when you lift her feet off the ground as you laugh maniacally, arms safely tucked underneath her back and legs.

An evening walk on the beach is just what you need after a trying day at work. The moon is full and the evening Shonai air is sweet unlike the stink of the city, heavy with exhaust and blood. Thanks for not being a bitch this time, Nishida. The Rat Devil cost as much as you estimated it would, if not a bit higher.

The life you lead isn’t perfect but it has its moments.

“We’re going to fall!” Nayuta shrieks but her grin is wide and shining under the moonlight. She’s almost like a siren, you think, as the waves accompany her voice. The sand squishes underneath your toes, kicking up the waves as you spin and spin. One day when you carry her like this, she’ll be in a beautiful dress and veil just like you talked about when you were kids.

“Relax,” you tilt your head back, tasting the ocean spray on your lips. “I’m never gonna drop you!”

ー

“[First],” Himeno calls in a sing-song voice as you walk out the door. “Wait for me, kiddo! I need you to give me a ride!”

Your hand grips the car handle as you tilt your head back with a loud groan, “Himeno, I’m going to work.” The sun hasn’t risen yet nor have the morning birds begun singing their songs. Eight months you have been able to successfully stave off this conversation.

Eight months.

You hope to make it nine.

“Wow,” Himeno jeers, undeterred and you know your stomach will be heavy with dread if you’re unable to shake her off your tail. Eight months you’ve been able to successfully avoid this conversation with Himeno and you don’t plan to break your record. “Someone gets a job and the moment she starts moving up in the world she forgets about all the people she met along the way.”

“Yep,” you click your tongue. “I'm one of those people. So it looks like you’ll have to wait until someone else decides to be your chauffeur. I’ll call Sebastian to retrieve you later.”

“So they’re paying enough at 7-11’s for you to afford Sebastian’s rates?” Himeno whistles, impressed and awed as she rests a large stack of ¥10,000 on top of the car. “Can you recommend me a position? If I’d known that, I’d have left Himeji’s ages ago.”

Blue stares into [color].

Wordlessly, you sit in the car and Himeno follows suit, quiet as you pull out of the driveway and far from the coziness of home. She waits nearly ten minutes to the hour before she opens her lips, a smile in her voice that is frigid. “You have the look of a killer now,” your eyes flit to your reflection in the rearview mirror. “I wonder how many things you had to kill to get eyes like that.”

“What’s the issue with killing,” you mutter, eyes on the empty road. How she found the money is of little consequence. She has it and that’s all that matters. “Why did you make me learn how to kill them if you didn’t want me to do it?”

“Those skills were for protecting yourself,” you scoff at her answer. What’s self-defense to her will never accommodate your ambitions. “Not going out of your way to get yourself killed. As long as you’re living under my roof-”

“Oh don’t worry, we won’t be living there for much longer,” you cut off your benefactor.

“We?”

“We!” The car comes to an abrupt halt as your glares turn on one another. “You and Ichika aren’t going to be here protecting us forever! You think Power actually has the ability to live on her own in a world of humans? You’re not going to live forever!”

“And you think you are?!” Himeno laughs at the ludicrous presumption.

“I’m going to figure things out by then!”

Three adult passports.

(I’ll need the forgeries too.)

Visa.

Housing.

Food.

Permanent Residency.

(Can’t believe I forgot about ticket costs. Where do I go for illegally flying devils out of the country, huh? And the pets. What do I do to bring-)

“[First]-”

“And I don’t need your help to do that! And I don’t need to be under your roof either, I’ll move out! I have enough!”

“ー stop!”

“I’M NOT ー!” Himeno balks as you scream, slamming your hand against the driver’s window. The glass cracks but it does not shatter. “ ー isn’t coming back and the one you’re stuck with now is me! And I know you hate that and you have to be reminded that your best friend died every time you look at me but I am not her! I’m never going to be her!” Those memories would never be yours. Makima was never going to be yours. Makima is Makima, Nayuta is Nayuta. The difference is night and day. “I’m not like her! I hate her! I hate,” your voice cracks and you rest your head on the steering wheel, squeezing the handle tightly. “I hate it. I hate that you only want to see her. You never want to see me.”

“When Kishibe brought you both to me, I wanted to take you in immediately. And I have to be honest, a good portion of it was because of who you used to be. But I know you, [First],” a hand rests on your back, warm, but you’re too tired to brush it away. “You’re brave and kind and you look out for the people you care about even if it means you have to take the brunt force of everything. Nayuta has no idea about this and it’s because you want to keep her safe.”

“I don’t want her to come to the city and be discovered again,” “I’ve found the Control Devil.” The five words you fear hearing the most. “A life where Nayuta can be free. That’s all I want.”

“I see you, [First]. I see you and I see Nayuta and I’m very proud of who you’ve become and the people you’ll grow into for as long as I get to see it. I just haven’t been doing a good job showing that and for that, I’m so sorry,” her voice is cloyingly thick and in spite of yourself, your eyes feel hot. “Even if I could go back and stop ー from dying, I wouldn’t. I would never give up having you in my life, not even for her. You, Power, Nayuta. All three of you are precious to me, younger sisters I’ve always wanted.”

“You already had a younger sister, idiot,” you wipe your nose against your sleeve, disregarding your disgust for the trail of snot it leaves on the fabric. “Does Ichika mean nothing to you?”

“More younger sisters,” Himeno laughs wetly. “The four of you give me a life that’s worth living. I love it when Power plays her anime at the loudest volume possible. I can even look back on Nayuta and Power’s fights with a smile, isn’t that funny? At the time those situations weren’t funny but that’s how sisters are, I guess. And you always thought you could be slick hiding that you could be as much of a brat as the rest of us. Well, except for maybe Ichika. You should have seen her when she was four.”

You laugh despite yourself, “Ichika was probably the most well-behaved four year old on the planet. You probably made your parents want to send you back to the hospital.”

Himeno chortles, “only half the time.”

A pleasant silence falls over the vehicle.

“I think it’s time to call Grandpa Kishibe and finally move from this place. The house is getting too small,” Himeno leans back in her seat and stares at the leather ceiling. “The geezer should foot the bill for everything, he never even sent me child support.”

“Nayuta wants to go to Seychelles,” you follow Himeno's example, resting against your seat. It's dawn now, you note the fingers of the sun peeking behind the clouds and painting the sky hues of rose, indigo and vermillion.

You love the dawn.

“I know a place even better than that,” it’s supposed to be a wink but with the eyepatch, who can tell. “Remember that Angel Devil I told you about? The place he lives is pretty damn snazzy and warm all-year round. A place where even devils can live freely.”

ー

You barely had time to dry your hands on your skirt when Rika burst through the bathroom door, chest heaving. “[First], come quick,” the girl’s eyes were wide with fear. “Moe and Nayuta got into a fight!”

You bolted through the door, shoving Rika to the side.

Class 3-C was a mess by the time you arrived and calling what likely happened was a disservice to what you were welcomed to. Desks were skewed to the side as if a tornado had blown through it, food strewn across the floor. No one noticed your presence, not when Moe sat on the floor holding her jaw, battered and nose dripping with blood and Nayuta’s short form towered over her with silent menace.

“Nayuta, stop,” you stand between the devil and the human foolish enough to invoke her wrath.

“Why?” Gold eyes glowed harshly.

“You’ll kill her.”

“Why do you care if she dies? You said she didn’t mean anything to you. So I don’t understand,” Nayuta appeared to stand perfectly still but you could hear the tremor in her voice. From rage or from wanting to cry, you didn’t know. “Why are you protecting this girl? I’m all you need. Aren’t I?” Taking a half-step forward, Nayuta gripped your arms as if they were her lifeline. “Aren’t I?”

One year ago, not long after you turned thirteen, a blazing star sought refuge in your chest.

The birth of the universe.

Within that birth, you willingly took a devil’s hand and ran across the playground of the divine welcoming all damnation.

You’d do it for as long as she wanted you.

“From now and forever, we are going to stay together. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together and live a happy life together,” you hold Nayuta to your chest, closer than what is possible between devils and man. “More than anyone in the world, you’re the only person I need. And I’ll never want anyone else either,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against her silky hair. “I told you before, didn’t I? We’re not like them. You and me are gonna live forever.”

“You want to be with me?”

“I want to be with you.”

“You’ll stay with only me?”

“I’m always gonna stay with only you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Let’s go home, okay?” When you felt the weak nod of your beloved, you wrapped Nayuta’s legs around your waist. Your initial steps were shaky, pacing backwards for a few seconds before you caught your balance.

“I love you, [First],” Nayuta’s arms trembled around your shoulders and you hear the telltale signs of hiccuping.

“I love you too,” you held her closer if it was possible.

Warm droplets fall against your neck.

ー

Nayuta looks beautiful in her white dress, veil trailing delicately along the white sand.

translation notes.

織姫「orihime」 - weaver princess

“If I became the monster to everyone but us and made sure we got home again, who would care if we’re unjust?”

#look she's writing #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #makima x reader #makima #nayuta #csm fic #makima fic

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brandwhorestarscream · 2 months ago

Text

*kicks down the door* ONE PERSON ASKED FOR IT SO HERE WE GO! Have some TF1 AU-ish fic. Potential spoilers under the cut!

This involves an oc originally crafted for Hindsight, the Acolyte of Alpha Trion, named Charade

So, imagine when Sentinel murders the Primes and tries to take the Matrix, he goes back to the cybertronians and tells them everyone's gone but they've left him with a master plan. He takes control and starts moving the survivors below the surface, and the sleaze bag decides to gloat over the dead/coma-trapped.

He marches on Alpha Trion's temple, and intends to take the greatest prize of all, the only one of the Primes to have such a thing: he wants to take Alpha Trion's mate. Of course, no one knows that Charade is actually romantically involved with the god he serves: officially, he's the Acolyte and nothing else. But Sentinel, as their internal mediator, was privvy to that information. And Charade is undeniably beautiful, touched with a holy glow and vibrant colors. He'll make an excellent trophy for the new Head of Cybertron

Charade is naturally extremely opposed to the idea, tells Sentinel to kick rocks and already prepping with his priests to oppose whatever the hell this scumbag is planning

Then, you know. Sentinel reveals his connection to the quintessons, and manages to strongarm poor Charade into an unsteady surrender by threatening to raze the temple, fully knowing that a very young newspark Mythos is somewhere in the building. Charade wouldn't hesitate to die for Alpha Trion, but he's not willing to risk the sparkling's safety, nor is he willing to allow Alpha Trion's holiest place to be desecrated. Defeated, he's forced to Sentinel's side, and his support and "public declaration of bonding" is more than enough to get the meager survivors of the war to follow him without question. They rebuild a miniature civilization beneath the surface, naming it Iacon too, as it mirrors the previous one on the other side of the planet's crust.

For untold vorns, Charade is Sentinel's prisoner. The other Acolytes were assumably hunted down and Charade knows not their fate, nor does he ever find out what happened to Alpha Trion. He had held out hope for awhile, that the Primes might rise again, but... nothing happens. With baby Mythos cradled in his arms, he's forced to watch as Cybertron's people slooowly comes back from the brink of near-extinction, but this new Dynasty built under a false Prime is a miserable one. Every cold construct that Sentinel orders make, he plucks their t-cogs from their newbotn chests, before they even come online. He decides who can transform, who does what, and forces the lowest tiers of his new system to toil ceasessly in the mines. Charade is sickened by the mutilations to newsparks and the near-daily casualty reports as countless mecha are lost in the unstable mining systems. But it's not nearly as sickening as his so-called "bonded" presents himself to the people.

Now, Sentinel isn't stupid. He knows an unhappy population will upend their overlords eventually. Look how he got here, after all. He packages himself as a kind and charismatic leader, spouting empty words of love and appreciation with such tender optical and a soft smile that everyone believes him. Every single one of them really, truly, genuinely believe that their Sentinel Prime is gracious and grand, and cares so deeply for them he's tirelessly exploring the surface searching for the lost Matrix and Primes. And he's even a loving family mech--look at his beautiful mate and child, who's the spitting image of his carrier but still so doted in and adored. His mate, Charade, prefers to keep himself out of the spotlight, shielding their newspark from press and nosy paparazzi in favor of lots of one-on-one time at home with mama. Better for his little spark'a development, of course! They're the perfect little family for the perfect leader, and everyone is happy

Then, there's the whole mess with the Iacon 5000 race. It's one of the few times Charade makes public appearances, or rather, one of the few times Sentinel lets him make an appearance. He has control of Charade, but just barely: he knows the pretty viper next to him is always thinking about how to topple everything he's built, how to run, how to escape. But he can't, so long as Sentinel has the potential to catch Mythos in the crossfire--while fiercely and viciously devoted to Alpha Trion, he was also an exceptionally protective, loving mother. He wouldn't dare do anything if he thought there was the slightest chance Mythos would be harmed. The Iacon 5000 is an annual event that everyone loves, and is massively crowded: there's no way any sort of mischief wouldn't cause massive harm. If not to them, then the innocent citizens. Charade's servos are tied.

It's expected that the much beloved Prime would watch the race with his family. Celebrating something that may as well be a public holiday without his family would be very strange indeed. They watch it together every year from their special VIPrime seats. Mythos, at least, seems to enjoy it, bouncing in his carrier's lap and squealing as the racers zoom on by.

Then... Orion Pax drags D-16 into the race. They do smthn this underground Cybertron has never seen before. By now, all memories of the surface have died with the previous generations. To see miners that can't transform doing something *so crazy* is the most fun anyone's had in ages. Charade actually finds himself giggling at their antics while Mythos has a blast in his lap; it's like watching the hyper younglings horsing around on the playgrounds they had on the surface.

After the race, Sentinel of course goes to see them, wanting to ride this wave as much as he can and use them to motivate the other miners to increase quota. As he speaks with the two troublemakers, he notices D-16's awed optics keep flitting between himself and something behind him--a little to the left. He glances down and finds Charade at his side, lurking in his shadow as he often does when they're in public, baby Mythos still cradled on his hip. The sparkling is asleep, cheek down on his carrier's shoulder and drooling all over him, out like a light.

"Ah..." the Prime's eyes glint. "You've never seen a sparkling before?"

"N- No sir...!" D-16's tone is mystified, as if he can't quite believe that this is *happening*, and Charade's spark aches for him.

The Acolyte can't resist. "Well, you're in luck then, little one," the Acolyte says, stepping around his bonded and forward. "My Mythos very much enjoyed the show you two put on."

"He did...?" This time it's Orion Pax who sounds mystified, leaning forward to look at the tiny sparkling. "Oh, w-wow-! He's... s-so small..."

"Oh, but he'll grow!" Sentinel Prime jumps back in, one arm snaking around Charade's waist to pull him close. "All sparklings grow with time, and it's thanks to bots like you who make the world brighter for sparklings like him. We're both really grateful for how happy you made our son today."

Charade nods with an invincible, dazzling smile, mask never slipping. "It's true! He really loved it, didn't you baby?" He turns his face to press a series of gentle kisses to the sparkling's forehelm, and then, bitty optic shutters twitch.

Mythos suddenly makes a squeaking, staticy noise and yawns widely, so wide his little chin quivers, before sleepy blue optics suddenly squint open.

"Bah!" The baby squeals and immediately reaches out to grab Orion's nose, who reels in surprise, leaning so far back he falls off the bench with a great clamor.

The sparkling spooks easily, optics wide and shrinking back against his carrier with a distressed cry. "Oh no-!" D-16 looks distinctly panicked as the sparkling's lip wobbles threateningly and his optics start filling with oily tears. "No no no, d-don't cry, it's ok! He- He didn't mean to scare you, um, uh... h-here! Here look, see? Shiny!" He angles his left shoulder toward the sparkling, and his fresh new Megatronus decal glints and sparkles appealing. Immediately, the sparkling forgetsbhis tears and coos with wonder, clumsily clapping his chubby little hands.

Charade regards it was interest and quiet approval. "Oh, a fan of Lord Megatronus Prime, are we?"

"Ah-" D-16 looks sheepish, reaching to touch the back of his helm. "Y- Yes, ahem, yes sir! He's my hero- oh! N-Not that you're not a hero too, Sentinel Prime sir, cuz you are! I- I just meant that-"

"It's alright," Charade gently cuts him off, struggling to hold the increasingly-wiggly sparkling barely confined in his arms. He bounces Mythos distractedly, trying to shush him. "We know what you meant, little one. We take no offense." Well, perhaps Sentinel might, but Charade wasn't terribly concerned.

The sparkling suddenly keens loudly and begins to kick against his carrier, trying to push his way out of his arms. "Mythos, what are you-" he follows his son's line of sight, and finds him fixated on the purple sticker on the young miner's shoulder. "Oh." He's recognized his Uncle's visage, evidently.

"Uh... is he-"

"Do you want to hold him?" Charade shuffles forward, trying to scoop Mythos back into a more secure hold but the bitty is having none of it. He begins to whine and tug at his carrier's arms. "He wants you to hold him."

"Oh-" D-16 looks embarrassed but delighted, waving his servos shyly in front of him. "N-No, I couldn't, I- I've never-"

"Aw c'mon, D!" Orion slings an arm around his shoulders, conveniently trapping him. "Don't be rude to Mr. Charade~"

"I- I wasn't-"

Too late, Mythos is done waiting and Charade has given up trying to hold him: he steps closer and deftly deposits the sparkling into the miner's lap. His servos are shaking and his arms are stiff and clumsy as they wrap around him, but the little bot doesn't seem to mind. Bitty hands planted on his chest and tiny pedes shaking as he stands on the juvenile's thighs, knock-kneed but managing to hold himself up. They're face to face and Mythos babbles at him, gently papping at his face and squealing in excitement. He promptly falls to the side and D-16 yelps as he hurries to catch him, sandwiching the baby just where he wants to be. He purrs and rubs his little face into the sticker, beginning to lick and suckle at it in affectionate sparkling kisses. It's been so long, but seems he still remembers his Uncle Megatronus's face. It gives Charade hope, that Mythos will still remember his sire, his real sire, as he grows up.

D-16, on the flip side, is quietly amazed: he's never held something so warm and gentle and sweet before. Before Charade eventually takes Mythos back, the sparkling gives him a big, warm hug, bitty arms around his neck and nuzzling under his chin. He doesn't even care that the kid slobbered on his decal, he's just so entranced. His first time seeing a sparkling is nothing short of magical.

Shortly after, they have to wrap up their meeting. Sentinel has another "crusade" to the surface and needs to make preparations, but promises to reward the two miners. Charade lingers behind for a moment as he leaves with Airachnid, whispering to the two boys, "Thank you, for what you did today... I know it's going to make a lot of people happy. Don't... mm. Don't give up, ok?"

And then, yk, Darkwing finds them throws em onto sublevel 50. They find the old datachip from Steve (rip Steve). They decide to break onto the surface by hitching a ride on the delivery train

Now, I'm not sure exactly *how* or *when*. Maybe Charade noticed that Mythos had grabbed something he wasn't supposed to and went to return it. Maybe he decided to keep an eye on them and noticed their shifty behavior. Maybe he heard about their "reassignment" and went to correct it. IDK. But the point is, somehow Charade overhears their conversation about going to find the Primes.

He demands to come along and they refuse initially, because surely they can't bring Sentinel Prime's beloved mate to the most dangerous place in the world! They argue back and forth and back and forth, tensions rising until eventually,

"You have to let me go with you!"

"Charade, sir, we *really* can't-"

And Charade eventually just. Breaks. Tears that he's been holding in since the day Alpha Trion disappeared and Sentinel took over and rush down his face and they seem him crack and shatter in real time. "I *have* to go," he sobs, rasping hoarsely. "I *have* to see what's left of him! If there's anything left, I *have* to see it-!"

They don't know what Charade's not telling him, but his rapidly-crumbling state speaks of the importance very frankly.

"Please-!" He stumbles down to his knees, shoulders shaking as he clasps his servos over his chest. Misery courses potently theough his EM field. "Please... I'm begging you," it was a horrible thing, watching someone they respected so much on his knees and begging. D-16 and Orion both approach him, looking troubled and sparksick. "I beg you... let me go. I need to know- kn-know what happened! Please. I'll not be in the way, I- I must see him again, no matter what."

They concede, of course. They're not heartless. Charade goes along with them and is so troubled seeing Cybertron's surface. Organic flora has begun to sprout and ensnare everything in its vines and foliage in light of the quintesson's work. It was slow going, but it was happening: they were slowly turning the surface of Cybertron into a place for their kind to live. It sickened him to the core.

When they find the Grave and all of the dead Primes and the lost Matrix, Charade is sparkbroken. Solus Prime impaled and splayed out in death, he can barely look. Pallas would weep, to see her beloved goddess like this. He wonders, for the umpteenth time, what became of her. Had Sentinel killed her? Did she escape? No one knew, and no one would tell him. He stops before each of the Primes to pray, reciting their thirteen commandments and pledging to honor their memory and sacrifice. It's not until Orion Pax alerts them to something blinking and buried is Alpha Trion unearthed, and Charade can't take it. Rushes forward to repower his frame thanks to the energon stores of sweet B-127, and he watches with awe and horror as he emerges from his coma. Still calling for help, still primed and ready for battle, still reeling from the horrid betrayal of Sentinel

As soon as he's freed and gets his bearings thanks to their soothing words, he notices Charade there and his jaw visibly drops.

"My... My Ac-"

"LORD ALPHA TRION!" Charade can't contain himself another minute and throws himself at his god's feet, weeping tears of joy as he folds to his knees and clasps his hands. "It's really you-" he sobs. "Praise Primus, thank you Primus, Alpha Trion, my lord, I-"

Quick as lightning the old mech is grabbing Charade by the waist and hauling him into the air with strength that amazes all of the bystanders. "My Acolyte," he rasps and promptly kisses him right there, in front of everyone. Charade squeaks in surprise and promptly wraps his arms ariund his helm, even as the young bots, "Woah!" and avert their optics behind them.

It's Orion Pax who speaks first. "I, um- I thought you were. Uh... bonded to Sentinel Prime?"

"He is no Prime!" Alpha Trions booms and spins to face him. "He does not bear our name!"

After this the truth is revealed and everything plays out pretty much the same, except when they're being hunted Charade tries to stay with Alpha. He's either dragged away kicking and screaming, or stays and dies alongside his mate, fighting fearlessly. Either one works, I'm not picky. Main ending I'm envisioning is, when Megatron starts tearing down the towers, he and Optimus both realize at about the same time that poor bitty Mythos is in one of the collapsing buildings. He targeted Sentinel's tower first, after all 😌 whether or not they manage to save baby remains to be seen

I seriously think that, has D-16 and Orion had a mediator, someone to intervene at the climax and separate them? Let them cool off, have a good night's sleep, and reconvene the next morning, and emotions would bend. Heads would clear and they could salvage this, together. They were so close and so intimately trustful of one another, it didn't have to end with a horrible rift. Perhaps, had they had an experienced adult on their side, things could've been better. That's what Im hoping this AU accomplishes: Alpha Trion's dedicated Acolyte keeping those two from tipping over the edge 🤭

Anyway, I'm done now. Hopefully this was semi-coherent because I just spewed words for an hour to write this, was just so excited and full of thoughts i just had to write them down as fast as possible. Enjoy!

Also if you wanna scream about TF1 with me this is an open invitation to drop into my dms or join my discord or send me asks or literally ANYTHING

#transformers one #alpha trion #kind of a rewrite ig?#orion pax #d-16

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thebigbiwolf · 1 year ago

Text

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing.

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable.

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be.

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you.

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all.

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest.

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet.

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget.

Part of you even enjoyed it.

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement.

And yet, you asked nothing more of him.

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need.

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for.

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig.

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark.

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff, “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.”

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?”

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it.

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels.

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar.

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach.

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future.

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare.

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure.

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch.

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.”

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze.

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance.

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily .

Astarion smiles to himself.

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him.

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him.

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything .

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered.

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive .

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -”

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind.

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear.

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him.

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit.

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work.

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex.

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants.

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length.

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull.

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat .

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss.

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much?

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on.

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?”

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock.

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current.

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you.

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is .

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.”

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole.

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.”

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase.

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming.

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum.

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used.

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ”

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart.

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed.

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him.

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.

What ever will he do with you?

#bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion fanfic #astarion/reader #my fics #mine if only for the night #posting this and then walking the fuck away from my computer

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whaleofatjme1920 · 6 months ago

Text

Mentors and Their Shadows | Part 1

Proxies X GN!Reader

[Warnings: Nothing, really]

[AN: It's... a very general fic. I wanted to write about proxy society, all that kind of jazz. Will be a part 2. Wallace, Theo, Ruth and Nyein are mine. 1.8K words]

Reblogs are appreciated!

“Go entertain yourself,” Wallace hums. His voice is low and much too tired. His glassy eyes stare over the scene as you anxiously fidget beside him. He adjusts his coat slightly and looks down at you. There, you see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

You take in the atmosphere. Loud, raucous, but surprisingly not as destructive as Theo had told you it might be. The scent of proxies fills the air alongside blood, alcohol, and some lysol in a vain attempt to keep the place clean as per the Operator’s orders. The lights here are yellowed and dimmed, some bulbs are red. In your peripheral vision, you can see your group’s independent slinking off much like the overgrown cat they are, accompanied by your group’s right hand, Theo. The blue eyed man sends a barely reassuring grin your way before pushing against some other group’s poor runt telling them to watch themself. To the left of you stands Ruth, your group’s middle child. She’s at your side, a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You gulp slightly when you feel Wallace and Ruth’s eyes on you. “What?” You ask.

“Stop over thinking it,” Ruth says to you. She sets her eyes on the crowd, seemingly looking for someone dear to her. Proxies aren’t supposed to have connections to anyone other than the Operator, but if relationships costuming as human keep them sane, he has yet to hammer them with a ban.

Wallace stretches a bit and nods in agreement. He knows it’s your first time in one of these places. Well, first might be an exaggeration, but he knows you’re a bit of a velcro runt. Why wouldn’t you be? The Operator stole you unfairly, and here you are, attached to your group’s hip. Your group leader, he wants you to be comfortable navigating this space by yourself in case you’re ever separated. Why not now? It’s a perfect time as ever. He knows he’s right there in case you need him, Ruth is always watching, Theo as well and Nyein can sniff out trouble from a mile away. This safe zone is particularly safe, and not too uptight. Mirror Mountain has always been loved by independents and proxies alike.

Slowly, you nod. “Okay.”

Ruth smiles and pats your back, “nice, you got this.” She shimmies away from you to find that proxy dear to her and taps at her temple reminding you much like an older sister might of head-talk, a proxy’s unique bond with their group should anything go south.

You turn your head to the side to see Wallace off as well only to find he’s disappeared in the crowd. Though, if you focus hard enough, you can hear his worn laughter as he talks to an eyeless cannibal with a Polish accent about where he’s been all these weeks. You’re aware of some of the local legends in the Operator’s society. He runs around with favorites, but names like the ones you’re sharing space with tonight are all well known and beloved.

Fate would have it that, after a few minutes of awkwardly moving around various proxies that have been in the game longer than you, that you would find a seat at the table of the Operator’s most beloved group. Perhaps ‘beloved’ isn’t the right word, but they’re definitely favored.

Masky, otherwise known as Tim Wright, is surrounded by cigarette smoke. Mirror Mountain is one of the only proxy spaces that allows him to smoke as much as he does, or rather, it’s one of the only safe zones where his right hand doesn’t complain to him to stop. His right hand is Hoodie, or Brian Thomas, and their middle children are Toby, and Kate the Chaser. They have no runt ever since Kate broke free from her runt status, and are not accompanied by any independents except for the few that pair up with them on operations as per the Operator’s orders.

So, here you sit across from the two men, a leader and his right hand, once again awkwardly messing with the hem of your shirt and scared to even look them in the eye. Wallace isn’t usually insane about adhering to proxy social norms, but respecting leaders and their right hands is of utmost importance to him as a leader himself.

“We’ve seen you around before,” Masky says as he puffs out smoke from his cigarette. “We’re actually due for working with you soon,” he muses as he casts a look to Hoodie, who nods to confirm the statement. He leans back in his chair to show his comfort and as he does so, studies you closely. You’re nervous, but not incapable. Just anxious to be around him and Hoodie. It makes him chuckle softly. “You remind me of someone,” he says in passing.

Hoodie rolls his eyes in response. “He means you’re an anxious little shit,” he says point blank. His eyes twinkle with mischief, mostly to let you know he’s playing before he too adjusts his posture to show his comfort around you. When you pull a small face, Hoodie snorts a laugh. You remind him so much of Kate when he’d pull her leg too.

They ask about you despite knowing so much already. Who are you? Where did you come from? What has the hazing process been like for you so far? It’s quite pleasant, honestly. You haven’t been afforded a real conversation in quite some time, so having it with a group that isn’t yours is a nice surprise. You’re able to voice so many thoughts in your head and not have to risk your group breathing down your neck about it despite generally liking your group. You tell them about your experiences working, but there’s a surprising lack of being enmeshed in the Operator’s society.

“This is my first time in a place like this,” you say. “I mean, I guess, not a first but I haven’t been in these places long enough to know what to… do. Etiquette?” You attempt to explain. You’re much more relaxed as you share their company now. You stretch just a little bit, a nonverbal sign of comfort and clear your throat.

“Did you want anything to drink?” He asks as a formality, wanting to sew good tidings between his group and yours even though you, as a runt, are subject to abuse from nearly every proxy ranking above you. However, Hoodie believes that groups he’s due to work with should have slightly better, more preferable treatment as opposed to those he’s barely made acquaintanceship with. So, you get treated a bit nicer even if you’re just a runt in his eyes.

“Just water, please.”

Hoodie nods once more, and then whistles. When a lowly independent walks by, he greets them politely and asks for a glass of water. You raise your brows in surprise, never really having seen other proxies treat independents like they’re equals outside of your group - and even your Theo treats them awfully.

“We work a lot with independents,” Masky covers to satiate your budding curiosity. “I’m sure you heard of Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned,” he trails off, listing off well known friends, “Hood, Toby, Kate and I have never been fans of being dicks for the sake of status,” he shrugs to end his statement. Masky shares a small glance with his right hand, and a million thoughts rush through their shared stream of consciousness. Masky leans forward and smiles at the independent who briefly cuts in to place the glass of water down on the table before he slides it over to you and urges you to take a sip. “You don’t have a mentor, do you?” He inquires, very curious on the subject of you appropriately merging into proxy society. The dark haired man had already assumed appropriately that you didn’t, but he just wanted to hear it directly from you.

“Ruth’s mentioned wanting me to find one, she says that Ny doesn’t count,” you tell them. You slide your index finger over the rim of the glass and feel the cool, smooth texture under your touch. The warmth of body heat in the room seems to die down as you raise the glass to your lips and start to drink some of the water. You feel calmed having some, more prepared to talk to proxies that are being surprisingly gentle to you. “But I never really see any independents outside of when we’re… here,” you finish with a soft chuckle. How are you meant to get experience if none is provided?

Hoodie clears his throat and looks around, “where’s your leader?”

You cock your head to the side but ask inside your head. In your mind’s eye, you can visualize your voice as a wave of light. It bounces, and takes on the color of your soul. It’s odd that proxies even have souls, in your opinion.

‘Where are you?’

‘Near the back drinking some beer with EJ. Why?’

‘Hoodie is asking.’

‘What? Stay right there.’

You blink a few times to break out of the trance head talk often puts new proxies in and turn your attention back to the men sitting in front of you. Hanging off to the side of them with a keen eye is Toby himself. He’s got a stupid little red cup of redbull vodka but he’s invested in whatever the hell is going on between his leader, right hand and you even as he sips his drink. It’s odd how in tune you are with your own group. You can feel Wallace’s footsteps like the beating of your own heart. He doesn’t sound upset, more so annoyed that he knows why the two of them are asking.

Slinking up from behind you is Wallace. His eyes still carry that glazed, dead look but he’s subtly stewing at the insinuation Hoodie and Masky have thrown his way. “What do you need?” His voice is clipped, like he’d rather be drinking instead of holding an audience with them.

“You’re embarrassing,” Masky says in response. “You’ve had this one for… 6 months already? Not even let them find a mentor?” He challenges.

It’s just like proxies to start a fight over something so minor.

You lean forward to hear more and more of the conversation, feeling Wallace’s hand grip on your shoulder as he defends not forcing you to find a mentor sooner, and Masky’s biting responses that question Wallace’s ability as a group leader. You lean further and further before feeling yourself gripped back when Wallace lunges, and Masky and Hoodie laugh.

You gasp softly as gloved hands grip you from the back of your neck like a dog might it’s puppy and shove you away from the budding fight. “Eh, you don’t wanna see that,” Toby’s low voice chuckles. “Come on, I’ll solve the independent bit with you.” He gives you a toothy grin, you can see his teeth pressed together from the open cheek he has, while he guides you towards a different part of the bar.

You glance over your shoulder to hear the commotion caused by your group leader, now your right hand, and Toby's.

"It's really nothing special," Toby quips.

You look forward and then up at him. "Independents?"

"Yeah, some of the best are here tonight."

He smiles.

And you do too.

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #oc x reader #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets x you #brian thomas x reader #tim wright x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you

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lavena · 1 year ago

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Since I am so incredibly desperate for tmnt fic recs, here I am supplying mine. All of these i HAVE READ AT LEAST 3 TIMES

pretty much all Mikey centric and jsyk every one I recommended I reread b4 posting this. Sorry If I repeat any, this took me over a week, college is kicking my butt and midterms are next week, kill me. If you have any you red please lmk either in comments or with rb I need the ficss guys please I am desperate.

On AO3

Train-wreck of thought by halogalopagost

A beautiful 2003 tmnt where Mikey is having trouble meditating and gets some tips from his dad and brothers, he struggles with his ADHD, he over comes it and turns out there is a lot more to this meditating than he thought. he intends to use it to his advantage.

The Legend of the Heiwa no Buki by abz_the_turtle

2012 Mikey is pure of heart and turns out that causes some problems for him, his brothers and a certain bother in blue from the future

exhaust trails through space by SpectrumWriting

2012 B team realizes they really need a break, after a fight between Leo and Donnie, B team pull a few favors and go to visit a few planets, look at some extraterrestrial inventions and get to see a festival of food. Each brother learns new things about each other and finally get to take a few deep breaths.

Surface Pressure by TheKeyBladeMaster1994

Mikey watched Encanto and something abut their family feels familiar. Honest to go so good, it is unfinished and only at 3 chapters but it is 32k words and by god if it isnt one of the best books I have read over 5 times already, featuring mikey being a helpful little brother and managing to stress his big brothers out in the proccess.

Pretend That I Never Left by redstingraven (sirimiri)

2003 Mikey gets taken into the Horizon Zero Dawn universe rather than the superpowered turtle universe in the SAINW episode. Positively glorious, he gets bashed and bruised and comes out the other end with an arrow sticking out of him.

All The Small Things by taizi @taizi

2012 Donnie gets deaged and Mikey gets to be a big brother. Positively adorable, Mikey is an enabler and the poor toaster will never be the same, plus just the right amount of angst to make me squeal.

Underdark by Nekotsuki

2003 Mikey and Leo and stuck in the sewers after a collapse, both are hurt and oh looky here it seems Leo has fainted and Mikey is panicking, it would be great if he could take a full breath to hyperventilate with.

We've been here all along by Taizi

Beautiful 2007 tmnt, Mike gets shot, worries about making Donnie abandon him, Casey says fuck that.

walk with open hands by taizi

Mikey can't get over his fathers death and knows his brothers cant get over it either, and he is going to do something about it, been if it almost costs him everything. Was originally 1 chapter, but a second chapter from Splinters POV makes everything gorgeous.

traveling so far to get there by taizi

different age turtles, 2012 universe, Mikey and Raph gets transported to a post-apocalypses time-line aptly called the after party, no one lives, but Mikey does manage to find himself a monkey companion and Raph really wishes his little brother and him would be back home. Little moment of Mikey and Donnie being twins that is positively adorable and I need more of it ASAP. Its 10k words but reads like 30 in the best way possible, like literally a must read!

Closer by Taizi

adorable human woodyangelo

Problem child by taizi

human AU, Mikey is going to give his big brothers a heart attack, he makes questionable friends, and it seems he has a lot of growing up to be doing

Things You Never Outgrow by taizi

Mikey might just have picked up some less than stellar habits from his family as a baby, and now its coming out to bite him in the butt as his brothers notice.

Know the world in yourself by taizi

Donatello is an aspiring Egyptologist, and close friends with part-time thief and sometimes-scoundrel Casey Jones, who pickpockets an ancient map of the fabled City of the Dead off a young man he stumbles across in the Casbah—a young adventurer, it turns out, and none other than the little brother Donatello hasn't seen in almost eight years

Small spaces by Taizi

After 2012 Mikey gets captured and held by the Kraang, it seems he might just have a new fear, his brothers are not happy about it.

While you're here enjoy the view by taizi

Cute little woodyangelo 2012. They have my heart

Sleepwalking by TheKeybladeMaster1994

Splinter wakes up in a cold sweat and notices that Mikey is missing, and it seems like a dark entity is after his littlest sons light, good thing its just a nightmare, right? A few nights later it seems that is not so. Only 4 chapters but has 30k words and is a positive joy to read, I hope it continues to update.

The Ultimate Weapon by TheKeybladeMaster1994

Mikey is pure of heart and just about everything knows it, including but not limited to an eldritch entity that he swears is just try to make his life hard no matter what it tells you.

Interrogation or Malpractice by Professor_Anxietree

2012 Mikey when he got captured by the triceritons, their mind reading machine doesn't do quite what was intended and it spells out pain and sufferings for the smallest of the Hamato clan. Its pretty much being over stimulated to the max, like your skin feels too tight and you can hear your nerons firing in your brain type stuff, beware if you have overstimulation.

Someone to Protect by Koalagriton

2012. Mikey's big bothers get captured by Hun and Mikey doesn't take it well, that's going to become Huns problem.

Flowers by intomyfireyoushallfall

Mikey meets Tang Shen

The shinobi's garden by taizi

buncha one shots that you have to read, you have to istg 66k words of nothing but amazing.

family sticks together, bruh by hellomyoldheart

Mikey (Bayverse) discovers online shopping and sends it to Aprils place, April gets a package addressed for Mikey O'neil

too bad, but its the life you lead by angelmichelangelo @angelmichelangelo

2k7my beloved. Mikey is having trouble at home, good thing this new cat he found, affectionately named Klunk, can help a little. You will cry, I cried, still have read it four times, but crying non the less, read the tags or it will hit you like a freight train

the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo

pepaw Ronin and the new babies, adorable and angst ( in the form of flashbacks) nuff said

a minute from home by taizi

bteam for the win, I cant get enough, baby don and mikey wonder off and survive 3 months, it changes them

I've been afraid of changing by taizi

2007 Mikey really hates his job, Donnie didn't get that, but now he does

Give up the ghost series by taizi

Mikey can see ghosts, and that means he can see his one and only dead brother too, donnie, it causes problems for eveyone around him. human AU

The Gauntlet by T33la

Mikey and Don have to take a leap of faith, good thing Mikey has complete trust in his big bros tech

Flipbook by T33la

the 2003 SAINW donnie boy planned just in case and mikey finds the first bit of the plan, talks happen

Chronicles of the Cretaceous by T33la

Mikey boy manages to befriend a T-rex because of course he does

Words to be Spoken by Mona_E_Lisa @mona-e-lisa

Soulmate Au with woodyangelo, its got angst, just not for the boys, nd holy shyt I need more

The Silver Sentry by Mona_E_Lisa

2003 Mikey gets a son, and he deffo has some problems with Splinter, and I love him more than words

2088 by Mona_E_Lisa

If you haven't read this you haven't lived and that's all I can say. What are you doing? go read it??? like asap, will change you. Its 6k and this post will still be here when you get back, get going now sho sho

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx @unorthodoxx-page

ATLA x tmnt 2018, everyone thinks they are spirits, donnie boy isn't going to correct them, and mikey ends up malnourished, but it updates this sunday so GO Go Go asap, it great

turning over stone by angelmichelangelo

2012 mikey gets angry, and kami does it suck, but good thing his big brother has experience in dealing with it.

caught in the rip tide by angelmichelangelo

Mikey gets hurt, and it might just be leos fault. 2012 based on the season 4 episode broken food.

yolk by angelmichelangelo

Mikey can't take the fighting anymore, too bad it took wrecking a midnight breakfast for his brothers to notice.

december 18th: raise a glass by angelmichelangelo

Mikey turns 21, and they really should be winding down by now, but Donnie doesn't have the heart. technically tagged with 2012 and IDW, but could totally see it with 2007 if u ignore that raph is in japan

december 15th: a size too big by angelmichelangelo

2007 Mikey was supposed to be bac an hour ago, he is gonna be the death of Donnie I swear.

the Kappas constellation by angelmichaelangelo

bunch a one shots

Honestly just anything by angelmichelangelo or taizi, but you can see that with how often they show up in this list

FF.net

Its a cycle by GhostiesandGhoulies

Adorable 2007 Mikey being hurt while doing cowabunga car and his brothers looking after him

Clogged drain by Goblin cat KC

Horror, the poor boys were not ready for this one but I adore it. Nothing more I can say than they will have nightmares and all of them will have night lights.

Hero among them by oliviasbizzaremind

2007 gang gets a call after a rough night, its for cowabunga carl, so how exactly does this lady know Mikey's name? Mikey always was a bleeding heart.

If Wishes were Fishes by Taisi (this is also on A03 I believe I just found it on ff.net fist so i figured id share that here too)

Human AU, adorable must read, like I cant stress this enough, you haven't lived without this. And as a former foster kid, damn.

Mikey's truly awful, incredibly sucky, super hella bummer of a day by Orange4Days

Exactly what the title says and you will enjoy this boys suffering and eventual comfort.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fics #tmnt fic recs #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction recs #fic recommendation #fic rec #mikey fanfics #mikey-centric #Michelangelo fics #Michelangelo #Michelangelo-centric #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2003 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 2007 mikey #tmnt 2012 #tmnt idw

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pimento-playing-hopscotch · 7 months ago

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Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you for the tag, @honeybee-taskforce @welcometololaland 💝

(Yes I'm aware this is more of a so much more than seven sentences Sunday but I couldn't decide where to cut this lol)

cw; blood

This is from the next chapter of my TK and Sophie fic -

2011 -

“Don’t listen to him,” Sophie said as soon as their dad was out of earshot. “It’s so not a big deal”.

TK fiddled with his ear anxiously. “It’s a hell of a thing to do for the jackass who stole your money and ruined your birthday, Soph”.

“You didn’t ruin my birthday,” his sister shrugged. “When we were on the roof, you woke up. If you hadn’t… well, that would have ruined it”.

“Still”. TK sighed, sidestepping that entirely in favor of saving his self-loathing for later. “I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf. I love you for doing that,” he added. “But… you getting into trouble isn’t going to get me out of trouble. And it won’t get me home any faster”.

“I know that, stupid,” Sophie rolled her eyes, keeping to herself the not-so-itsy-bitsy part of her that did hope if she reclaimed her spot as the Bad Child, then they would let TK come home early. “But I can’t listen to people say shit about you that isn’t true”.

“They’re gonna say it anyway,” TK told her. “I was hearing it when I was still there. And I don’t want your hands to look like that because of me,” he said as he looked at her heavily bandaged knuckles.

“These?” Sophie snorted as she looked down at her hand. “I don’t even need these. They’re just cause Dad overreacted”.

“Not true, first of all,” Owen said as he rejoined them. “Second of all, this happened when your sister was in class”.

“Daddy, you think you’re making too big a thing of this?” Sophie asked. “I mean, you were young once. Probably. At some point”.

“I don’t think it’s possible to make too big a thing of this, Sophie Soph,” Owen replied. “And I did things as a kid. But they weren’t mash-your-knuckles-on-someone-else’s-until-they-bleed… things”.

“Bloody knuckles?” TK guessed. “Soph, you were playing bloody knuckles in class?”

“How do you know what that is, TK?” Owen asked.

TK nibbled on his lip. “I may have… dabbled in it once or twice after school”.

“Told you it wasn’t just me”. Sophie preened. “Besides, it’s Ms. Christensen’s own stupid fault. She said she wasn’t going to put all the stupid kids in one group anymore when we worked on vocab words, because we don’t get anything done”.

“You aren’t stupid, Soph,” TK and Owen said in stereo.

“But she put me and Carter in the same group anyway,” Sophie continued, undeterred. “And Micah and Spencer were writing out definitions and Carter asked if I wanted to play bloody knuckles, what was I supposed to say?”

“I really think a simple no would have been good,” Owen answered.

“Did you win?” TK asked.

“TK!” Owen admonished.

“I did”. His sister happily nodded. He flinched first. And his knuckles started bleeding way before mine did”.

“Soph, I think that’s a game where there are no winners,” Owen told her.

No pressure tagging - I tag @sznofthesticks @anewkindofme @carlos-in-glasses @kiankiwi

@lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @actualalligator @chaotictarlos

@liminalmemories21 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @literateowl @terramous

@nancygillianmvp @chicgeekgirl89 @firstprince-history-huh @reyestrandd

@paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @carlos-tk @herefortarlos

@alrightbuckaroo @snowviolettwhite @the-flaming-nightmare @lochnesswriter

@fallout-mars @vineofroses @theghostofashton @goodways

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@jesuisici33 @mikibwrites @doublel27 @basilsunrise

@rmd-writes @celeritas2997 @safeaswrites @decafdino

@thebumblecee @sugdenlovesdingle @birdclowns @welcomehometk

@tellmegoodbye @mooshkat @tailoredshirt @thisbuildinghasfeelings and anyone else who wants to do it - open tag 🫶

#seven sentence sunday #911 lone star

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years ago

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Strong Dragons (Part Four)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Masterlist Here

Pairing: Daemon x Fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

Warnings: NSFW! 18+ only! Smut, mature themes and language, P in V, dirty talking, breeding kink, fingering, arranged marriages, unprotected rough/raw sex (wrap it before you tap it), incest, oral (female receiving), dom!rhaenyra, graphic depictions of pregnancy and labor, threesomes, death, depictions of both the books and shows, etc.

Word Count: 7,563

Tag: strong dragons hotd fic

Summary: Y/n’s pregnancy progresses as well as her reputation on Dragonstone. Daemon and Rhaenyra are enthralled by their Mother of Dragons.

Requested by: @ivy-targaryen

Taglist:

@lol-im-done @stitchattacks @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @faerosewood1723 @esquivelbianca @demiismylord @evattude @goldensunflowe-r @fexibau @chiyausu @aphroditesmoon @winter-soldier-101 @ashlatano7567 @mochimommy2002 @champomiel @ilovemydinoboi @jackthemarvelfinatic @kindaslightlyacidic @bubbles2416 @hotd-fic @thatkinkylesgirl1 @nnyets @honeypillowsblog @pindoris @sugarmilkteaxkookiesxcream @rxscpctals @lethal-minds @witch-of-letters @green-lxght @wondergal2001 @boofy1998 @elliemilani @minbeatriz16 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @rockerchick05 @midnightrqin @starloriha @kaitieskidmore1 @kat4na @ally22042000 @deathlyweird @eonnyx @weepingwitchofthewest @borikenlove @lovleaura @thewitch-lives @kneelarmhstrung @xrosegoldwolfx @mikariell95 @mxxny-lupin @gruffle1 @siimiasoi @the-spectacular-spider-bitch @automaticwizardnerd @here4thefanfic @i-love-morally-gray-characters @esmeralda-tupi @deadgirldreaming @poppyreader @mukduk-not-murder @bri3009 @issybee0611 @nzygftoji @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @watercolorskyy @ripnevillestrevor

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

A/N: Tumblr kept deleting this as I worked on it so now I’m frustrated to the point I’m in tears. I’m definitely taking a break from this series as I’m too exhausted to bother right now after all that stress.

The following week upon Y/n's arrival was a busy one, to be sure. Dragonstone was filled with activity as Rhaenyra announced to her staff that both Prince Daemon and Lady Y/n would act as every bit the lord and lady of the keep as the princess and her own husband. The servants, loyal to Rhaenyra and loyal to her secret arrangement, welcomed Y/n with open arms, each individual introducing themselves while Y/n tried her best to remember all their names for their devoted kindness. It appeared as though the idea of a child excited the entire island -not just her lovers- as they helped their new lady feel at home.

Gerardys, Rhaenyra's head maester assigned to Dragonstone, confirmed what Y/n already knew, that she was, indeed, with child. He suspected that she was, at the very least, three moons along, since she hasn't even begun to show through her dresses. Now that her pregnancy was confirmed, Rhaenyra made sure to provide the best servants for her female lover, even introducing her to her own handmaidens, including the most loyal, Elinda Massey. Elinda was the youngest of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and the most devoted to House Targaryen overall. She was sweet and caring, a pretty young woman who pulled at Y/n's heartstrings. After meeting Elinda, Y/n pats Rhaenyra's arm and assures her that she would get along beautifully with her handmaidens.

Y/n had been aware of the fool, Mushroom. She knew of him only by reputation in court, a three-foot dwarf with a large head and a lackwit of intelligence, but nevertheless, a devoted, loyal servant to Rhaenyra, who has known him for the entirety of her father's reign. Mushroom tended to favor the princess over King Viserys and therefore followed her back to Dragonstone. Once introduced to all the handmaids at her disposal, Y/n was then greeted by a particular servant Rhaenyra had promised would make her laugh. Mushroom was delightful to Lady Y/n. A little crude, perhaps, but he did indeed earn a hearty laugh out of her and a silent trust to always rely on him with her secrets, as many have gained with Mushroom over the years, whether it was earned or foolishly given.

While Rhaenyra was in charge of Y/n becoming acquainted with her staff, Daemon charged himself with helping his new wife feel more comfortable with the island itself. He took her on many walks along the beaches and gave her plenty of cautionary tales about the volcano looming over their new castle. He made sure Y/n was aware of the many caves surrounding the island of his ancestral home, and informed her of what to do should she ever accidentally stumble upon a dragon. Daemon wasn't entirely worried about the tamed ones, as long as Y/n didn't try to ride them without their respective companion... he was more or less bothered by the idea of his pregnant wife accidentally coming across a dragon with no rider.

"How many are there?" She had asked one night over dinner, "Which dragons are without a rider?"

"Vermithor and Silverwing are castle dragons, beasts who had been tamed before but over the years have lost their riders," Daemon explained from his seat beside her, one of his arms draped over the back of her chair, "They once belonged to King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, my grandparents. Then there are the wild dragons, beasts untamed and have never known the bond of a rider. Grey Ghost, the Cannibal, and Sheepstealer are the ones you should be most careful of."

"That doesn't mean to be less cautious of the other dragons, like Vermithor and Silverwing," Rhaenyra had cut in with alert eyes captivating Y/n's, "They may have known human companionship in the past, but that doesn't mean they will be familiar with you. It's been a long time since they have been ridden, therefore it's best to just give them their space and they will give you yours."

"Our dragons might be the most decent towards you," Laenor assures Y/n, "Caraxes, Syrax, and Seasmoke have more experience with human interaction and are smart enough to realize that you are a friend to them. But I wouldn't suggest seeking them out unless you were with one of us."

"Which reminds me," Rhaenyra beams, avoiding the less dreary topic while setting down her fork excitedly, "With our new prince or princess on the way, we will need to pick out a dragon egg for them."

One of the many topics that made Y/n feel like a stranger in her new home. She had nearly forgotten the prospect of a dragon baby in her belly, "To place it in their crib, right?"

"That is the custom, yes. Usually, the parent chooses the egg, and you are welcome to come with us."

"Into Dragonmont?" The woman's dark eyes widen, looking around at the three dragon riders before her, sheepish and possibly worried, "I have no experience with dragons let alone their eggs."

Daemon nods in agreement, addressing his wife but exchanging a glance of approval with Rhaenyra, "It's best if we get you and the dragons properly acquainted then."

Rhaenyra nods in response, "Perhaps you should ride with one of us on our dragon."

Laenor bursts out laughing, startling everyone including the servants as they bring silverware and food to and from the table. Y/n recognizes the jest and found herself in the mind of a child as she grabs the nearest thing, an apple, before aiming and throwing the fruit across the table at Laenor's head. She had missed pitifully, but the attempt made the Velaryon lord laugh, even more, clutching his midsection when his ribs began to hurt. Y/n could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but even the corner of her mouth turned up into an amused smile.

Rhaenyra, however, looked baffled while turning her gaze between her husband and her aunt, "Have I missed something?"

Y/n had barely heard her over Laenor's laughter. One look from Daemon slowly shuts him up, but a grin is still plastered on his face, eyes twinkling at Y/n as she bashfully ducks her head, "I didn't fare very well at sea. I doubt I'd fare well on the back of a dragon."

The princess grasps her meaning and relaxed her furrowed eyebrows, flashing a heatless glare at Laenor and causing him to cough to cover the last bit of laughter within him. Y/n playfully glared at her niece's husband as well but didn't even try to fight the smile this time.

"Well, the choice is yours, my love. You may not want to be familiar with dragons now, but perhaps you can learn and grow alongside our child's dragon when their egg hatches."

Her smile sparkles, "That would be lovely. I will start out small, just as our child will with their lifelong companion."

~~~~~~~~~

Getting used to kisses on her belly would be a bit of a challenge for Y/n, but not something she would likely grow tired of. Despite not showing through her dresses, it's clear to her lovers that her body has already begun to change in order to accommodate the child. Rhaenyra blatantly kisses Y/n's abdomen one night, after already shedding the Lady Strong of all her layers, and feels the slowly forming bump beneath her pale lips. Rhaenyra smiled into her female lover's flesh, biting back a moan when Daemon involuntarily thrusts into her at the sight before him, Y/n sprawled over the edge of the bed while Rhaenyra bent over her. Daemon stood behind Rhaenyra, lined up against her backside as he continued to pull out and slowly ease back into her heat. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra continued to kiss Y/n's belly before leaving a wet trail down to her already glistening cunt, the princess softly blowing cool air over the heat and sending shivers up the lady's spine. Y/n arched her back, whimpering without any friction to satisfy her needs, trying her best to remain still with her hands fisting the bedsheets near her head.

"Rhaenyra--"

"My apologies, love," the princess kissed the soft inside of the lady's thigh. Y/n could feel her smirk against her trembling skin, "I was merely doting on our child."

Y/n scoffs up at the ceiling, "Perhaps you should dote on me first, or else I'll pray to the gods for our child to bear my reputation of holding a grudge."

"We best be careful with this one," Daemon cuts in, still thrusting his hips against Rhaenyra's arse while whispering into her ear, amusement stitched into his low voice, "I'm beginning to think her bite is worse than her bark."

Rhaenyra hums in agreement, closing her eyes and pulling her head back in bliss when his cock hits that certain, perfect spot inside her, "I think she's becoming more of a dragon the longer she's here. Perhaps it is both a blessing and a curse."

"It'd be less of a curse if you would stop talking and touch me, Princess."

The female Targaryen is startled out of laughter, gasping up to the ceiling of her chambers when Daemon's hip jerks forward unexpectedly, out of rhythm. Both uncle and niece are clearly affected by their Strong woman's demand, both equally shocked and aroused by her sudden boldness.

"If pregnancy brings out this side of you, I think we'll have to keep you full with our children all the time."

~~~~~~~~~

High Valyrian proved to be a difficult language to learn. Y/n had asked one evening if one or both of her lovers could teach her so that she might be able to communicate with them and any children they'll have in the future. Daemon and Rhaenyra were delighted to teach Y/n their mother tongue and tried their best to teach her when any free time was given. Much like the times Y/n and Daemon would spend time together by the hearth in King's Landing, the three lovers now spent the same time by the hearth together on Dragonstone.

"Ñuhon lenton Targārien jorrāelza issa?" She tried reciting one evening, her nose scrunching up as even she doubted the way she phrased the sentence, "'My love is for House Targaryen?'"

Lounging on the other end of the couch, fondly watching her female lover, Rhaenyra faintly smiled, a breath of laughter escaping her lips, "You were close, my love, though I believe there's an easier way to phrase that."

Y/n's eyebrows scrunch together in frustration, scowling, "It doesn't help that there are half a dozen ways to say your family name and half a dozen ways to say 'my'."

"We can continue learning words before having you recite full sentences." When Y/n nods in agreement, Rhaenyra straightens her posture to be fully facing her, "Mountain."

"Blēnon."

"Mountains?"

"Blēna."

"Iron Throne." Their male lover cuts in from the chair across from them, wine goblet in one hand and an open book in the other.

"Daemon."

He shrugs in response to Rhaenyra's reprimand, "She'll likely be saying that more often than 'mountain.'"

Y/n's expression turns devious, her eyes shining with mischief while purposely staring Daemon directly in the eyes as she spoke in confidence, "Āegenkon Dēmalion."

The fire blazing in the hearth casts a dark shadow over Daemon's silhouette, but Y/n's figure is ignited by the flames, glowing softly, driving the Rogue Prince into silence. He stares right back, the essence of a gentle smirk beginning to form as he stands from his seat, "Very good, lady wife."

She beams with pride, tilting her head up to him, carefully watching his every move as she responds in kind to his praise, "Targārien kostōba Āegenkon Dēmalion issi."

{Targaryens are powerful on the Iron Throne}

Even Rhaenyra's stomach jumped with delight at Y/n's powerful phrase, complementary to the way Daemon sinks to his knees in front of the woman as if her words weighed him down. He was short of breath, strong hands reaching out to caress her legs beneath her skirt, reaching up underneath until they graze the inside of her thighs, "Excellent. And how would you say 'my son will sit upon the Iron Throne?'"

Y/n shivered under his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she willed herself not to move under his ministrations. She had nearly forgotten her husband's question until she felt Rhaenyra's hand in her hair, bringing her back down to the mortal realm. By now, Daemon's fingers were already reaching into forbidden places in the eyes of the gods, while his forehead leans into her growing stomach. Rhaenyra was placing soft kisses into Y/n's shoulder, over her dress until the princess decided to move the sleeve aside and continue the kisses along her bare skin. Y/n licked her lips, forcing herself to remember her lessons, hesitant compared to the other two phrases as she stutters out a response,

"... Ñuhon trēsy Āegenkon Dēmalion dēmagon."

~~~~~~~~~

"My love. We have a gift for you."

Looking up from her book, Y/n spotted Rhaenyra standing in the open doorway of her chambers, Daemon following close behind the princess as they entered their expecting lover's apartments. Smiling, Y/n closed her book and carefully stood from her chair, one arm sticking out for balance while the other held onto the more prominent bump around her middle that has grown significantly in the last few moons. Peering back at her lovers and noticing their appalled reactions, Y/n flashed them a devious look. They had recently become more possessive than usual and dote on Y/n almost religiously, worried by every step she takes. Normally, they are right by her side when she has to stand up, and even Lady Strong could admit that they're helpful in that aspect. Sometimes it's hard to get back up on her feet. If it weren't for her silver-haired dragons, Y/n would have likely found herself stuck in place until someone would eventually came around and find her there.

Daemon rolled his eyes at his wife's antics, stepping forward to take her hand in his while looping his free arm around her lower back, and walking alongside her toward her tea table. Y/n directed her gaze to the door again when two figures emerged, carrying a rather large item.

A large urn, heavy enough that two dragonkeepers must lift it together. It was round and likely made of iron, with padded handles the dragonkeepers used to carry and refrain from burning themselves. They place the urn on the tea table, hot steam billowing out from beneath the lid. When Rhaenyra nods her head, one of the dragonkeepers removes the big lid, slowly to further express its weight. Inside, without being told, it wasn't hard for Y/n to guess that the gift was none other than a dragon egg. She had never seen one before, but the rounded shape and the light green, scale-like shell surrounding it was a dead giveaway. Heated coals and embers surround the object, acting as a portable incubator.

Daemon announced the egg with pride, "A gift fit for the Mother of Dragons."

Y/n reached her hand out but refrained from touching the egg, feeling the heat coming off around the scales. Her smile was faint, eyes sparkling in awe as she breathlessly stated, "It's beautiful."

Rhaenyra beamed proudly at the praise, "I picked it out myself."

Daemon moved to stand behind Y/n, hands gently holding her shoulders as he kissed the back of her head, "A dragon egg sired from Syrax and Caraxes. There could not be a more perfect choice for our future prince or princess."

Rhaenyra reaches out and Y/n gladly takes her accepted hand. The princess brings her female lover's hand over to the egg, unafraid and showing the lady that the egg was not too hot to the touch. It was considerably warm, forming sweat in Y/n's palm almost instantly, but Rhaenyra appeared unbothered by the heat, "Hold this against your womb tonight, my dear. And when the baby gets here, we will leave it in its crib."

The expecting mother nods in understanding, taking the instructions to heart. She straightens her posture, addressing the dragonkeepers standing across the table. Y/n nods to them, trying to best to perfect her accent as she spoke, "Kirimvose." {Thank you}

The dragonkeepers nod back, eyes widening in acknowledgment of her proper pronunciation. Rhaenyra radiates pride for Y/n's High Valyrian before she also addressed the dragonkeepers using the same tongue. They leave at her behest and Daemon moves away from Y/n and circles the table, placing the urn's cover over the egg again.

Y/n takes her hands back and places them on her new perch over her belly. A thought enters her head and she hesitates for only a moment before addressing her lovers, "Speaking of the baby's arrival. I have made arrangements with the midwives for when I begin my labors." Both Targaryens tilt their heads in attention to her and she continues, "I will have four attend to me along with Maester Gerardys and Elinda Massey."

"Do you not want us there?" Daemon questions with a small raised eyebrow.

"I wouldn't ask that of you," she explained gently, "Traditionally, husbands don't accompany their wives to the birthing bed. I would be content if the two of you accompany each other on dragonback while I go into labor."

"That's not what he asked, my love," Rhaenyra countered quietly, "He asked if you did not want us there for the birth. If that's what you truly want, then say the word and we'll respect it. But I doubt it." Her suspicions were correct, as Y/n appeared troubled, a crinkle forming between her eyes when her eyebrows scrunched together, "What is it?"

"It's just..." Y/n sighed heavily, her weight shifting with the pregnant stomach clearly weighing her down, "Both you and Daemon have suffered the horrors of childbirth. You might not have experienced it personally, but you have suffered through both of your mothers. Aemma and Alyssa suffered and perished due to complications of childbirth, did they not?"

Neither of them answered, but their eyes appeared haunted at the reminder, nevertheless. Y/n shook her head as her voice slowly began to crumble, "... I couldn't possibly ask you both to sit and watch something like that happen to me."

The Rogue Prince appeared skeptical, "And you believe something like that will happen to you?"

Rhaenyra changes direction, addressing Daemon in defense of Y/n, "Childbirth is a woman's battlefield, Uncle. Many women, even the strongest, sometimes never survive it. It is the way of things... at least that is what my mother told me."

The princess turns back to Y/n, rounding the table to draw closer to her. A mist forms in Rhaenyra's eyes, clouded by distant, unpleasant memories, "I wasn't there when my mother died. I wish I was. Perhaps I could have been a form of comfort for her. I could have held my brother for however long he lived. I won't make that mistake again." She slowly moved her hands up, placing them on either side of Y/n's face to gently force their eyes to meet, stepping closer until their unborn child was snug between their bodies, "It would hurt me more if I was not there for you. Riding on dragonback while you faced this alone would not give me peace of mind. Please, allow me to stay with you."

Y/n hesitates, opening and closing her mouth but couldn't find the words she was searching for. Instead of refusing, she nods, letting out a shaking breath as Rhaenyra pulls her face in and kisses her cheek lovingly. They share that moment of silence, past ghosts still fresh in their minds before they both take a deep breath and turn to their prince, awaiting him.

Daemon moves around the table to join them, his pale eyes fixed on Y/n, "My mother was strong. Stronger than most of the women in my family... and my brother, they named him Aegon... he didn't survive long after she... I was too young to remember much, but I know that if I had the power, I would have taken my mother's pain from her. In a heartbeat. If I could somehow pull it from you, I would. Let me try."

Even if she was unsure of accepting the offer, Y/n didn't want to necessarily worry her lovers more by arguing further. She knew that if she wanted to refuse, she could, and they would respect her decision, no matter how much it would concern them. However, she couldn't bring herself to do so, nodding to Daemon in acceptance.

~~~~~~~~~

For the majority of her pregnancy, Y/n appeared blessed with easy, healthy milestones. Not to say Y/n didn't have any unpleasant days. She was nauseous toward the beginning and her feet ached when she began to grow round, but the biggest most unpleasant change was her attitude. Daemon and Rhaenyra were not the only ones who noticed Y/n's bite. Servants, maesters, and dragonkeepers alike noticed the change in aggression. It wasn't as though Lady Y/n was violent or unbearable, but if it wasn't for the known fact that she was a Strong, most people of Dragonstone would've initially believed she was born a Targaryen and not just married to one.

Laenor didn't appear to mind this new side of Y/n. In fact, he very much enjoyed it. It was like being back home in Driftmark with his sister, full of spirit and brutally honest.

"Must you always wear that pin?" Y/n sneered as she crossed the gardens to join the Velaryon, holding her stomach as she waddled.

Laenor grinned, standing up to help her into the chair next to him, "My sister gave it to me as a wedding gift. Don't tell me a seahorse makes you nauseous, too."

She groaned as she sat down, "The idea of the sea makes me nauseous."

He hummed in agreement as he settled beside her. They met almost daily in Aegon's Garden so the lady could get fresh air, and more times than not, they would summon Mushroom to entertain them. Today was no different, the fool making his appearance not long after Y/n and going about his newest routine of tricks and mischief.

As the fool performs, Laenor leans into the lady's space, "You're cross. And I doubt it's over my pin. What ails you, good aunt?"

She side-eyes him for the address of her title over him, eyebrows angled in annoyance as she spoke, "Both my husband and your wife have insisted on being with me for the birth."

His eyebrows raise, unsurprised, "And? Are you asking me to join as well?"

"Heavens, no, I wouldn't even play at the idea of you seeing my cunt."

"I appreciate it."

Y/n snorts and smacks his shoulder light-heartedly, "Shut up. I'm just... terrified that something bad will happen and they'll have to... watch the child or me or even both of us die."

"Why must you think about what might happen?"

"Because I'm a realist, Laenor."

The Verlaryon frowns, unconvinced, "You married a prince and secretly planned on carrying his children then passing them off as someone else's. Is that what you would consider being a realist?"

"Don't patronize me. I'm just simply stating that childbirth isn't easy. It's torture. Septas can romanticize it all they want but I wouldn't exactly listen to celibate women who have never borne a child. A wet nurse is likely to tell you the truth and the horrors behind the labors. Many women bleed out, or many of them birth stillborns. I... I've heard rumors of a more recent practice."

"Such as?"

She bites her lip and grows quiet, unsure if she should gossip about what she may or may not have learned. It wasn't a known rumor, and she had mostly heard it between women in the court of King's Landing. But if there was any lord she could trust, aside from her twin brother and her husband, it was Ser Laenor, "Maesters have learned that in order to save the child, they can cut the mother open and pull the infant from her womb. It's not ethical, but the studies show that if they must decide who to save if the threat of losing both is imminent, the maester will turn to the husband to decide."

"That's not even unethical. It's also barbaric!" Laenor exclaims, appalled as rage crosses his features, reminding Y/n that he was half Targaryen as well as Velaryon, "Surely, no one would approve of this method."

"I don't know. All I know is... it's not going to be easy."

"I would suggest raspberry leaf tea."

Both Laenor and Y/n look to the third voice, only to find Mushroom to be the only other person in the gardens. The dwarf fool had since stopped his tomfoolery and just stood there, looking at the pair of them expectedly, head tilted. Both of them looked at him, shocked as if they had forgotten he was there.

Y/n tilted her head back at him, curiosity getting the better of her, "Pardon?"

"Raspberry leaf tea." The dwarf stated confidently, puffing out his chest with pride.

"Perhaps you should properly address the lady before barging into her conversation, jester." Laenor's lips thin out, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the fool.

"It's alright, Ser Laenor." She mocks amusingly at the lord beside her before turning back to Mushroom, addressing the small man sweetly, "Why raspberries?"

"All whores know the ingredients and methods of concocting moon tea. In their line of work, it is essential and necessary." Mushroom flashes a vulpine grin, the corner of his lips stretching from ear to ear, "Not many men would bed a whore with child."

"Get to the point faster, fool." Laenor grumbled, nose scrunched in response to the dwarf's boldness, "I doubt you would talk to his lady wife in this manner if Prince Daemon were here."

"However, there are times moon tea does not work or a whore forgets to even drink it. There are times when children are born and to make the labors bearable, the whores have created a simple concoction, one that makes the birthing easier and sometimes faster. Raspberry leaf tea."

Y/n clung to every single word, awestruck and suspicious all at once, "And this tea does not harm the child?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Laenor stood once he realized that Y/n was actually entertaining the ideas of the fool, "I will speak with the maester to confirm or deny this."

"Thank you, Laenor." She smiled and watched him leave before turning her head back down to the dwarf in front of her, "And thank you, Mushroom."

Bells jingle obnoxiously as Mushroom dips into a bow, overplaying his courtesy with flair, "I am but a humble servant, my lady."

Doubtful but amused, Y/n laughed quietly under her breath, the small noise joining the soft, scented breeze of the garden, "I would hardly describe you as humble if you are to be believed knowledgeable in the methods of whores."

"Perhaps it's humble if I use my knowledge to soften my lady's worries," Mushroom beamed confidently, "After all, it would be a shame if maesters learned how to save the child, but not the mother."

"Well said, my fool."

~~~~~~~~~

Maester Gerardys listened to Laenor's suggestion and then proceeded to intently research before approving the consumption of such tea. He recommended Lady Y/n drink the tea before bed every night, and thus a new nightly routine was born. After such a heavy discussion about the dangers of childbirth, Rhaenyra was visibly relieved when Y/n took to finding solutions and even learned how to make the tea herself to aid her pregnant aunt.

In Mushroom's Testimony, published years down the road, the dwarf stated it was all because of the tea he had recommended to the Mother of Dragons prior to the birth that made the babe slip out so easily. He even spun a small tale about how the tea softened Lady Y/n's womb so much that she had barely noticed she had given birth. Much like a giraffe, Mushroom's tale would have us believe that Y/n had simply gotten up after her child was born and went about her day as if nothing ever happened.

Other scholars who wrote about such historical events did not agree with this, however, despite the fact that Mushroom was the only source to be on Dragonstone when Y/n Strong went into labor. It had been early morning when Y/n awoke in Rhaenyra's chambers, the sun not yet fully rising over the island but the sky was becoming a lovely purple and the stars were disappearing. Daemon had rolled over just as Y/n was trying to rise out of bed, Rhaenyra still unconscious to the world around her on the opposite side of her uncle.

"Careful, wife," Daemon muttered into the pillow, only half awake, "I wouldn't try getting out of bed so fast if I were you."

The responding thud that echoed throughout the room drove Prince Daemon into survival mode, waking every instinct he had as he lunged out of bed to search for Y/n. She had not gone far, having landed on her knees just at the foot of the bed, one hand holding her stomach while the other was placed on the floor below, holding her up.

Chaos erupted that early, quiet morning. Rhaenyra was roused as was the rest of the keep in response to Daemon's demand for the maester and the nurses. When asked, Y/n will look back and have little to no memory of what happened that fateful day. She remembered the labor being quicker than anticipated, given this was her first child, but over time she had forgotten what the pain felt like. Her mind was either not as sharp as it once was or it had purposefully locked away those certain traumatic events.

Needless to say, there were a few small things she remembered that she was able to reiterate in the future when asked. Maester Gerardys had refused to move Y/n from her knees on the floor, stating it was too late to place her in the child bed. The baby was coming quickly and it had barely given anyone enough time to prepare for its arrival. So Lady Y/n was forced to stay where she had landed, but she was not alone. She remembered holding onto Daemon for dear life and he dutifully stood still for her, anchoring her, gripping her arms though not as tight or as fiercely as she held onto him whilst she cried out in pain, resting her sweating forehead on the center of his chest. Rhaenyra had finally joined her as well, pulling her hair out of her face and occasionally rubbing her back and hips. The princess had gratefully taken a pillow from Elinda when she arrived to help and placed the pillow underneath poor Y/n's knees which were already bruised and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.

Daemon's heartbeat and Rhaenyra's gentle voice were all Y/n could remember apart from her screams. That, and the weird shifting of her internal organs as everything moved down with her baby and with gravity. After that, the pain subsided and Y/n remembered taking big, sobbing gulps of air, clinging onto Daemon weakly as every part of her body began to violently shake in exhaustion. Her gasps and cries were the only things echoing in her ears as the whole room bustled about, people scrambling and shouting that Y/n was unaware of. Daemon held her close and eventually demanded the maester that they move her to the bed. Gerardys agreed and by the time Daemon had lifted her into his arms, Y/n's hearing returned, and she realized that she was not the only one crying. Weakly, she turned her head in the direction of the baby's cries as Daemon laid her down over the pillows and blankets.

Nurses and maids were working frantically about the room, but one woman remained perfectly still among the chaos and Y/n instantly recognized her by her silver hair. Rhaenyra was sitting in a nearby chair, smiling widely to the point her cheeks had to hurt, her misty eyes staring down at the bloody, crying babe in her lap as Elinda knelt before the princess to wipe down the infant, not having the heart to take the child from her in order to clean it. Y/n's breath had been stolen again, and her gaze never broke from the infant even as a couple of the maids came around to help clean the blood and grime from her skin. She could briefly recollect Daemon's hand in hers and another gently brushing her hair, remaining dutifully at her side while Rhaenyra attended to the child.

With the babe finally cleaned and swaddled, Rhaenyra carefully lifted it into her arms as she stood up, moving toward the bed where her eyes finally met Y/n's, tear tracks of joy cutting through her flawless face, "A son, my love. Our Little Jace is here."

~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys Velaryon.

Y/n has held babies before, though she might have been too young to remember it, and even then she was smaller. A baby would feel heavy and a lot bigger than they actually were in Young Y/n's arms. But now, fully grown and with her firstborn son in her arms, Y/n was awestruck by how little and fragile he was. He wasn't born early enough to be considered sickly and after fully inspecting him, Maester Gerardys confirmed that the boy was a picture of health and only a little smaller than average. Relieved she had managed to birth a healthy son without much of a risk, Y/n hardly had a care in the world even when she noticed the small tufts of dark, incredibly soft hair her son bore on the top of his little head.

However, the day after his birth, after she had been rested and Laenor was able to meet his son for the first time, Y/n spoke of the future with a shadow over her eyes, "On my wedding day, you said we would cross that bridge should our baby have dark hair."

Rhaenyra looked up from watching Laenor gently rocked Jace in his arms as he slowly traveled around the room, whispering softly to the sleeping baby. Y/n was sitting comfortably in a chair by the window and meets her princess' eyes, expression blank as she continued, "Well, he does. So how do you propose we convince the world that he's yours and Ser Laenor's child?"

"Laenor's grandmother was a Baratheon. She had dark hair." Rhaenyra comments hopefully.

The dark-haired woman shook her head in response, "It won't matter. You know as well as I that the lords of the realm won't see reason in that. They only need one reason, however small, to proclaim you as an unfit heir to the throne."

"We have a fail-safe."

"Which is...?"

Daemon, still watching Laenor and Jacaerys like a hawk, spoke in regards to Y/n's question, "We let the kingdoms whisper."

"Daemon," Rhaenyra chided him, the prince shrugging without a care. His niece sighs, turning back to Y/n with a sheepish expression, "It's only half true. We let them whisper, but we misdirect them. In the public eye, I am Jace's legitimate mother. That will be indisputable. No one could deny that. But his father... it would have to be someone close to you in appearance. Someone who would do anything for you and for the crown. Someone we trust."

Y/n was no fool, but disbelief can be a bitch and it was disbelief that drove Y/n to slowly come to the realization behind Rhaenyra's words. There is a clear, hidden meaning behind how she had phrased this mystery man and Y/n wanted to outright deny it at first before she caught sight of Daemon staring at her expectedly. He trusted her to come to the same conclusion on her own and she did, albeit with a dry throat, "... My brother?"

"Yes. Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra nodded.

A flash of hurt appeared and then quickly vanished over her eyes as she looked between her two lovers, "Why was I not informed about this?"

"Because we knew you wouldn't want your brother to risk himself."

"And yet you still went through with your original plans?"

"Yes, because we also knew that your brother would do anything to protect you," Rhaenyra crossed the room, kneeling down to Y/n and clasping her hands, "He's loyal to Daemon as a soldier of the City Watch, he's loyal to me as the future Queen of Westeros and most importantly he's loyal to you as his sister. He's the perfect ally to have in King's Landing while we establish our family here on Dragonstone."

"And... and he knows about our arrangement? He's aware of all of this?"

"Yes."

A decision is made in Y/n's mind and it physically shows over her facial features, the uncertainty melting into one of petulant acceptance as she gently but firmly pulls her hands out of Rhaenyra's to take a cup of tea from the table beside her, "Next time you do something behind my back that would make me look like a fool, just don't tell me."

Unbeknownst to her, Y/n's lovers will take that promise to heart in the far future.

~~~~~~~~~

Rhaenyra writes to her father first, officially announcing the birth of her and Laenor's firstborn son. Daemon waits a few days after Rhaenyra's raven has gone before he writes a letter to Ser Harwin, inviting him to Dragonstone to visit with his sister. The prince also implied that he would like to have a soldier he could trust to be here while his niece and Ser Laenor adjust to parenthood. He had added this in case the letter was ever intercepted and considered suspicious, in case someone clever knew how to fit the missing pieces of the puzzle. King Viserys' response was joyful, congratulating his daughter and practically begging her to bring his first grandchild to King's Landing when she and the baby are well enough. Following Viserys' letter was another from the capital, announcing Ser Harwin's departure and expected arrival at House Targaryen's ancestral home.

After the letter had been received, Y/n would often find herself in the Sea Dragon Tower, usually in Laenor's chambers, overlooking the sea and waiting for a ship that would likely have her brother on board. Laenor didn't mind the intrusion as long as Y/n brought Jace with her-- or so he claimed. Despite the feigned annoyance, he always made sure Y/n had the chair with the most cushion to be seated at the window and would summon a wet nurse if his good aunt appeared not to have the strength to feed the babe herself. He secretly didn't despise her little visits if it meant getting to know the baby meant to portray as his son. The knighted Velaryon was already full of love for this child, despite the fact he didn't sire him. Nevertheless, he couldn't wait to introduce the boy to his parents and sister.

During one of these visits, Y/n finally spotted distant sails floating toward the island, her heart leaping for joy as she got to her feet, proclaiming her brother's arrival. Laenor had laughed and urged her to take it easy and not exert herself. With the babe in one arm, he offered the other to Y/n, which she took and together they brought Jace down to the gardens where Y/n was to anxiously wait for her twin. Laenor handed Jace over to his birth mother once she had been seated and for extra measure, kissed the babe's forehead and wished Y/n luck before retreating. Y/n spent the time cooing softly to her infant as she waited, trying not to feed the urge to get up and meet her brother halfway up the stairs leading to the keep. She doesn't have to wait long before she heard someone enter the garden. When she quickly looked up, she found Ser Harwin Breakbones, the same man she remembered leaving behind in King's Landing. Only at the sight of him did she finally stand, babe in arms, and scrutiny on her tongue.

"You fool. You stupid, loyal fool."

Harwin laughs joyfully, "Hello to you, too, sweet sister."

"Shut up."

He rushes forward and brings Y/n into a hug, being as gentle as possible with the baby between them. Y/n melted into the embrace, taking the time to breathe in that familiar scent of home and family before the twins slowly pull away. Harwin beams down at the infant in his sister's arms, "I take it that this is what you were referring to when you mentioned an impossible task. I don't know about you, Y/n, but this looks as though you know how to make the impossible possible. He's a handsome one. What do you call him?"

Her smile is infectious as she lifts her son up higher for his uncle to see him, "We named him Jacaerys. Jace for short."

"Jace," Harwin removed his leather glove and gently placed his bare hand over the top of the boy's head, marveling at how it easily fit into his palm, "Strapping young lad."

"Yes... he already has a dragon."

"Are you fibbing?"

"No, I swear!" Her eyes sparkled in awe as she relayed the story to him, "The egg hatched in his crib a few nights ago. Until Jace is old enough to tame it, it will be under close watch."

The amazement and possibly terror lingers for a moment before Harwin's gaze softens to one of worry, "Y/n... tell me how you are."

She tilts her head, "How do you mean?"

"Are they treating you well? Are you cared for? You can tell me the truth. If they treat you poorly, just say the word and I'll bring you and the boy to Harrenhal. You'll never have to--"

"Harwin." Y/n laughs quietly under her breath, holding Jace in one arm while she takes a hand to gently pat Ser Breakbones' cheek, smiling fondly, "I love you, brother, but you truly are a fool. Even if I was treated unfairly, you cannot protect me from dragons, especially not at Harrenhal of all places. But I'm happy to inform you that that would never be the case. Daemon loves me, as does Rhaenyra. They could never harm me."

She sits down on a garden bench and invites her brother to follow, "How did they come about asking for your aid?"

"Originally, they didn't think I would need to take part in this web they intend to spin," Harwin explained, "Prince Daemon assured me that he would only send a letter if your child was born looking more like a Strong than a Targaryen."

Y/n nods automatically, "Daemon is playing his part well, pretending to be Jace's uncle... though he tries keeping his distance."

She had been staring sadly down at the bundle in her arms, drawing Harwin to a worrying conclusion, "Do you think your husband despises the fact Jace does not look Targaryen?"

"No. At least-- I don't think so." She shook her head, unsure, "I want to believe that he's slowly realizing just how hard this whole situation is going to be for us carrying Laenor and Rhaenyra's children. Once Jace and any siblings he might have start growing, Daemon and I will have to stop parenting them and start pretending to be their aunt and uncle. Knowing my husband, he's probably thinking that when that day comes, it will hurt less if he started keeping his distance now rather than later."

Harwin nods in acknowledgment, believing he understood what his sister meant, "Prince Daemon has always struggled with arranged marriages--"

"I may have been an arranged wife to him at the beginning, Harwin, but that is no longer the case." She reminds him, "As I said, Daemon and Rhaenyra grew to love me and I grew to love them in return. That's likely when Daemon realized that this arrangement was going to be hard, knowing he couldn't openly love our children when they get older."

"I understand." He decides to change the subject, leaning over to gently stroke Jace's little face with a single finger, "What is to be done with the King?"

A different kind of shadow falls over Y/n's face, "Rhaenyra and Laenor will fly to King's Landing with Jace and his hatchling."

Harwin peered up, eyebrows raised, "And you agreed to this?"

"My son is a Targaryen, no matter who he was born to. The King's own mother would fly on her dragon's back when both of her sons were infants. While they're gone, Daemon suggests I try flying with him."

"Y/n..."

"I am Daemon's wife. I've never heard of a dragon harming his rider's wife."

"Still, I have seen you grow ill from tall heights and unsteady ground."

Y/n scoffs when she catches the mockery in his voice, nudging him with her elbow, "You embarrass me, brother... Daemon and Rhaenyra call me the Mother of Dragons. I should probably learn to fly with my children someday, don't you think?"

~~~~~~~~~

Harwin stayed in Dragonstone for a full moon cycle before planning his return to King's Landing per his father's summons. With the Hand's request also came the King's, begging his daughter to bring her son to him as soon as possible. Rhaenyra had prolonged this enough and announced it was time for her and Laenor to present the babe to the King's court. They would wait until Ser Harwin had returned to King's Landing, then they would follow on dragonback. The morning came for the heir of Harrenhal to disembark once again, and so Y/n stood on the docks of Dragonstone with her son in her arms in order to watch him leave.

Harwin smiled while placing his hand on Jace's head once more, "It won't be such a tiresome journey knowing that I'll be seeing you again in the capital soon. You behave for your mother in the meantime."

The strong knight then leaned over and kissed the top of Y/n's head, "As for you. Promise you'll write to me. As much as you can."

"Until my wrist falls off," she promised, "Give Father and Larys my love. Tell them I miss them."

"I will. Until next time, Mother of Dragons."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Kofi account here. Please support if you can!

Next chapter will have time skips. As I said, I will be taking a break from this series after all the frustration I went through just to post it. Please support my kofi and other fics. If you want to check out other fics that are not Game of Thrones related, my ao3 is Po_ta_toes, thank you!

Enjoy an edit I made of our favorite OT3!

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