#this one is from two weeks ago and you should at least watch the chained together part (if not the whole thing)

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

CHAINS OF BONES: Dark!GOD aemond x reader fic (SNIPPET!!!!! TO CELEBRATE MY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSAY)

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES. (Blood licking for this chapter) Blood drinking too...(where is this going???)

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:6816 SWEET GODS keep in mind this is just the snippet I knew it was bad but that it was this bad omg loooord how big is this chapter gonna be omg omg.

AHUM.

READER/PETAL/UNKNOWN FIRST NAME.

You slept more than you allowed yourself to. You blame your lack of training at first, but with a bed that soft, that big, and that warm anyone could fall asleep. You stare at the ceiling, where dragons look back to you. The diamond chandeliers shimmer peacefully and you hate all of it. He put so much effort into this room for you. You can save a hungry family with one of those chandeliers. You don’t deserve any of it. It reminds you of the nights you spent on the street, in the cold, begging for food to selfish strangers who all feared they would end up like you; an unwanted orphan.

You are overwhelmed. Absolutely overwhelmed. Your senses are tested, your skin is burning and aching and you are close to crying. You slap yourself. You need to pull it together. Now. You rise from the bed, instantly regretting it the moment you are actually on your feet. Your feet hurt. You hiss, ignoring your own pain as you walk to the vanity. There must be something here. Some cream, some lotion…Anything. To get rid of your…

“Bloody horns.” You don’t care that he’s King of the Underworld, if Aemond had something to do with those horns growing out of your necklace, and into your own damn skin, he will be suffering.You pass by the large balcony and are taken back by the fact that you are watching a sunrise. A sunrise in the Underworld. It takes your breath away. The light, the way the entire room fills with sunshine is almost magical. 

‘’Ahum, do you wish me to close the curtains, my Queen?’’ You should be used to people sneaking up to you by now, but no, you aren’t. You turn around, facing a girl around your own age, wearing a black servant gown. You don’t trust her. The memory of the witch who tried to kill you is all too fresh in your mind.

You reach for anything that can serve you as a deadly weapon. Can you even kill undead people? You will find out, you suppose… “I am so sorry for startling you, my Queen.” Lies, likely. Lies and deceit. You grab the perfume bottle, ready to smash it on her head.

She holds up her arms. “I am Ann. Your handmaiden.” She tells you, when slowly lowering your perfume bottle. “His grace assigned me about two weeks ago. He wants to make sure you are content, your Grace.”  Content? There are horns growing out of your body! You do hear something interesting. The kidnapping was planned at least two weeks ago. So he planned this quite for a bit.

Ann grabs the small, golden hairbrush with sapphires. You roll your eyes at the expensive, excessive and unneeded fancy brush. “Shall I brush your hair? Perhaps you'd like to have a nice bath? I can prepare it for you.” She says. You don’t trust her just yet, but do agree on following her to the bathroom. You rip one of the lights on the wall, taking a sharp diamond with you in case you need it. 

You follow her into the lavious bathroom, another insane monstrosity. There are mirrors covering the walls, golden tiles under your feet and the tiles have letters written in them. You can clearly spot an A. A golden, A curved into the stones. You deliberately shove your feet over the A, trying to erase it. 

‘’Your highness?’’ Ann’s voice makes you realize you must look silly. You watch Ann, prepare your bath by filling a golden bathtub big enough to fit two people with water. The water comes from a demonic statue in the corner, and seems to be hot right away. Dark magic, no doubt. “Roses or lavender, my Queen?” She asks as she takes two bottles of leaves from a cabinet you didn’t even notice. She knows where everything is. 

You bathed before, of course. Just not with roses or lavender. Just with water and a bar of soap that grew smaller every time.  “Roses are fine.” You say, not paying too much mind to it. Lavender has such a strong scent, roses are more subtle.

“May I help you?” She asks, gesturing to the Nightgown that Aemond put you in. You nod, putting the diamond aside. She looks at it, a little distraught. You put your arms up, allowing her to undress you and to do her job. 

She helps you into the warm but nice water. She begins to brush your hair. “Do you like it here, my Queen?’’ She asks, gently brushing your hairs as you eye a golden bath duck with sapphires for its eyes. You don’t. You were captured here and you don’t like how pretentious Aemond is, nor how he sometimes loses control of his own powers. You will be looking to escape. But you can’t tell Ann that. She will tell Aemond, likely.

So you lie, crawling into the skin of someone else, pretending to care about golden bathtubs and diamonds. ‘’It’s such a dreaming life. I never suspected it would be happening.’’ Sometimes the best lie is just the truth. You did not expect it to be happening, and you did not expect to ever meet Aemond at all. Life would have been perfect, had he stayed far, far away in fact.

Ann chuckles, softly. ‘’I can imagine, my Queen. My mother always told me that destiny is something that we least expect. Like, how a man had the destiny to become rich. He kept waiting for riches but he took his wife, his children and his health for granted. He already was rich, in a way.’’

Her words nestle inside your brain, working their magic. You sit up, considering her words. Dread fills your chest as you glance at your own reflection, staring at your new horns. What if she’s right? What if this is your destiny? What if somehow, Aemond is right about all this? ‘’Interesting.’’ You comment, enjoying the warm water and the scent of roses.

Ann stops brushing your hair, looking flushed and embarrassed. ‘’I shouldn’t bore you with senseless stories. I am sorry, my Queen.’’ She says.

You chuckle, but roll your eyes. The way she addresses you is obviously Aemond’s doing. You want Ann to treat you as a normal being.  ‘’You should stop with the ‘’My Queen’’ thing. It makes me uncomfortable.’’ You tell her, and you steal the brush from her and give your scalp a good scratching with it. You groan, as your horns interfere with most of that idea. 

Ann is a beautiful young lady and could easily impress many people, but her eyes have become as big as a bunny who is facing the huntsman. You scared her. ‘’His grace said I wasn’t supposed to address you in any other way.’’ Ann confesses, her voice small. ‘’I don’t know what to do now. The King wants you to feel at home here, and I should obey your every command. But his command was to address you properly. I feel conflicted, truth be told, your Highness.’’ You understand she is terrified of Aemond. Who wouldn’t be, in truth? You hear a soft sniffle. You sit up, reaching for Ann’s hands. You feel horrible for making her cry.

You won’t tell Aemond anything. He doesn’t deserve to know after all he did to you. And besides, even in the best marriages there are secrets. You scoff a bit at your own poor joke. Marriage. To him.‘’I won’t tell the King. You can address me how you like. I am sorry for upsetting you.’’ You say. Ann looks up, her eyes puffy. 

You hope you made it a bit better.

But you only made it so far worse.

Ann snaps, throwing the brush on the tiles in frustration, tears bursting from her eyes as she falls to the ground, hugging her knees. Shocked, you try to get to her, awkwardly hanging half out of the bathtub. ‘’You shouldn’t feel bad! Not over me or my feelings!’’ The way she talks scares you. It is terrifying. You stare at this poor, tortured and tormented soul. Ann sighs, continuing. ‘’You shouldn’t be bothered about me at all. I am just a mere servant, you, you are the Queen. You should worry about other things-’’ You stop her rambling, instantly grabbing her hands, this time you manage to hold them, without slipping on the painful marble floors.

‘’Who should a Queen care for, if not her people?’’ You ask, genuinely. Not that you see yourself as a Queen. Ann smiles through her tears. You smile back, carefully. Ann returns to brushing your hair, now much more comfortable and less stiff around your presence. 

She clears her throat, embarrassed. She shouldn't be. She is under a lot of pressure. Perhaps you can find some way to lighten her burdens. Make her happier before leaving the castle. Or she can come with you.  ‘’Me and the servants heard rumours. Is it true the King gave you thousand roses and had a gilded carriage with seven unicorns all in a different colour to bring you here?’’ 

You wonder if the roses aren't secretly enchanted to cause hallucinations. Unicorns? Roses? Gifts? A carriage? Also, you didn't know Unicorns exist? 

You recall a hole in the ground, and darkness. But you decide to humor her and feed the propaganda Aemond spoonfed her. If she corrects him one day, it could cost her her head. ‘’No, there were eight unicorns and two dancing polar bears.’’ You say, making the lie even less believable. Ann nods, however, buying it, to her it's the ultimate love gesture.

She sighs, dreamily. ‘’I wish someone would do all this for me. The King must love you so deeply. I shouldn’t mention, but I noticed, he seems…different since your arrival.’’ You frown. Different how?

‘’Did he get rid of that stick up his ass?’’ You ask. Ann gasps, laughing but hides her laugh behind her hands. She shakes her head, smiling as she tries her best to summarize it.

‘’Changes are happening. Let’s leave it at that.’’ What kind of changes, you wonder.

A cloud of roses appears, signaling Aemond’s dramatic arrival. You roll your eyes, sighing deeply as Aemond takes his sweet time appearing in front of you, roses surrounding him as he spawns. You look beside the bathtub for Ann, and are shocked to find her kneeling on the floor, for Aemond. You feel horrified. 

There is kneeling and there is whatever Ann is doing. You assumed a curtsy would be enough to please his ego. But no. She is covering the floor, making herself as lowly as possible. It's dehumanising in any way and you want her to stand up right away.

Aemond smiles at you, admiring your naked body.  “Ah. There is my beautiful wife.” He claps his hands and the candles surrounding the bathtub light up, spreading a gentle rose scent. You cover your chest with your arms. He left you here. Where did he expect you to find, somewhere with another one of his skeletons that wants to kill you?

Ann returns to brushing your hair, but can barely reach it from this angle. She keeps her eyes on Aemond at all cost. She fears him, clearly. But luckily he pays her no mind. It's like she doesn't exist to him at all. A shadow haunting a castle. You realize, she doesn’t exist for him. He sees her as a servant. A tool to dispose of when she’s no longer useful. You shudder at that thought, horrified and sick to your stomach.

His thin and gentle smile dies. He stares at you full of disbelief as if you challenged him. “Is that needed? I've seen your beautiful body two times before.’’ He has. You won't do his bidding until he tells you the truth. You want to know why you have horns now and what you are doing here.

“It's a matter of consent.” You say.

You expect him to throw a tantrum or to kill Ann for revenge or just drown you in the golden tub.  But he does something else. “Ah,” he says nodding as he turns around granting you your privacy at long last. “Tell me when I can gaze upon the most beautiful creature that ever graced my presence, yes?” You wonder if he's truly in love. If he is pretending he puts too much effort into his act. But the way that he's so silly and so awkward around you almost confirms it to you that he is not acting. 

You roll your eyes now his back is turned. Ann gently smiles too, helping you in a soft robe.

“When I'm dressed.” You announce, making your way to the bedroom with Ann.

You can hear him scoffing from afar. “Hah.” He comments but he does not turn around at all nor tries to steal peeks from the mirror walls. He remains where he stands, arms crossed but faithful to your command. 

Ann escorts you to a chair, makes sure you sit comfortably and goes off to fetch you a dress and underwear. You wait patiently and see her return with a dark red sleeveless poofy gown that could easily save your life should you decide to jump down the balcony. It would protect you from the fall. 

It's a walking statement. A walking attention catcher. It's a beautiful dress but you don't feel beautiful. You fear it'll look ugly on you. So you hate it. It's safer to hate the unknown than to try it. 

Ann smiles, twirling it, making it only worse as she presents it to you as a proud mother, offering her daughter her wedding dress. “I…don't we have something less extravagant?” You ask. Ann drops the ball gown, staring as if she too sees it for the first time now. She gives a soft, almost shadow of a nod, that vanishes when Aemond comes over. He gives her an obvious glare, and you can see her tremble. 

It was his choice, clearly.

Not Ann's.

The poor girl shakes, before vanishing off to the closet, getting another dress. This one is green and she looks now directly to Aemond for his approval, rather than your own. ‘’This is the dress you approved for the dinner, my King. But maybe her g-grace could wear it now?’’ You laugh, uncomfortable.

You turn to Aemond, knowing he will do anything to make you feel at home. Ann said so.. “I'm used to wearing pants.” You admit. “Easier to move around in and fight in if need be. And I look much better in pants than in a poofy dress.” You nod to the dress, allowing him to use his demonic powers on it.

Aemond nods and smiles but doesn't do anything. “Mhm.” He says, instead of turning the dress into a hope of ashes like you had hoped.  “You'll adjust. I'm certain of it.” He looks at your horns full of admiration and excitement. 

His answer is infuriating on its own but that he looks at you so patronizing that makes your blood really boil. “I think you misunderstand me.” You say, trying to be civil and the bigger person. You don't want to wear this monstrosity. You don't want to wear dresses. You aren't even sure how to sit in this thing or how to walk in it. You'd only trip and make a fool of yourself.

The king of the underworld lets out the most boyish annoyed groan, as a little boy being told he can't have another stuffed animal. “Petal, don't be difficult. Let me rephrase…I think you clearly have issues.” Your brows raise so far you are convinced they are in your hair. You? You are the one with the issues? 

“Me?” You must have heard wrong. 

He nods, solely as if he regrets it deeply. “You have never been in a ballgown before. You feel guilty and shy. But there's truly no need for it, my love. You'll look so beautiful,” his lips curl into an unintended smile picturing it. “This dress was made for you. The seamstress worked days on it. I didn't even allow her to rest. Luckily there was someone present to wake her up with cold water whenever she passed out. ” He tells you with a sweet smile. He laughs, warmly, thinking hearing such an awful thing will make you overjoyed. ‘’You see, that’s how much I care for you, my love. Everything, from your toes to your beautiful horns, it all needs to be perfect. I won’t tolerate anything less.’’

He thinks you are just being reassured but unaware he gave you again crucial information. He had a dress made for you, by what sounds like someone human. Judging the skirt and the details on the dress, that too had taken quite a while. You never made anything before so you wouldn't know just how long, but that it took that poor woman long you can understand. Days, Aemond said. But you doubt that. Weeks, likely. Months, perhaps.

You try your best to hide your disgust. You must charm him somehow. “I just think pants are practical. If I need to run-” 

There is an audible gasp from Ann followed by the uttering deafening silence. Aemond nods, almost to himself, faking a smile when he slowly gets in front of you again. He crosses his arms and you focus on the bone crown on his head to avoid staring at his eye. That one, beautiful eye that is judging you, berating you and even hating you for what you just dared to mutter. That you are in fact not here to stay.

The candles stop burning one by one. You hear rattling chandeliers and the sun disappears outside the castle. Outside clouds gather, and thunder rumbles. He does not raise his voice or shout at you. But truth be told, he doesn’t have to. He is terrifying all on his own, simply by existing. “Why would you need to run?” He must be lying about his band with you. His soulmate is someone else you are certain of. Whatever reason Aemond has to keep you here, it has nothing to do with love. You can't imagine yourself being that important.

Deceit comes naturally to you. But not now. Not in front of him. When you need it, it fails you.  “I…an example.” He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly, clearly noticing you lied. He takes your hands into his own, muttering Valyrian words. You don't know what he's doing but you are afraid. You watch Ann, worried he'll hurt her.

When he talks he becomes the King again and you are nothing but a mortal girl at his mercy. He scolds you as if he is talking to a child. “We talked about this. You are not going anywhere. You are my Queen and my love. You are right where you belong. The only running your legs will be doing is when I allow it.”  He chuckles, clearly nervous. He pretends to care what you think of him. He pretends like he doesn’t want to scare you away.

You cross your arms, annoyed by the turn of the conversation. “Can we talk about the horns sticking out of my neck and forehead now?’’

Aemond looks at your horns, as if seeing them just now. He smirks, and his smirk tells you all you need to know. It's the smirk of a satisfied child that got his way. Again. He did this to you. “Mhm. I thought there was something different about you.” He chuckles delighted at his own joke. You are tempted to hit him, but instead you just groan under your breath.

You can't break the necklace. So you doubt you can break the horns. Maybe you can tear them from your skin. But you won't risk it. 

The way you looked must have been miserable because Aemond grabs your hands, feeling your burned and damaged skin, instantly kissing your fingers and surprising you with a soft, gentle kiss that heals your burned fingers. You stare at his lips, confused. “It's nothing serious. When a wife and a husband wed, she takes his cloak. You know this. See this, little bit of …decoration as my cloak. The world will tremble and gawk. You simply are wearing your husband's cloak instead of your maiden one.” You didn't consent to any marriage and you sure aren't wearing a cloak let alone horns.

“Can you undo it?” You ask, instantly.

He avoids eye contact for a moment, clearly hurt by your words. Then he pretends he's fine again. He chuckles once more, much shallower than the first time.

 “Yes, but why would I? Like I said; it's incredibly romantic.” He kisses your neck, careful to mind the new horns. “You look so beautiful with it. You look ravishing, my love.” 

You don't. You never looked ravishing. You never felt uglier than now. Being an orphan, people had enough to say to you. Now, with horns and a god king for a husband, what will they say now? And how will you wield words that will root deep inside of your soul, eating away your so rare confidence? You are strong, but not invincible. “What will people say when they see me with horns?” You whisper, horrified. You look into the mirror. 

Aemond grabs you tighter forcing you to meet your image. Forcing you to accept this horrible truth. “They won't even glance at you. Every tongue that dares to insult you, I will cut from their mouths. No one insults my Queen. They won't laugh. They won't point. They will stand up for you and they will bow until their knees break.” You try to imagine it. Crowds of people falling to their knees for you. You, wearing crowns decorated with bones and everyone who ever challenged you, on their knees in the dirt, bowing down for you.

There's a soft kiss on your head that awakens you from the daydream. “It's alright to like it, my little Petal. Remember that.” he whispers, reminding you of how good he can make you feel. You recall how whole you felt when he was inside of you, and need to remind yourself too of the burns and scars he gave you. How he keeps burning you somehow. Maybe he likes hurting you. Some people get turned on by it. But you aren't sure yet if Aemond is one of those people.

You hear his words again. ‘’It’s alright to like it.’’ What if he did not refer to the times you two have been together, but something else? Something so much darker, so much worse? You see him smile, as a proud boyfriend who just taught you how to do something terrible. You realize what the horns mean. Aemond didn’t do anything. You did it. By corrupting your soul.  

“You did well, last night.” He adds, unaware of your realisation..He takes a look at the places he kissed last night when you two made love. He gently touches your burned skin, by your lips and your neck.  “Come love. It's time I healed you.” He announces, taking you by the hand.

But that comes too soon after your horrifying realization.

“Why am I truly here?’ you ask, breaking free. He freezes and turns around, caught in his lie. He quickly smiles.

He makes himself a bit taller, adjusting his posture. “I want to heal you.” He says with that  little oh so scared chuckle. You rip yourself free, not listening anymore. He is not touching you until he tells you what he’s hiding or when you are finally home again.

“No. You wont get your way until you tell me all there is.” You say. The King laughs, as his pupil darkens. You try not to be afraid, but the truth is that is easier said than done. With one snap of his little finger he can break your neck, you are certain of that.

His soft but rough voice softly rings out. “I don't think you understand how things work.” He bends his fingers slightly, as if making claws. At his command, your necklace begins to close tighter around your throat, slightly choking you.  “I will heal you.”

You gasp for air as Ann rushes out of her hiding spot, her eyes full of worry. She does not help you, however. You don’t blame her. “You can after you tell me the truth.” You manage to croak out to Aemond. ‘’You can heal me, just…tell me.’’ 

He only laughs harder, choking you to the point where your vision blurs. 

“Don't be difficult now, Petal. I would have preferred making you breathless another way, but I will keep you close. I can’t afford losing you.’’

Ann steps in front of you, protecting you. “My king, her royal highness, the Queen hasn't eaten anything yet. Mayhaps we should let her eat a bit, and you can heal her after? Women are known to be frustrated easily if not well fed.” She tries to laugh it off but she is afraid. She knows who she is defying. For you of all people.

Ann actually stood up for you. It is a clear attempt to give you some time alone, away from Aemond and his desires. He stares at you, giving you finally more space to breathe and releases you.

You gasp for air, eagerly filling your lungs. But he does not stop. He simply switches targets. He picks up Ann now, holding her in the air and choking her, much harder than he ever choked you. “Do not make me turn you into a pile of ashes. I entrust you with my most valuable possession but I won't hesitate to kill you.” He warns her, his voice becoming darker and rougher.

“My king, forgive me! I meant no offense!” Ann begins to cry, struggling to say anything else.

He growls. ‘’Yet you do. You dared to question my authority and dared to order me around! I am not your dog, I am your King, your God! She is mine and mine to do with as I please-’’ That is enough for you. You run in his direction, surprising him. You jump on top of him, tackling him to the ground. His hands stop the spell, interrupted. You pin him to the floors and stare into his eye, heavily breathing because of the adrenaline.

‘’Do not hurt Ann.’’You tell him, warning him. ‘’You want me to give you a chance and all of this madness? Stop killing people and stop treating me like your whore. You have one chance. I don’t care that you are immortal, I will find a way to kill you, Aemond.’’ 

“One day around you and she thinks she can order me around like I'm a dog!” He rages, but calms when he notices your hands on his clothed chest. Your hands feel the familiar hole that sits right by where his heart would be. 

Ann shakes her head, falling to her knees. “No, your grace, please, my good King! No I didn't. I only had your best interest in mind. The servants know of her Grace's…” You curse as it all makes sense. You get off from Aemond. He remains on the floor, perfectly fine and even puts his arms behind his head, enjoying the show that is about to unfold. He even dares to adjust himself, so he is more comfortable.

Ann never cared about you not having eaten.

His eye is following you around, clearly lusting and feeding on your darkness as you approach Ann. “Of what?” You ask, just to clarify. 

She shakes as a leaf. But you need to know this truth. You had fears and you want to know if you were right. The darkest fear of all. That you could be with child. His child. “That you and the King consummated your marriage earlier.” You turn your head to Aemond. A consummation would make any marriage legal and binding. Did he truly lie to you? Are you two married, in some secret demon pact? Is that why he took you so quickly?

Aemond rises from the ground, not paying much attention to his surroundings and ends up on a low hanging shelf with bottles. “It is true me and the Queen were…overcome with emotions,’’ You scratch your head, staring at the ground. You scoff, tears stinging. He played you.  He lied to you. He married you. If he truly felt anything for you, he wouldn’t have done that. He would have been honest. About at least something. 

Aemond’s words were first addressed to Ann, but they changed target. His voice becomes softer as his hands glide into your own, and you notice he somehow clings to you. As if you can save him. ‘’- but I want to wed her in a proper ceremony with proper guests and attire. She should be crowned for all to see. She deserves a wonderful wedding and that's what she'll get. No, we didn't consummate our marriage. We aren’t married, just yet.’’ You feel relief. But that doesn’t answer your other question. “But we did have a special time getting to know one another.” Aemond adds, making the story more spectaculair than it needs to be. You roll your eyes.

Ann chuckles, still terrified but carefully tries to make conversation to avoid your anger or Aemond's. “The dancing polar bears must have been quite the view.” she says, remembering the lies you told her.

You see Aemond's good eye narrow in confusion. “The what?”

She stares at the two of you. “I don't judge, my Queen, my King. I simply wanted the Queen fed in case there's…Something inside her belly.” You glare at Aemond, asking him directly with your emotions and eyes if he knows that you are with child. He turns his head away.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, clearly avoiding you at all costs suddenly. “That's quite the disturbing thought process.” He says. ‘’I think you should take your leave. Me and the Queen need to talk.’’ Ann makes a curtsy and leaves quickly after Aemond orders her, likely very happy to be granted leave at all.

He smirks as she leaves. ‘’I had no idea there was such a feisty side to that girl. The way she stood up for you, I never imagined in a million years that humans were capable of that. She is a interesting pet, don’t you agree?’’

You aren’t sure what you feel stirring up. Is it disgust or jealousy? “She's a person not your pet.” you bite out offended regardless. To your surprise, to your horror even, you added something you had no control over. An arm that tries to hit the King of the Underworld. You gasp as Aemond captures your arm quickly, smirking broadly as he leans in, caressing your face with his long blood red and white nails.

You stare at your arms, shocked and confused. Why did you do that? ‘’There is no need to be jealous, my Queen. You think I’m interested in her, when I have you, right where I want you?’’ He presses his nose to your own, kissing your lips when softly nibbling on your under lip. You hear him exhale deeply, and you taste your own blood. He bit you. He kisses deeper and longer, tasting your blood. It should feel so bad, but it feels so good. You should hate every touch, every kiss but you only seem to want more and more of him. You need to stop him.

You break the kiss.

‘’You should stop pestering Ann.’’ 

He grins, but doesn’t nod or agree. “She made you uncomfortable.” He responds, grabbing you by your hips. He stares into your eyes again, slowly opening your bathrobe. ‘’It’s a crime that you tried to hide all of this from my eyes. You should be punished.’’ He whispers, staring at your naked body. You try to fight your desires for him. 

She only tried to stop someone from getting choked. “She means well. She wants the best for me and for you.” Or for the innocent unborn child she thought you were carrying around.

He rolls his eye, annoyed at you bringing up Ann when he is clearly trying to seduce you.

“All based on one conversation. And you are not with child. Not mine, not anyone's. ’’ He sighs dramatically. ‘’May I now heal you?’’ He's impatient.  You stare at your burned finger tops that you burned when touching him. 

‘’Can you at least tell me how to avoid burning myself in the future?’’ You would like to know that. There must be some way to stop yourself from burning your skin. 

‘’You can’t, Petal.’’ His answer shocks and surprises you. You thought he had something to protect you from it. ‘’I apologize.’’ He adds, in a tone unlike himself. He truly regrets that he can't tell you another answer. He regrets it. ‘’I can heal you.’’ He adds. “But I can't teach you how to become immune. Nor can I cast spells that protect you against my own magic. It would not work.”

You decide to humor him. Your burns hurt and so do your bruises. You might seduce him into taking your horns away again. You nod, handing yourself over. Aemond deeply exhales, sensing your surrender and he grins as his pupil slightly widens, and briefly dark shadows dance around his fingertips. 

‘’Lay on the bed.’’ He says. You raise a brow, but obey, skeptical. ‘’And get rid of the robe.’’ You do what he asks. Aemond joins you on the bed, having used his dark powers to appear right next to you, startling you. He looks at your burned fingertips, softly brushing them with his own. He begins to softly kiss your fingertips. You watch, as your skin heals right before your eyes. He is truly powerful, healing burned ruined skin with his own well mouth. 

Aemond sadly only appears to use his powers for bad things. But this proves he can do great things. He could heal wounds and cure the sick. If only he wanted.

Aemond moves on to your legs, which he also injured when taking you. Scratches and bruises and even small cuts are healed when he kisses your legs, softly caressing your legs. You are trying your best to remain stubbornly in a stiff position, but Aemond simply flips you over, reaching your belly and kissing your neck, healing the sensitive skin where your horns and necklace crawled inside of. You try to suppress a moan and a curse as he begins to suck there too, making the pain go away briefly and replace it with an addictive sharp and powerful delicious feeling. ‘’Inflicting the pain can be fun, but so can be the aftercare.’’ You hear him whisper in your ear, as his fingers softly tap against your legs. ‘’I want you to understand that if we are to lay together more oftenly, this too will happen more often. I don’t want you walking around my castle with burns and scars. Not when I can so easily take your pain away.’’ 

You allow him to kiss and heal you, wondering how the same lips that did you so much pain now bring you pleasure and healing. ‘’I thought you liked it when I wore the scars?’’ You refer to the bones sticking out of your body. The horns and the necklace.

He pauses, caught off guard. His voice is a rough but quiet groan. ‘’No. I don’t.’’ 

He moves on to your belly, kissing your stomach lovingly as he takes in your breasts likely already picturing himself closer to you. But before he even touches your breasts, he kisses your forehead, healing the sensitive skin, staring in your eyes.

He then leans over your chest and begins.

He cools the burned flesh when softly sucking on your tit, causing you to feel conflicting emotions. He grins as you begin to turn your head away to avoid looking into his eyes or seeing your breast into his mouth. “Do you like your handmaiden? Is she kind and does she address you properly?” Ann is perfect. But why did he get you a handmaiden? Is she to assist and help you look pretty or is she just a way for Aemond to watch and control you?

You don't like the way he said it properly. He scared poor Ann into doing his bidding and now she won't ever stop calling you ‘’My Queen’’. As if you are somehow above her. Ann is so far a better human than you would ever be. She's kind and selfless. Brave too. 

“I can wash myself.” You inform him with a slight push against his chest. 

Aemond captures your wrists, holding your hand tight but soft.  “A Queen should have servants. Handmaidens are more than that. You will build a life here, Petal. I want you to have female trusted friends. Having only me is not healthy.” 

He wants you to have friends. You are first, shocked. He does not seem like the type to have any friends himself, so why should he care that you are friendless? Then you are enraged. Because if he had not kidnapped you you would actually be around people who are your friends: Daemon and Rhaenyra. And the way how he treated you, there is nothing healthy about that.

You wait until he is done healing you. “Now you care about what's healthy? Do you remember the bench you fucked me sore and bloody on? Do you remember how scared I was in the throne room and disoriented and all you did was chain me and leave me to go Gods knows where? And when you left last night when you had-” You feel sadness stir.

Aemond doesn't laugh or deny your accusations. He seems sorrowful and full of regret. “I partly regret it. The garden was too harsh. I regret hurting you. I don’t regret making love to you. I don't regret making you lose control and having you finish. I don't regret hearing you cry in my ear how badly you wanted me. I don't regret kidnapping you either. I don't regret it now, nor ever. As for leaving you, I was merely Making the final preparations. I didn't want you to arrive in an unsuited room.” He huffs.

You feel guilt washing over you. You don't deserve any of this luxury. You don't deserve it at all. He is softly circling your skin, distraught as he finally manages to gather his courage. His voice is a strained whisper. “Would you rather I had stayed, Petal? After our …intimacy? Would that have …caused less hurt?” You don't think so. He takes your hands into his own. “When we marry, you can move into my rooms or have your own rooms. I don't mind, truly. Whatever makes you feel at home the most.” You know that is a generous offer not many Queens are gifted by their kings. you wonder if it's sincere.

He continues, nervously scratching his nails against his scalp. “I do wish to see you at least once a day, to know you are well and cared for. Once a week, I hope you'll grant me the privilege to take you somewhere fun.”

“What is your idea of fun, an execution?” You remark.

“Sometimes.’’ He blurts out, unaware. You see him tense up and quickly try to defend himself. ‘’ I mean, no! Mayhaps a romantic dinner by candlelight or spending time in the library. I have a beautiful collection. You like to read don't you?” He knows so much about you. You read years ago for the last time. 

“You know so much.” You remark, suspicious. 

He continues to heal you with his mouth, and his fingertips, touching burned, bruised and injured areas of your body. He does so in silence. When he speaks, your faces are close and he is touching your lips. His voice is a whisper. “I had to. For your own safety. Darker forces than myself are conspiring. I can't risk you falling into the wrong hands.”

You laugh, ignoring his warnings, thinking it is just propaganda or lies.

“You make me sound like a weapon.” You say with a push against his chest.

He grabs your hands again, this time pressing them to his own chest. His voice is so serious, so solid and unmoving that it makes you gulp. “Not a weapon. A solution. An answer. Hope.” He declares.

Confusing emotions fight inside of you. You never had been anyone’s hope or answer. Or a solution. “For who?” You wonder.

Aemond’s lips carefully bend into a smile. ‘’Me.’’

Book Aemond if he was real and could read what I made him do:

He'd be so freaking disappointed-

xD

Thank yall.

For either being here now, for 2 years or just recently, thank you for reading my stories i love you the way Snow falls loves his little fox, the way that GodAemond loves his Petal and the way ...wait those are terrible examples because theyre really unhealthyly obessed with those girls...uhm..

OH! I love you all the way Viserys loves Balerion:) thats a healthy thing right. IDK I never read the books.

THANK YOUUU FOR READDDDING

[cementcornfield]

Tee making Ja'Marr laugh on stream 🥹

i cannot recommend watching the full version enough here

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Just wanted to say I LOVE your work! Especially with the inclusion of a black reader/character 😭🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

This is a personal lil thought of mine, BUT

John Price wouldn’t say he was dating a black woman, but there would be signs. Even though his style would be fine beforehand, He’d be dressing nicer, his hair and beard would always be well groomed and overall put together.

I think Gaz would be the first to peep something different from his Captain cuz he recognizes the work of his own people lol

And you're right because suddenly this man's beard is lined up too nicely and that damn hat is gone. Check it below the cut love.

Rating: gen audience

It all started a few months ago with a simple, "Hey Captain?" Johnny says, "Nice cologne, the hens in the media bay can't stop talking about it."

Price only shrugged, not really paying attention, "Just trying something new."

Kyle agrees, it's new, and he thinks it fits his Captain nicely.

Then, things escalate from that one-off comment.

Kyle is perplexed. Confused. Genuinely thrown for a loop because why is his Captain sporting a tapered fade that connects tastefully to his beard? With the side burns fading into the connect?

Kyle just shruggs it off as someone at his boss' super cuts trying and talking him into something new.

Only the new hair style stays and there are plenty of women and men staring at him with lust filled eyes.

The next thing Kyle noticed was the glittering shine of a simple gold chain around John's neck. It's thin, and within regulations, the clasps are too small for his co's large hands to actually put on. Kyle peeps the little gold cross that's just dangling there when he leans over the desk to point out things in their mission dockets. Hm when did he find religion? It's not really his business.

Okay what the actual fuck? Kyle is wondering where John heard the phrase "Do I look like Boo Boo the fool" to be able to understand that he needs to not answer that question with anything other than "no ma'am". They are working with another task force that's headed by an older black woman who's a force to be reckoned with. But that's beside the point because, since when did he learn that and whom did he learn it from?

John Price isn't one to actually keep up with eating lunch at work. Kyle remembers having to drag and threaten and get Simon and Soap to help him get their leader to at least try and eat lunch and not work through it. Nowadays? This man brings in lunch, and it's not what you expect. What Kyle is expecting, well...he's not really sure what he is expecting, but seeing this man eat a fried plantain sends him.

It all comes to a head when the four of them are leaving a debrief. They are shipping out at the start of next week. Set to be gone for like maybe a few months. Johnny is begging asking for them all to go out for lunch and Price only raises an eyebrow.

"Can't today Soap." Price says as they exit the office building. His eyes scan the parking lot, and a smile breaks onto his face at the sight of a shiny black car. "I've got plans."

Now Kyle knows how to put two and two together to get four. He's had his suspicions, but the reality of John Price even dating never crosses his mind. He really thought it was just the effects of him and Soap teasing him for being an out of touch old man. But no...he crosses the parking lot and opens the car door to help out a gorgeous brown beauty. There's no telling how old she could be because Kyle knows black doesn't crack (he's often called baby face...its why he refuses to shave off the little facial hair he has). Johnny is shocked and Simon just grunts out a small "huh?" as they watch their captain help his girl into the passenger side of the car.

"In hindsight." Kyle smiles and says as they watch the car pull off, "That new cologne he started wearing months ago should have let us know far before the tapered fade."

[joaniscruzing]

LUNCH: B.E.

Hey you guys! I've been writing this for about a week now and wanted to share this with you guys!

Summary: You meet Billie at a party and hit it off with her.

Contains: Partying, mentions of drinking, a kiss, very very brief sex mention/implication

I am currently writing a part 2 for this!!! Please like this if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this!

A few weeks ago, you were at a party and you noticed Billie from across the room. She was there, with her assistant, Claire. You went to get a drink with one of your friends. As you pour the drink into your cup, your friend taps you on the shoulder.

               “Fuck, girl, Billie’s looking at you.” You look over to Billie, who turns her head away instantly, almost as if she’s scared of you. Her long black hair still lingers on her shoulder as she turns her head, and she takes a strand and twirls it around her fingers.

               “She probably was just looking at the drinks,” you reassure your friend, playing with your golden daisy necklace.

               Later, you decide to dance with your friend. You grab your friend’s hand and take her out to the dance floor, accidentally bumping into Billie. She looks you up and down, hiding a smile and turning away. You watch her adjust her chains and rings, as well as straighten out her basketball jersey. You see her talking to Claire again, motioning for her to go and find Finneas and Claudia, who are talking and laughing on the couch. You decide to ignore it though, and dance with your friend.

               You dance with your friend for a bit, until you get tired. You go to a table to get another drink when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

               “Hey, pretty girl.”

               You turn around and see Billie, playing with her rings on her hands.

               “Hey.”

               You feel flushed, and you can tell that Billie is nervous as well. She looks you up and down, still playing with her rings on her fingers. She twists some of her hair as well.

               “What’s your name?” she asks you. You tell her your name.

               “I’m Billie. It’s nice to meet you, pretty girl.” You blush and continue to talk with Billie. The two of you head over to a nearby couch and begin to talk more. As the two of you begin to talk, you both find out that you both have a lot in common. The two of you grew up in a lower income house, and you were both vegan. She told you stories about her childhood celebrity crush on Justin Beiber and Sarah Michelle Gellar, while you told her your stories about yours. You laughed a lot with her.

               You both were sitting criss-crossed on the couch, sharing stories with each other like you were little girls at a sleepover. She became tired as the night went on.

               “I feel like I’ve met my new best friend,” Billie confessed to you after at least an hour of conversing, “and I thought talking to you wouldn’t go well.”

               “What? Billie, no! If I’m being honest, I thought you were shit-talking me earlier tonight.”

               “Oh, no, I was asking my assistant what I should do. I would’ve asked Finneas, but,” she motions to the other couch, where the couple is not on anymore. You both roll your eyes slightly, having an inkling of what the couple are up to at the moment.

               “I told myself that I was going to try and go out more, and go to parties. This is actually my fifth one so far.”

               “I’m sure you have some great stories from that,” you say, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. Unfortunately, you have an embarrassing number of party stories.

               “Not really, actually. I’ve usually hung out in the corner the whole time. Partying isn’t really comfortable for me yet, so I’ve been shyer at parties,” Billie admits.

               “Really? You seemed so confident coming up to me.”

               “Really. I’ve always been really scared of girls for some reason. I’ve never been a girl’s girl.” She lays her head on your criss-crossed legs. She pulls out her phone to take a picture of the two of you. She looks up at you, smiling. You take a few photos with her. She looks at you again.

               “Hey, can I kiss you? For the photo.” You were everything but against to it. After all, Billie’s confidence and looks were starting to get to you. You lean over her and give her a kiss. You taste a hint of vanilla lip balm on her lips. She takes the photo and kisses you again once more before she suddenly gets up, her phone buzzing with a notification.

               “Shit. Finneas just said that he saw paparazzi. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” She quickly runs out the door, trying to avoid the paparazzi. You return to your friends again, who have been watching every move since you left them to go hang out with Billie.

               “So, what happened? Things seemed to be going quite well over there,” one of your friends quip.

               “We talked, and took some photos. But she had to go because the paparazzi was on their way,” you explain. You’re disappointed, but not surprised. Your friend must have heard it in your voice, since she grabs you by the arm and pulls you onto the dance floor.

               “Excuse me,” you hear from behind you. You turn to see Claire, Billie’s assistant.

               “Oh, you didn’t leave with them?”

               “Billie asked me to get your contact information. She said she’d like to see you again sometime.” You give Claire your phone number, excited by this new turn of events. Could something start between you and Billie? Although, you knew she was straight. Although you were disappointed by this, you were looking forward to seeing Billie, the girl you met at this party, once again.

I hope you guys liked it!

Special shoutout to @loverofwordsandart for giving me some feedback! your advice very much helped!!

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[in our next life || IV]𓆪—

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing || getting married || wedding night || lots and lots of smut || slight mentions of previous forced prostitution || Finnick loves you so much ong || wedding rituals to add some extra spice || garters || lingerie || kinda interrupted smut || multiple rounds || creampie || (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in the masterlist)

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t have been happier. Today, the day you were going to marry the love of your life, was going to be your last day of peace.

And by hell's name were you going to enjoy it.

It was a large, elaborate dress like you wanted it to be, form fitting at the top and showing off cleavage down to your torso, your back and sides exposed as well through thin satin material. Pearls adorned every inch of the outer layer, hanging on thin gold string and designed to make it look almost like you had stepped out of the ocean.

Cinna threads pearls into your hair, humming in concentration as he puts that last one in the perfect place before looking in the mirror. “You like?”

“I love Cinna. As always.”

He smiled before walking to the dresser, leaving you to admire yourself on the podium. You always dreamed of a giant wedding, and this was it. As different as it was, especially because you could die in the next week, you didn’t care. You were marrying the love of your life and tonight would be a night that made other wedding nights pale in comparison.

As much as you were going to fuck Finnick, and him fuck you, you were also going to make love, memorize every inch of each other going into the games. You both had never gone a day without at least some relief since you had gotten addicted to each other, and of course you would fuck tonight as much as you could to make up for it.

You loved Finnick and he loved you, but you knew your biggest weakness was the other’s body, how bad you have come to lust after one another. Yes, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but why wouldn’t you fuck like the world was going to end when it probably would soon?

“Y/N,” Cinna gets your attention, opening a large box to watch a gasp fall from your lip. The collar was gold, covered in diamonds and chains with cascading pearls falling down, the large diamond in the middle the star of the show. “The one thing Finnick ever asked me for was this. I know he doesn’t like me very much,” he comes behind you, slowly clasping it around your neck before smiling at you through the mirror. “But he asked for this especially.”

“It’s beautiful, Cinna. Thank-”

“Don’t thank me, sweetheart,” he grinned. “Your future husband designed it years ago. It just took me a while to get it done, and I based your entire wedding off of it.”

You looked toward the large window of the bridal room, staring at the flood of black swarmed into the gardens behind the estate, your eyes quickly finding the only other person wearing white - your future husband. He was looking around, waiting, but almost on cue, his eyes quickly found yours. He quickly closed his eyes, but grins at you before looking away. Peeta stood close to him, and Katniss was across, but the person that surprised you the most was Mags. She stood wearing gray, right in the place for the person who would officiate the wedding was supposed to stand.

“Cinna.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Walk me down the aisle.” You turned, his jaw slack as you ran over to him, four inch heels clicking. “Please.”

“Y/N, I-I…” he paused as you took his hands, squeezing. “I’d be honored.”

You throw your arms around him, giggling as the drums start to play. You pull away, hands still in his as you giggled. “Lead the way, Cinna.”

And he does, taking you down the grand staircase and out the doors to the elevated staircase that led down to the gardens. All cameras were on you, the second one that was with every news station on Finnick’s slack jawed face. Mags stood on an elevated platform, mainly because she was so short compared to everyone else, her hand raising to start the drums again. They go once, then they go twice, and just like that, the beat starts. 

You slowly step down the stairs, Cinna leading you as Finnick wipes at his eyes, tears threatening to fall with every best of the drum. He looked beautiful, ethereal, dressed in the finest of white silks. It wasn’t a suit because that wasn’t Finnick, but something breathable, a blazer with no shirt underneath and long white pants. He had chains with pearls like the ones in your hair on his hip, a bracelet designed the same way, and a choker like yours around his neck.

His was thick but simple, studded with diamonds and the cascading pearls to accentuate your elaborate one, another large diamond stuffing the center. When you finally get to the white carpet, all eyes turn to you, or the ones that weren’t already.

Mags raised her other hand, the drums getting louder, faster as you walked down the aisle, Cinna raising your hands to stay level at your torso. You look over at him, smiling as he wipes at his eyes. “You both look perfect.”

“Are you just saying that so I think you’re not crying out of sentiment?”

He laughs as he looks over. “I’m crying out of happiness, sweetheart,” he says as he finally gets you to the platform. Mags’ hands fly out, the drums stopping immediately as he raises his hand to help you step onto the platform without stepping on himself. “Thank you, for honoring me with the chance to do that for you.”

“No one else I’d rather have do it.”

He steps onto the platform, pressing a kiss to your head before turning to Finnick. “I know you won’t do anything to hurt her, and I know you’ll do everything to protect her. All I ask is that you do the same for yourself.”

Finnick doesn’t respond, just nods as he wipes at his eyes. He watched Cinna step down, quickly catching his bicep to pull him back. “Thank you, Cinna. For everything.”

He smiled. “Nothing else I would rather do.”

Cinna doesn’t leave, though, standing on your side next to Katniss as Mags smiles at the two of you. Her hands outstretched slowly, the drums soft as they played the same beat as earlier. Finnick takes your hands, sniffling as he pulls them to his lips. “You look so, so beautiful.”

You don’t have the chance to compliment him back before Mags waved a stick in front of your faces, raising a brow as she looked down between you both. Quickly, you let go of him and take a small step back for the ceremony to begin.

You hear the giggling of children as they run over with a white fishing rope adorned with golden thread, the thick rope having to be held by about four as they run over. You recognized them from District 4, and you smiled as they finally made their way over to you.

The oldest looking one made you inhale shakily, reminding you of the young boy from District 3 from your games that was murdered right in front of you. His name was Code, and he has the same dark hair and tanned skin as the boy in front of you.

The young boy hands you one end, smiling. “Can you put this over your shoulder?” He whispers, patting your fingers. “I can’t reach.”

You giggled, nodding. You take it, but lean down to press a kiss to his hair. It was curly like Code’s, and in all honesty, they could’ve been twins. The young boy looks at you confused, but smiles as you giggle and take the end of the rope.

They make a square around you both, wrapping you together in the expensive rope and pushing you forward until you are flushed against Finnick.

They made him leave his left hand out like you did, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as yours does the same. The boys kept the rope around your upper torso because it didn’t fit around your dress and they didn’t want to ruin it. When they finish, they hand the last end to Finnick who grinned down at them making them giggle.

“You boys go get a treat, alright?”

They nodded, running off as Cinna stepped forward.

The drums got louder as he stepped up the platform, opening a long box to reveal the rings. You gasped as Finnick’s hand rubs your upper back, holding the rope with his pinkie and ring finger before grabbing the wedding ring made for you. The large pearl was wrapped with gold, studded with small diamonds around it as he took your hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

You laughed, tears brimming your eyes. “What did you boys do, drain a whole ocean for these pearls?”

Finnick kissed the back of your hand. “For you darling, I will.”

You inhale shakily as Cinna turns to you, letting go of his hand one last time before grabbing the golden band, just like your ring, a large pearl studded with diamonds around the band in a solid line. “I love you, Finnick Odair.”

Tears fell from his cheek as you kissed his hand, slipping it onto his finger. “I love you, Y/N L/N.”

The drums stop as Mags steps down, Cinna going back to his spot next to Katniss as she takes the rope from your hands, wrapping each around your left wrist. She takes a blade from around her neck, raising it for the drums to stop before cutting at each end of the rope, leaving it bound around your wrists.

Finnick smiled as the rope stayed wrapped around your bodies, the superstition of soulmates making sobs erupt in the crowd.

Your fingers intertwined together as Mags raised her hands, Katniss coming to you and Peeta going to Finnick. You smiled at her as they both took a small torch, raising it to each of your wrists before turning them on, melting the vinyl made rope together so that it stayed stuck on your wrists. They keep the flame on until the rope starts to curl, thinning itself out before the curling turns into a beautiful swirl of a bracelet around your wrist and Mags raises her hands again.

They both turn them off as you look over at Finnick’s rope bracelet, eyes watering when you see it formed a pattern almost exactly like yours. You inhaled shakily as he nudged your nose with his, stroking your cheek with the same wrist before Mags slowly pressed a kiss to each of your temples before stepping back.

She raised her hands one last time, the drums getting faster before they stopped, Finnick pulling you in for a firm kiss as soon as the silence settled in. The crowd cheers loudly as you pull him down lower, groaning against his lips as he pulls his hand out of the binds and pulls your lips almost into his mouth, groaning loudly as both of your hands thread into his hair.

You groaned loudly as his tongue slid into your mouth, almost whimpering as he pulled away before kissing your nose softly. With a giggle, you wipe his cheeks as he softly let his thumbs run under your eyes.

“I’m all yours tonight, my darling,” he whispers, smiling as you rub against the sides of his head. “And for the rest of our lives.”

“And I’m yours, Finnick,” you responded immediately, pulling him down for a kiss. “Now let’s get this party over with so we can have some real fun, sounds good?”

He laughs, nodding. “That sounds absolutely amazing, my darling.”

You both had finally managed to escape everyone extremely late, or early depending on how you looked at it as you had finally left after meeting Plutarch Heavensbee and got to your private room. The estate was something given to you by Snow when you both had finally finished being sold, a permanent home in the Capitol you would finally take advantage of before burning it down to the ground in your dreams.

You and Finnick both stood on the balcony, staring at the people partying until loud fireworks went off. Looking up, you saw Snow raising his glass toward you both. Finnick took your hand, leading you back inside before closing the glass doors and shutting the pearly white curtains.

With a sigh, you sat on the bed. You stared down at the rope around your wrist, the entire rope that the boys wrapped around your form being kept with Cinna for safe keeping. The rope melted with the gold, pearls being hidden by both gold and the fishing rope still sparkling. Your eyes went down to your ring before Finnick took your hand, kissing your skin softly.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You stare at him as his hands move from yours, pushing up your dress before kissing at the garter around your thigh. “I want you, Finnick. All of you. I want everything.”

He smiled as his teeth dragged along your garter, a gasp falling from your lips as his tongue trailed over your skin, the white lace studded with pearls sticking to your thigh. “I’ll give you everything, darling.”

You look up as someone knocks, a sigh falling from your mouth as he slowly stands up, taking off his blazer. “Want to start taking that off?”

It was easy to slip it off, especially because Cinna made it that way knowing how you and Finnick were, and you stood in front of the mirror. You rubbed your lace covered body, the lingerie Cinna designed still on before turning to see your exposed ass. It exposed your pussy as well, if you were able to see it in the position you were in, but you laid against the bed, waiting.

Finnick always knew how impatient you were, so after speaking with Haymitch and getting the gold bracelets you both were first given, he walked back in slowly. He knew you didn’t hear him, not over your loud moans as you fingered yourself, desperate to find release in that one special spot only Finnick knew.

He leans on the wall, watching your lace covered thighs shake and spread wide as you push both hands into your wet cunt, twisting and thrusting in and out to find that one area of pleasure. He watched you moan, groan, and whine loudly as your hips rut into your fingers, riding them to cause as much pleasure as you could.

Finnick knew you wouldn’t be able to get off though, not whenever your cunt was addicted to his fingers, his cock - your body was used to him, addicted to his body, memorized by his own just like you had memorized him. No one else knew how to make the other cum like each other, not when your bodies have learned and memorized and became addicted like a drug.

He walked over, slowly and quietly, letting his pants fall to the ground as softly as he could before climbing onto the bed. Your eyes snapped open, but you whined when you saw Finnick. “Fin. Fin, please, I can’t- I can’t.”

He laughs. “Can’t what, darling? Tell me what you want.”

You pulled your fingers from your cunt, whining when you saw them covered in your lewd juices. “I want you to love me, Finnick. I want to feel you.”

He groaned loudly as he leaned down, sucking on your fingers as he pushed his own into your mouth. He sucked on yours with a groan, it had been so long since he had tasted your pretty pussy. He was drunk on you in no time as you gagged on his nimble fingers, and when he pulled one hand away from your mouth, he pushed the other straight back into your mouth.

You groaned as he pulled away from your fingers, kissing your ring finger before kissing against your pelvis, licking a firm line down your slit. He gathered all of your slick juices with his tongue, sucking and popping against your hot cunt as you thread your fingers into his hair. You whined, gasping as his fingers pulled out of your mouth, pushing into your already stretched pussy.

His fingers were longer than your own, immediately finding that spot you were desperately trying to find. You threw your head back, gasping as his other hand pushed into you, both of his fingers thrusting in and out of you, twisting and stretching your pretty cunt. You whined, squirming before his elbow pushed into your thigh, his lips pressing to your garter.

“Be good, darling,” he says, teeth tugging it down to your knee. “Or I’ll stop here and now.”

You nodded, whining. “Y-Yes, yes Fin, I’ll be good. I promise.”

He smiled, tongue flicking against your already puffy clit, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud. “Will you, darling? You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nodded immediately, back arching as his fingers pushed open your cunt. Your hips buck as his tongue push into you with a loud groan, a scream leaving your lip as he thrusts his fingers in, his slimy appendage fucking you with his fingers. You attempt to close your thighs, wailing as one of his hands pull out of you, slapping your clit with basically a growl. “Behave, Y/N, or I won’t be so nice later.”

You nod. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry. I’ll be good, I promise, please don’t stop.”

He hummed, his fingers slowly, lazily thrusting into you. “I don’t know… you said you were going to be good and then you pulled something like that.”

“Fin, I need you. I need you, please. I swear, I’ll be a good girl, I’ll be your good little slut.”

He hummed, smirking up at you with a firm lick to your pussy. “Oh yeah? You’ll be good, hm? Why don’t you… why don’t you show me? Be a good bunny for me.”

Your eyes rolled back. He rarely used that nickname, and now that he did, you knew you were in for an extremely long night.

“Yes, yes Finnick, I will. I promise.”

He sits back on his heels, pulling his fingers out of you to suck them into his mouth, grinning at you. “Well then show me. Show me how much you love to fuck,  bunny.”

Immediately, you nodded as he fixed himself onto the bed, laying back with a lazy grin. He’s pumping his cock, oh his beautiful fucking cock. It was so pretty, long and flushed red at the tip, waxed down like the grooming stage always did. You whined as you licked along the bottom, sucking at his full balls as you joined his hand in pumping. “Finnick, they shaved you down,” it was slightly saddening, you always did like that trail of hair that led from under his belly button down to his base. You licked where that line would’ve been, another whine falling from your lips. “I always liked it when you had hair.”

“I know, bunny, but it’s not like it’d make you any less of a slut.” He grins, winking as he ruts his hips into the air. “Be a good girl and get off on my cock already.”

You nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his tip before crawling up on his body. Swinging a leg over his waist, you hold his cock up so that his hard length doesn’t slap against his lower stomach. You whined as you sunk down on him, his hands rubbing against your thighs. His thumb settled on the mark Snow gave you, an identical one settled in the same area on his thigh. “Come on bunny, give me a show.”

You sink down on his cock, head thrown back as he hissed loudly. “Fuck, Finnick!”

“You’re so tight, darling, tighter than ever holy shit,” he curses, groaning loudly as you slowly push yourself up before sinking down again, rolling to make his cock hit a new spot you’ve never felt before. Your eyes rolled back as his large hands settled back on your hips groaning all over again. “You’re so fucking good darling, come on. Come on, use me darling, I want you to cum on my cock.”

You whined loudly as you leaned down, kissing his lips. “Don’t say those words. Please.”

He stroked your cheek with a nod, sighing as he kissed your lips. “I want you, Y/N. Please, I want all of you.”

You whimper as his hips roll into yours, but with this new angle of leaning forward and his hands forcing your hips into his own as you kiss him. His lips were always so sweet, perfect, slightly chapped but smooth and delicious against your own. You loved it, oh and you loved him.

The sex wasn’t even sex anymore, it was love in its pure physical form, his cock sheathed deep inside of you as he kissed every inch of your skin. His thumb was settled on that mark, the same mark he had, but it was different this time. The man on top of you was the love of your life, not someone who bought you.

You pulled him up for a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Don’t stop, Fin,” you whisper against his lips. “Never stop.”

He groaned loudly, shaky hands stroking your cheeks as he nodded. “I promise, darling. I won’t, I’ll love you until I pass out.”

You whine loudly as he thrusts into you, eyes rolling back as you feel your stomach basically clench as you squeezed his cock, groaning loudly as you cum. He choked, collapsing onto you as his cum spurts into you, perfect and filling in all the right ways. Your eyes rolled back as his hips continue to thrust, sweat coated body rubbing against your own as you pulled his lips back onto yours.

“Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he grins. “I won’t, darling. I love you.”

You giggled. “I love you.”

You both finished later, bodies hot and sticky with sweat and cum as you lazily pressed kisses to each other’s lips. “We’re going into the games today,” he whispers, and this time, you weren’t scared.

“I don’t care anymore,” you whisper back, smiling. “As long as I’m with you.”

He smiled, eyes watering. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

You shake your head back. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

“We’re both getting out of there, darling,” he whispers into your hair, pressing more kisses to your head. “I swear.”

You looked up at him, smiling. This time, you really did believe him. “I love you, Finnick Odair.”

He smiles back. “I love you, Y/N Odair. Forever and always.”

You lean up, kissing his lips. “And when we meet in our next life.”

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next part will be uploaded this Sunday! (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.21.23)

© asterias-record-shop

[crossedsabers10s]

hey i was wondering if you have any headcanons or theories on what if enzo had been the one to escape augustine instead of damon? i know enzo probably wouldn't leave damon but what if something happened and he does. idk i just find the idea really interesting that's all.

ah so, someone actually asked me this once and this is what i told them (paraphrased a lil):

To the person who asked me this the first time: thank you this is still one of my fav ideas <3

And to the anon who reminded me this exists: thank you, ily <3

So. The way i figure, Enzo wins the rock paper scissors, but Damon actually gets disappeared earlier. Enzo gets told that he was disposed of--like old equipment or a sharps bin or something--that keeping two vampires was too much a risk or getting too costly. Plus. Like. I'm sure Whitmore knew all of Enzo's baseline stats, maybe he noticed he was improving? (Which. Makes me question how the hell they didn't notice one of their patients was a step away from desiccating in canon but--) But Damon actually got given to someone else doing a different project. And Whitmore throws Enzo Damon's ring as proof, probably in effort to break his spirit.

So Enzo carries out their plan alone--it was more difficult, but he'd been drinking both his and Damon's rations for long enough that he manages. He escapes goes on a very bloody rampage and burns Augustine to the ground. He finds Maggie, or Maggie finds him. They get their love story, at least for a while, bc Maggie doesn't want to turn (or maybe she does and they stay friends? or lovers and friends or--)

Eventually, he wanders into Mystic Falls—because, the thing is, Damon had told him about Katherine. There had been a day or week or long month where he had been sure he’d die in Augustine and he’d made Enzo swear to get her out for him. Told him about the amulet and the comet and the tomb. 

So. Enzo rolls into a town where—well, first, Gale and Sarah are alive and living with Zach—and second, Damon’s brother is there. Enzo watches Stefan stalk Elena for a while—he’s never seen Katherine, but he had heard Damon describe her enough that he absolutely knows Stefan is Being Weird about this—before dropping by the Boarding House, very polite and chatting with Sarah, Gale, and Zach before Stefan walks in and clocks him for a vampire. Enzo keeps on being polite like ‘yes, also a vampire, not here to hurt you, don’t worry about it’ and tells Stefan that his brother is dead. He’d died decades ago. (He does Not show him the ring he keeps on a chain around his neck, right next to the wedding ring, if he ended up married to Maggie. Maybe he should give what’s left of Damon to his brother—since there hadn’t been a body, Enzo’d been told he’d been cremated—but he Does Not Want To. There’s a thought there about how Enzo had been the one to mourn him while Stefan hadn’t even known he was dead.)

Anyyyway. Canon happens with a bit less collateral damage, as Enzo had his emotions on and wasn’t quite as invested in fucking with Stefan as canon!Damon was. He gets the amulet, Emily, with the excuse that it was Damon she made the deal with and Enzo does not have the right to use her amulet as a key, still intervenes, but eventually the Tomb gets unsealed and Enzo discovers that, hey, Katherine was a giant bitch. Who knew? (He makes it a life goal to kill her, after that. Remember that time Katherine /did/ end up trapped in the Tomb? Enzo shows up with a few gallons of gasoline and some smokes and scared the unlife out of her.) 

Canon continues to happen—as Enzo sticks around to try to find Katherine/and then to protect what’s left of Damon’s family once the Originals roll into town. (Lexi is also there, because she isn’t dead. Both of them take turns filling Damon’s original role of protecting Elena/turning Caroline/dealing with Mason so on and so forth. Lexi is the one to get bitten by Tyler, Stefan still sells his soul to Klaus for a cure. He’d just discovered that he lost his brother—and, you know, didn’t even notice—he doesn’t want to be left Alone for the rest of eternity.)

Canon remains mostly on track—a few differences here and there, but Esther still gets re-alived and the Ball still happens. 

So. Uh. Right as the toast is going down—the one that would link all the Original Sibs to each other so their mother could gank ‘em all at once—someone walks in and—uhhhh, well. Enzo drops his drink. 

Because, the thing is. Damon isn’t dead. 

Damon, had, in fact, been sold to yet another mad scientist, this one obsessed with magic. Like, the guy wanted to unlock the secrets of vampirism, but not how their blood heals. He wanted to unravel what makes them. Like reverse engineering Esther’s spell. Maybe even he’d been after/interested in Silas and rightfully liked vampires as the next step down from it. Or he’d even tracked down Silas’ doppelganger bloodline and mistakenly thought it was Damon instead of Stefan due to the blood they share. 

So Damon spent fifty years being put through ritual after ritual, used as ingredients, had his mind, body, and very lifeforce played with like putty. He’s got magic runes and sigils inked and burned into his skin, scars that refuse to heal from magic so dark it makes Expression look like Glinda the Good’s bubble spells, and a whole host of new issues because he’d been alone for fifty years. 

Like. Anxiety, severe depression accompanied by an emotional flatness that often ends in dissociation. (I’ve legit been thinking of this as: In Which the Author Gives Damon Salvatore Anxiety *Evil Cackle*) Plus the magic that’s been dragged out of his soul makes him more prone to like. Just not paying attention to the physical world. He just stares off into space, blank faced and lifeless as any slightly glowing statue.

So. Yeah. After that, Elijah, of all people, finds him. Maybe Evil Magic Scientist died and one of the witches who knew Elijah went, maybe he’d like to hear about this? (As I imagine Elijah was forever looking for some way to break Klaus’ curse/restore Kol’s magic, he just never mentioned it to not get their hopes up, and he just. Kept up the habit even after he thought Klaus yeeted their sibs into the ocean.)

Elijah rescues him, debates killing him out of mercy, but doesn’t. And Damon spends some time recovering on a beach in like France or something. Elijah is the one to break it to him that Katherine is alive and free, that his Augustine friend is too, is living with his brother in Mystic Falls—and like. Damon wants to go there, but also—he’s traumatized, with powers he can barely control, and there’s the nasty thought that he’s been replaced. That Stefan has a new, better brother in Enzo, that Enzo has a new best friend who isn’t broken and moved on with his life when Damon’s been stuck missing him for more decades than he cares to remember, that if Katherine never cared about him at all, what does he have to live for? 

So. Damon walks into the ballroom, skin still tingling from the magic burned into him, a scar curving under his eye from where it had been cut out, spelled, and then put back in, and gives most of the people there a variety of heart attacks when he very casually knocks Elijah’s drink out of his hands, says ‘oops’, and then walks back out. 

…

There should be better music. 

The town’s rebel son coming home after half a century should rate better than a lackluster rendition of Clair de Lune. Like AC/DC. He likes Back in Black. It’s exactly the kind of music his father would have had a heart attack at, which automatically puts it in the running for Best Things About the Twenty First Century. 

Right up there with the clothes—or the lack thereof—the cars, and the sheer magnitude of the internet. 

…

“You’re late,” Elijah says, acting as if Damon walking into the black tie party of the year wearing jeans, a flimsy T-shirt, and motorcycle boots was the plan all along. He doesn’t even have a jacket, putting all the silvery scars and stark black arcane sigils on his arms on display.  

Hell, maybe it was. Elijah is hard to read at the best of times. Let alone right after his long dead mother pries her way out of the afterlife to throw herself a party. He’d been oddly reserved in his correspondence lately, not giving his opinion on the events one way or another. Just another reason for Damon to come to Mystic Falls in person. Elijah going cagey after Damon had grown used to the man being bluntly honest, if somewhat polite about it, had been disquieting. 

And it’s a good thing he had decided to return home at long last—after months of avoiding even the thought—with what he’d learned not even half an hour ago. 

“Sorry,” he says, shallow as any of the myriad of glitzed out people staring at the scene they're making. Somehow, despite all the eyes making his skin prickle, no one is really registering as real quite yet. No one but Elijah. And if he’s deliberately keeping it that way by purposely focusing on the Original, then at least there’s no one else in his head to call him out on it. Right now. That he knows of. “I didn’t want to come.”

He snags a champagne glass off the tray as he walks towards the staircase. The dirt on his boots from where he’d been lurking in the garden and not giving himself a pep talk flakes off into the polished floor. 

He used to be good at this, being the center of attention, going to these things all the time. When he was human and otherwise. 

He can do it now, when there’re actually things of importance on the line, but he’s no longer so at ease in his own skin and the crowd of people is leaving him—

Not nervous. 

Damon doesn’t get nervous. 

Uneasy, maybe. 

Paranoid, definitely. 

…

The entire room watches as champagne drips down the stairs. 

Belatedly, he says, “Oops.”

…

He’d been hanging out on the window to Esther’s spell room while she was with Elena and Finn while in the form of a crow—a nifty power that he actually likes. He actually prefers being crow shaped to human some days—and overheard their whole plan. Including Finn and Esther’s jabs at Elijah. Who he is spectacularly attached to, even if they both prefer to pretend that he isn’t. 

…

“You told me my brother was dead.”

Enzo doesn’t look away from the ghost across the ballroom. Faintly, he says, “I thought he was.”

“You lied to me,” Stefan says, so quietly that he could scarcely be heard over the noise of the room. 

Enzo manages to tear his eyes away Damon’s tense silhouette. It takes a certain amount of willpower to not immediately turn back. He looks at Stefan, whose hands are clenched around an empty champagne glass so tightly it is just as much a miracle as Damon’s appearance that it hasn’t shattered. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t—“ 

All of Enzo’s words abandon him at the soul-deep betrayal Stefan can’t hide. 

They hadn’t gotten along in the beginning, he and Stefan. Not when Enzo had only known him as the man who hadn’t even noticed his brother’s absence. Not when Stefan had only known him as someone who had barged his way into his perfect high school fantasy, bringing bad news and worse intentions as Enzo had done his best to fulfill Damon’s wish to see Katherine free. 

(He’d been almost glad that Damon hadn’t been there to see that godforsaken tomb, to know that the woman he’d died for had skipped merrily away while he’d devoted his life to getting her back.)

… 

“No big deal. I owe you, remember?”

“Damon.” Elijah steps forward. Damon doesn’t flinch as a hand settles into his shoulder and squeezes. Elijah’s eyes are firm as he says, “For this, any debt you think you owe is more than repaid.”

“I don’t think—“

“If anything,” the man continues, “I owe you. You put your life at risk to save my family.” 

And hadn’t that been a delicate way of skirting around the fact that it was family that had put the rest of them in danger. 

“I hung out on a windowsill for five minutes,” Damon protests. 

…

“You,” he says, scarcely an inch away from Damon and staring like he’s two seconds from slicing him open to see what makes him tick, “are not a vampire.”

“News to me,” Damon says lightly, in direct contrast to the blatant way he takes a step away from the Original. That brand of curiosity is one he is more than familiar with and he doesn’t appreciate it. If that step takes him closer to Elijah, then it’s a coincidence. “Should I not be drinking blood, then?”

“Vampires,” it is proclaimed as Kol draws even nearer, “cannot do what you have just done.”

“Have they tried? It’s not that hard,” Damon says, taking another step back. His arm brushes Elijah’s. Who sighs, but takes a single step forwards, extending an arm as he does. 

Damon doesn’t sigh in relief, but he does lose some of the tension he hadn’t realized was in his shoulders. Not all of it. But some. 

Kol frowns down at where Elijah’s finger is touching the center of his chest, stopping him in his tracks. He exhales petulantly, but stops staring at Damon like he wants to weigh his liver. “‘Lijah, your pet turns into a bird. How?”

…

“What have you brought into the house?” Rebekah asks her brother, eyes on Damon. 

…

Damon isn’t a witch or anything, his powers are like. The result of having the magic that made vampires stripped bare, broken down, and amplified. It gives him powers closer to what vampires had in the Vampire Diaries books—though def not as strong as his much older book counterpart. 

This, of course, leads to Kol going on a research spree, because this is the closest he’s come to getting his magic back since it abandoned him. Cue multiple scenes of Damon running tf away while Kol pokes him with a stick. Elijah dumps all of Evil Magic Scientist’s Research on his brother to cut down on the instances of Damon hiding somewhere in the rafters. 

Klaus absolutely tries to use him as an asset, except Elijah is fond of him and Damon can and will find a flock of crows to chill with for a week or two to hide. 

…

“And you thought that what? Taking over my life would be atonement?”

“I—“

“My town, my family, my brother? Leaving me there wasn’t enough, you had to replace me?”

“Da—“

…

Enzo slams him into the wall. Damon falls silent. The placid look on his face can’t disguise the rage, eyes glinting like ice in the light. It’s the most emotion Enzo’s seen from him since— 

It’s the most emotion Enzo’s seen from him since he’d popped back up, miraculously alive and in the company of Elijah, of all people. 

…

“Because the memory of you was all I had left!”

…

So. That. Stefan, who has been feeling guilty over Augustine and everything, is relieved that Damon isn’t dead. Enzo, who has spent. Years of his life loving Damon’s ghost, now has to deal with a walking, (sometimes, not often) talking man who looks through him more than at him. 

 Elena, Bonnie, Caroline, ect. Try to be supportive while also being not as trusting, bc Damon is v obviously on the Originals (Elijah’s) side. Though he won’t hurt them or anything, and, in fact, is more likely to zone out and leave the room, he’s still like an active obstacle to getting rid of the Mikaelsons. And then there’s a whole new subplot that Stefan and Enzo are invested in called Getting Damon Away From the Originals. 

(Damon barely notices this. He’s in Mystic Falls again. It’s weird. Whenever he’s human shaped and not with Elijah and Stefan/Enzo and all the complicated feelings he doesn’t get as a crow arent at home, he basically haunts the Boarding House like a ghost. The human relatives keep giving him food he doesn’t eat and Sarah keeps sending him playlists on the phone/computer he barely knows how to work. She eventually makes him an actual mix tape on a tape recorder he knows how to work called Music My Grandpa Doesn’t Listen To. Gale will show him baby pictures and like. Will occasionally get a very disjointed anecdote from Stefan’s childhood in return. Zach will sit with him in nervous-at-first—on both ends lol—silence and watch TV. Damon absolutely won’t drink something if any of them pour it, esp Zach, they notice this and stop trying.)

Eventually, Katherine rolls into town and tries to start a makeout sesh with Damon to make Stefan jealous. (She makes Enzo jealous instead) and Damon. Uh. bites off her tongue. It’s a thing.

So, there’s a long road of Damon coming back out of his shell, being more present, complete with the occasional backslide and a few instances of him forcing himself to act like he used to to be ‘more normal.’ Enzo stays very patient through all this, helping him recover, respecting his boundaries, and just generally trying to do what Maggie did for him. Stefan does his best too—the more Damon gets more used to everything the wilder he gets, which Stefan both appreciates and does Not lmao. The Originals move on to New Orleans, Damon stays in MF, which both he and Elijah decide is a Good Thing for him, bc he’s more stable/is less codependent these days. Still visits tho. Which. Skews things a lil bit, to have a magic vampire dropping by in NOLA. 

I did end up using some of this in my Feral!Damon series actually, tho the beginning is different, mostly the interactions w his human family

[shadowofahope]

Love Revocation

Pairing: ImperialGuard!JungHoseok x Princess!Reader

Premise: Only your brothers would be willing to step in and try to change your future. But history isn't easy to overcome, even if it is all but forgotten.

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: I've been watching a lot of historical k-dramas and c-dramas lately, and I can say it's an addiction at this point! If you have any favourites feel free to share! I'd love to watch your recommendations as well as talk about any mutual ones we love!

masterlist

One foot infront of the other, the crisp air of the afternoon breeze through your robes and hair, the light chatter of people in the market; it all gave you a bittersweet taste of Deja vu. Times like these felt right, but you had the feeling that nothing looked as it should. It could be the small taste of freedom mixed with the claustrophobic fear being chained somewhere. However, where the other end of the chain was you didn’t know. Or you did once, but it was lost with the rest of your memories from all those years ago. 

You stopped trying to remember after the first two season changes, then you accepted your circumstances and adjusted yourself to where you were. 

Arms full, you smile gracefully at the passing merchants and village people, the ones bowing at you when recognization transpired. You all but skip down the back path heading towards the palace again. 

You promised mother you’d finish her painting of the place father asked for her hand today. You had beeen working on it for her birthday, but you were too excited to wait. So it may have been promised 2 weeks earlier then her day.

However, a shroud voice catches your attention before you make it to the next corner. You stop in your tracks to listen. If living in the palace taught you anything it was ‘to always know the concerns of your people’, were fathers exact words. In otherwords you took it as a sign that it was ok, in most situations to eavesdrop… at least a little. 

“She is being forced to marry the oldest son of the emperor and empress. Her bloodline will muddy just as theirs already is.” A sinik male voice mocked. 

“What do you mean by that?” You heard your brothers fiance ask. She was a headstrong woman. Not only that but she was radiant. The type of woman your brother deserved. 

“Everyone knows the young lady is unfavoured by the gods. So if you bear a child with him your children will be inflicted with the same inability.” This time a female voice chimed in. Just as distasteful as the males.

“The princess is kind, witty, social, politically intelligent, well read, impactful, understanding and unworldly beautiful. Our children will be blessed to have her as their aunt.” Tayla lists, you smile to yourself. She didn’t have to defend your honour so seriosuly, but you silently thanked her none the less. 

“You have your doubts. There is no way you do not feel some worry about tarnishing your family name. Its reputation will be dragged through the land if your children fail to develope as she has. They will be cursed as she is.” 

Anyone talking about your family members however, you just couldn’t let it slide so easily.

“My brothers children will develop into the strongest blood line of these past 1000 years, we are in no need of your concern.” You step in, rounding the corner of the building. Your voice and demeanour remain calm, a smile on your lips as your mother had taught you when it came to political arguments. Remaing calm when the opposing side could not, as strategy she had learned in her youth.

What others said about you didn’t really bother you anymore. As a young child you always felt the sting of their harsh words. Like they were hoping you’d choke on them. But it had the opposite affect. It only drove you to try harder, to learn the ways of the palace. To push yourself past the limits that this life had given you. 

“My lady!” Many courteous greetings are followed by formal bows. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I was out for a walk through the village to get a few supplies.” Holding up the items in your hands, you sidle up to your future sister in law. Taking a step between her and the small circle of ill intended pupils.

“We didn’t mean anything by it. We were just worried she hadn’t thought it through. Or raised concerns” One of the young males spoke quickly. You stifle a scoff, but continue to maintain your composure.

“I’m sure you are.” You eye him carefully, if you weren’t mistaken he was one of the many candidates who wanted Tayla’s hand in marriage. “However as I am not my mother and fathers birth daughter, you’ll be happy to know my genes will die with me.” 

“You are not the child of the Emporer and Empress?” The small crowd gasps in unison. You could laugh at how comical their faces became. 

Even so, amongst the mumbling in front of you there is a faint call from behind you, you turn to her.

“Mother and Father saved me when I was young. Knowing I could not cultivate nor could remember where I had come from or how I ended up where they found me, they showed compassion and mercy upon taking me in and raising me with their children.” You explain to her alone. “I am blessed beyond measure. And your children will hold the greatest of titles. ”

--------

A few days had past since your unexpenctant, informal announcement of your lineage. A very important matter had taken your attention, so you had all but forgotten already. You hear frantic footsteps approach your room. You brace your mind for the inevitable impact that would be your brothers. Your hand doesn’t still as it continues to write on the parchment of your lessons from today. Your doors burst wide open, not bothering to look up at them.

“Are you really planning to take the tether serum?” Your youngest brother demands breathlessly. 

“You’re here earlier then I expected, I am almost surprised.” You smile to yourself. If you had placed money on them discovering your plans, it would not have been until at least a week had past.

“Don’t make light of this.” Your eldest brother scolds from the rear, coming up behind your younger brother, closing the doors to conceal your conversation.

“Why would you make such a thing?” Taehyung's bewilderment is something you had became accustomed to. He somehow always seemed shocked by your actions. Considering how long you had been in the family now, you would have thought he had understood you at least a little.

You let out a deep sigh, the air from your lungs feels cold as it leaves your body into the warm air. 

“I want to be of use to mother and father in the end. Is that so outrageous as to incur your unmistakable wrath?” You choose your words carefully, not wanting to sadden them with todays ongoings but at the same time you know Seokjin’s fiance has already informed him of the other day. 

“We both understand greatly how indebted you feel towards them, but to tether your lifeline to them as someone still young is unheard of.” Seokjin reasons, still standing in the middle of the room, you can see his robes out of your peripheral. Taehyung sits down in the place next to you, trying to get your attention.

“Elder brother is right. If they both pass then so shall you, your soul cannot be separated. You shall serve them into death and upon new life.” His tone turning sorrowful. 

This time you look up at him, then towards your elder. 

“My dear brothers, It’s no secret that no one would marry me before and now with my birth being admitted, I have somehow lost whatever leverage I may have had.”

“That’s not true.” You see the hurt in the youngers eyes, but what you've said is true. You all know it. You give him a sad smile, letting your hand drop the brush, and placing it over his on the table.

“I cannot cultivate. I have no sense of magic or any prowess. My soul has been deemed weak and now people know that I am not the Emperor and Empress' true daughter.” You direct your smile towards Seokjin. “I have been preparing myself for this outcome since we were young. Please, if you cannot understand me then at least accept that this is your sisters wish.”

--------

“The last time the two of you bowed this deeply to us was when you were young children and you and our son had broken a priceless family heirloom while you were training in the halls.” The Emperors longest friend muses from his seat. Him and his wife had known your parents since they were young, they were as close as family. Including their son, who happened to be the same age as you. So all four of you had grown up together.

“Uncle. Auntie. We are here to request an inordinate favour from you. One we know may be impossible for you to agree to, but we must ask this of you.” Seokjin’s whole body is tense. Everything he can do to save you from tethering yourself is hanging on this outcome. 

“What is it?” Your aunt is more curious then worried by their request. Seeing them kneel before them was a shock bigger then they had ever expected. 

Your brothers sit up straight.

“Our sister. As you know she is unable to cultivate. She has no skill in combat. Many have deemed her unworthy to bear our family name.” Seokjin’s voice comes out strong, but his hands are trembling slightly. “However, as you also know. Our sister is competent in the kitchen, and with chores of the home. She is patient and nurturing when she takes care of the palaces many children. She has beautiful skills in the way of art and embroidery. She is generous beyond measure and courteous to others. She deserves to have a future.”

“We both agree. She is a diamond amongst pebbles. But what brings this tone of concern?” Uncle is concerned.

“Our sister has decided to take the tether serum and serve our parents.” Taehyung explains. “We do not know if you have heard the word circling about our sister not being of our blood. But we are here to confirm it. Our parents took her in when I was newly born, she is all I’ve known to be an older sister.”

“We are aware of the talk. We were also there the day your parents found the young lady.” The Uncle assures. “You do not need to worry about our thoughts towards the princess.”

“I am curious to this favour. What do you wish to ask for?” Auntie pushes. 

“Our sister wishes to tether herself for she believes no one will marry her.” Seokjin explains. They bow again in unison, as if they had practiced their movements and speech before appearing. “We ask of you to please propose a marriage contract to the Emporer and Empress between our sister and your son.”

Taehyung cuts in quickly before they can be dismissed.“We know he is your only son, but we beg of you. She respects your son and you, uncle and auntie. There are many things she may be useful for.”

“Useful? She is enough as she is. We know that very well.” Uncle states, making eye contact with his wife. The look of understanding flashing between the two, unseen by the young princes.

“Just as we know our son. He has felt feelings of affection for the young lady for quite some time. You might not know this but she was the reason he decided he wanted to join the guard.” The older woman conceals her giggle behind her hand. “I had never seen such a rambunctious boy turn so serious.”

“He knew?” They both shoot up in surprise. Their friend had never mentioned having any knowledge of your sisters situation. But then again, they had never spoken of this either. 

“Yes. Our son was adamant that he would protect the princess. We could not sway his mind. Though we did not try to. We have never looked down on her because of her situation. She has become a well rounded beautiful woman, our son would be blessed to take her as his wife.” The Lord nods, 

“Does that mean you will agree?” They feel giddy. They could save you.

The older couple share a fond smile. 

“There is something our son has been drawn to since he was a young boy. We believe your sister is the key to his happiness.” 

--------

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?” You beam, controlling your feet to not skip your way over to him. A lady never skips…at least not in front of others.

“Princess” He greets you with a bow and warm smile as he always does. “I was summoned by the Emperor and Empress. Why have you come?” 

“I was requested by Uncle and Auntie to meet them here.” You explain. “What is going on? Do you think its about Mothers birthday feast tomorrow?” 

“I’m not sure, but we should not keep them waiting. Let us go in.” He opens the doors and waits for you to enter first.

You hurry in, smiles directed at your parents then your uncle and aunt. 

A large round table adorned with vast plates of food, both your fathers sat near the far end laughing and chatting away, raising a drink to eachother. Your mothers seated next to their husbands also tremendously cheerful. 

You share a quick glance before bowing. 

“Emperor. Empress.” He greets first.

“Uncle. Auntie.” You greet directly after. 

“Children! Come in! Have a seat.” You father cheers happily. Your aunt waves a hand over to you for you to sit next to her. 

You bound over to sit next to your aunt. Which just so happens to be next to Hoseok as well.

“We are celebrating this evening.” Your mother informs, her attention on him.

“What are we celebrating Empress?” Formality laced in his words. It made you smile, even if he was like another son to your parents he highly respected them. 

“Lord and Lady Jung, have come to us with a proposal contract and we have agreed.” The Emporer boisterously exclaims.

“I’m sorry, Father and Mother I fear I do not comprehend.” You express, eye brows coming to meet in a frown. 

You see a flash of something cross Hoseoks face, but you stay focused on your looking between your parents. 

Your Aunt grabs both your hands, placing them in the space between you and forcing you to face her.

“The Emporer and emperess have accepted our proposal for our son and you to be wed.” She cheers brightly, hands giving yours a light squeeze.

“I’m to marry-?” You look back at him. Scared to see panic or disgust or even rage on his dazzling features. But there isn’t any sign of darkening. Only red tinted ears give away any emotions he’s feeling. That in itself leaves you astonished adn shaken. 

Words of wedding ceremonies are abrupt in your ears. The pattern of the bedding for your marriage suite. 

“But, Uncle, auntie. I’m not worthy of marrying your son.” You say it like it is a definite fact, interrupting their excited remarks. 

“Nonsense!” Your father bellows, a bright smile never leaving his face, he places his arm around his long term friend, who shares an equally blinding smile. “You two shall be wed! It is a beautiful idea, one I wish we had thought of sooner.” 

The laughter from the elders erupts once again, leaving you shell shocked. Remaining quiet you can’t bring yourself to look at anyone, opting to stare at the oak table in front of you. How did these events happen? You had just made the choice to…

A sinking feeling hits you all at once. Your brothers. They were the only ones that knew of your plans, other then the physician you had asked the tether serum about. They would be the ones to try to stop you. 

You’d deal with them after this dinner. You’d confront them and talk to Hoseok about his rejecting the marriage proposal. 

You just had to sit nicely until then.

--------

“What did you do?!” You stormed into the study room the next day, you knew your brothers had hidden themselves away. They always resided in the same place to try to escape you when they had done something they knew you would be unhappy with. You had been followed by Hoseok on your way there when you mentioned you were confronting your brothers, upon meeting him that morning.

“Sister. This is a study room. Please refrain from raising your voice.” Your oldest mock scolding you, book in hand.

“Then answer me. I know it was the two of you that have provoked the marriage idea.” You were pulling back your seething temper, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 

“Princess~” Hoseok calls calmly from behind you. You could feel him close behind you, not touching but close enough that you felt like you could breathe.

“What all of our parents decide to do we do not hold any influence over. You know as well as anyone.” Seokjin scoffs. The audacity he had to play ignorant at this moment was appalling. 

“We may have brought up the idea of a union.” Taehyung supplies from the far end of the room. 

“Why would you do this?” Exasperation seeps out of you. There was no point in hiding your displeasure or annoyance at these two. “You know I wish to be tethered.”

“Tethered?” Hoseok speaks again. “Who were you to be tethered to?”

“Mother and Father.” You state, angry eyes set on your brothers, but also not wishing to elaborate. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. You were all childhood friends, you wanted to tell him yourself when he had time away from his duties in the guard.

“She believes no one shall love her because she is unable to cultivate. She believes she is not worth dotting on.” Your elder brother chimes in, closing his book and sauntering over to you. “But that’s not true. Is it Hoseok?“

“No. It’s not.” Your childhood friends voice is stern, you had never heard it like this before, at least not targeted at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Is this why you wanted me to talk my parents out of this marriage?”

“I wanted to be tethered to mother and father because I wish to serve them for eternity.” Your jaw tense. Your core feeling as it had turned into stone. 

“Look at me.” You have never heard his voice so cold and low, not even when he was at work. Something in you makes it impossible to deny him, so you do as he orders. You can see the fire behind his eyes, before your allow the flames to consume you you look towards the chilled marble ground. You hear muffled voices of your brother behind you but you can’t react. You feel warm fingers gently push your chin up ever so gently, forcing you to make eye contact. “Princess. Y/n. Is that really why?”

Your voice catches in your throat. A cough threatening to scratch its way out of you. “I am not like others. I cannot contribute to a high class home as I should. I’m…. broken.”

You had never felt so weak as you did in that moment, not since the days yo uhad been found. You could never lie to him. Not once. 

He studies your face, searching for something. “Is it the worst to be betrothed to me?”

“What?” His question catches you off guard. You blink at him in confusion. Of course, you knew he would be angry at your decision, or at the very least angry with you for not trusting in him to discuss it. 

“I can understand if you wish not to be wed to me because you do not think I’m adequate.” His voice soft like the look in his eyes. Soothing your anger towards your brothers in a instant, your only focus on him and the sad smile on his lips.

“That is ridiculous. I would not want it to be promised to any one else in this entire kingdom.” Why do you feel breathless? 

“Good.” His hand slips away from your skin. For a mere second, you miss the contact before realizing what you said. Your face burns with embarrassment, your eyes scrunching closed at how idiotic you sounded to yourself. Had you lost your mind? “Then I will discuss with our parents for the ceremony to be held as soon as possible.”

The shock brings you back out of your inner reprimanding. But before you can formulate words he’s bowing to your brothers and then you and he’s gone.

“W-what just happened?” Your mind struggles to catch up. 

Hearing your brothers snicker at you doesn’t’ help, you’re still frozen in place. Frozen staring at the now closed doors that Hoseok, your childhood friend, had left through. 

Seokjins full laugh fills the room. “Looks like you’ll be a little bride faster than I will be a groom.” 

masterlist

[12timetraveler]

Something In The Orange

Chapter 13

Summary: In the aftermath of the big reveal, reader finds herself at a crossroads.

Notes: Hey all. I just wanted to say thank you all so much for your constant support. Just a few days ago marked one year since I posted the first chapter of this story. I honestly never expected so many loyal readers who comment every chapter. I get so excited to read your reactions every time.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Especially after the pain of the last one.

As always, blame typos on my phone's autocorrect system. One day I'll go through and edit all of it.

As per usual, below is a little sneak preview. Read the full chapter and the full story on AO3

You must be logged in to an account to read my works on AO3. Blame AI Scraping for that.

You'd think that returning to the place that you'd called home for a decade would be comforting. But all it did was serve to highlight how lonely you were.

It reminded you of how you'd felt after your granny passed. Couldn't even hold a funeral due to the pandemic. Just hired some grave digger to bury her in the family plot and that was that. You were all alone.

Going to university, making all those friends, meeting Hosea, it had saved you from that lonely feeling. You'd finally had a herd of people who cared about you. You had a family. But you'd gone and ruined that, and now you were alone again.

You were convinced it was your punishment for some unknown wrong: loneliness. Now you'd ruined your found family, possibly destroyed an actual blood family too. You had a hard time imagining a world where Arthur could forgive his father. The two had been thick as thieves but now they were separated but this giant rift, with John likely caught in the middle.

And the loneliness was your reward.

The friend group of course was blowing up at the drama. You couldn't stand to look at the group chat, but they all sent you private messages (except Arthur, though that was no surprise). Their reactions ranged from shock to concern. None of them seemed outright angry, though you wouldn't have blamed them if they had.

Sadie was the most persistent of all of them, texting you nearly every hour for three days just to try to find out if you were alive. Finally you texted her back, if only to stop her from calling that reality show bounty hunter guy to come and track you down.

This satisfied her for about a little while. At least she knew you were alive. Though she made you check in with her multiple times a day.

Your first week back in Brandywine was mostly a blur. You spent most of it crying, occasionally cracking open a bottle of liquor and downing it at an alarming rate. Though there wasn't much alcohol in the house, and you ran out pretty quickly.

After that you hardly left your bed, alternating between fitful sleep, hysterical crying, and long stretches of dissociation. You knew you should try to pull yourself together. This wasn't healthy. You should get it together and do something instead of just wallowing in your mistakes.

But the loneliness had a grip on your heart that rivaled anything else. Like shackles chaining you to a prison wall. You were unable to do anything to help yourself. Could hardly remind yourself to eat most days. You'd try to watch something, read something, do anything but lay there. But you were held down by the monster tendrils of your depression.

The first time you really managed to snap out of it, even for a moment, was when you were pulled from your dissociation by a knocking at your door. At first you felt nothing but confusion, almost like you didn't even know what knocking at the door meant. Slowly you seemed to come around. Though you were now confused as to who may be knocking at your door.

You considered ignoring it. You didn't really have the energy to entertain. Or to face what you'd done. But still the insistant knocking finally dragged you out of your bed. Slowly you descended the stairs, not sure who could be knocking.

“Dove, please,” Hosea's muffled voice carried through the door.

[frostironfudge]

Conversations With The Devil (Part 2) - Bucky Barnes

Summary: For the week 2 writing game by @the-slumberparty i chose to continue one of my first one shots submitted to a challenge, Conversations With The Devil (part one) can be read here. My opening line prompt was 'He was at a crossroads and whichever path he chose would ruin someone’s life.'

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Devil! Bucky x Desi! Female!Reader

Word Count: 6.9k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, seances gone wrong, Oral F and M receiving, horror themes, smut, having sex with the devil?, a smidge of demon cock (nothing explicit just demon p grinding against human v), overstimulation, p in v, multiple orgasms, magic, sort of god complex, a little dark, whump, possession of a family member of the reader (not very horror-esque), protective bucky, horny bucky, devil bucky is a menace. please proceed with caution, you are responsible for your media consumption.

Masterlist || AO3

He was at a crossroads and whichever path he chose would ruin someone’s life. Not that he ever cared for either kind of critters that littered the realms he roamed. Bucky was more so concerned with himself, always himself and his concerns.

Even months ago when he stumbled across those three little humans during the seance. 

He stares at the gold gleaming around his wrist, it was surprising this piece of magick. Remaining uncut by the most demonic and angelic of swords. The fire of hell did not melt the gold. Incantations that would have worlds collapsing did not break the chains.

A curse or blessing upon the human’s family. He scoffs, at least they were no longer binding his neck and right hand. Only one remained around his left wrist keeping the two of them coterminous across realms. He licks his lips remembering her taste on his tongue. His cock hardens, then Bucky focuses his eyes back on the demons arguing in his court. He resists the urge to roll his eyes at their repetitive blabber.

Tear apart limbs this, possess little red haired ragdoll that; Bucky groans internally. 

Then a wicked smile stretches across his face. He should check in on his own little Doll. She did just tempt him. It had been days since he teased her from his throne. The tendrils bellow softly beneath his throne, making their way to the portal he had hidden.

Closing his eyes, Bucky visualises her, hmm, a different outfit than he’d seen her wear before. The long skirt shifts delicately with each step. 

His gaze takes you in, your brows furrow as you turn in the empty corridor trying to discern why the feeling of being watched creeps up your spine. His fists clenched as he stopped himself from allowing you to feel his touch.

You would have to wait.

You’re at yet another boring pre wedding dinner with the entire family. Distant cousins, uncles and aunts all gathered around. The loved by all elders and hated by all cousins, cousin Shaiyana, beams brightly as she shows off her man. 

Only the women in the family can see the faint gold chains that extend from her own bracelet to the boy’s neck and hands. You bite the inside of your cheek.

No one knew yet of Bucky or the fact that the chains had reduced from three to one over the span of six months. His intermittent visits and the one instance where he–no, he wasn’t there because of you. He had to cage that demon. He wasn’t there for you. 

Your mind still brings forth that night, from four months ago. 

Four Months Earlier.

Martin shrugs you off yet again, saying this time the seance would be foolproof. Lesser candles and Misha’s confidence lured you into the plan yet again. So there you all sat, fingers on the planchette. 

Dread filled every crevice of your chest. The hairs on your body rising as the temperature dropped enough for you to see Misha’s breathy exhale followed by Martin’s sniffle.

“Why does this happen to us?” Martin questions, the planchette moves to the letters.

The two of them stare at you with accusatory gazes as your name is spelled out.

“What–,” Your words are cut off as the three of you are yanked into corners of the room. You wheeze out as a pressure builds upon your chest, your hands placed down an invisible force holding you down. 

Misha’s voice echoes with the prayer followed by three claps, you breathe hard as the pressure vanishes. 

“What the fuck was that?” They ask you. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know.” 

Checking your hands, three long lines manifest across your forearm as though scrapped. No words or responses form. Wordlessly you help them fix their living room and leave for your own home.

The studio apartment greets you as you had left it. Every little common sound, reasonable thump has you on edge. Part of you wonders if Bucky would know what that was, if he would even appear again. 

The last time you saw him was when he raised his head from between your shaking thighs and licked his fingers and lips. Then he left. You knew he was still bound when your bracelet gleamed with three chains that seemingly went nowhere. As it did every day since that night two months ago.

You stare at the bracelet yet again and sigh a part of you sought him out. Wanting to know more, wanting to talk to him, feel him pressed against you again. Shaking the thoughts away, you go through your routine before bed.

Soon enough your earlier dread returns just on the cusp of sleep. Before you can utter the little prayer to defend yourself, the weight on your chest returns, heavier than before and you can hear the low growl above you. 

Your bracelet shifts closer to your palms, your folded fingers brush over the chains. Your mind brings forth his deepening azure eyes. 

The presence yet again holds your hands down. It reminds you of sleep paralysis only occurring when you’ve had the most tiring of days. 

“Please–,” You rasp, “Let m-me g-go, p-please–,” The pressure adds onto your throat the tears pooling now brim over. 

You can feel one breath remaining, it's a long shot you know. 

“Bucky.” You whisper into the room, only resulting in the pressure intensifying on your chest.

There is a snarl from the edge of your apartment, darkness shrouds a tall looming figure. Your eyes widen fighting the urge to close. Your struggles increase and the figure moves closer, the shadowy tendrils move across the space wrapping around above you, around nothing and they pull. As soon as they pull away you cough the ability to breathe freely returns.

The darkness now towers above your bed. You watch the invisible creature appear with crooked limbs and bottomless pits for eyes. It is pulled to the ground and a portal closes just as it is dragged under ground. 

You look up at the darkness, it clears, a horned creature watches you, its face covered in cracks as though marble damaged. The colour of its skin is a mix of grey and the cracks seemingly gold.

Its eyes blazing red with a catlike shape, trained upon you as it levitates upside down, you watch the gargoyle-like wings not open to their full expanse given the space, its lower body still covered by the bellowing tendrils. The demon settles across you on your bed. 

It saved you. 

Tilting its head it observes you silently. Lips unmoving just watching you. 

Your hands move to where the other demon’s scratches grave your forearm, its eyes follow the movement. It grabs your forearm and pushes up your sleeve. The demon’s face morphs into surprise you think. 

Maybe it wondered why you were not screaming? Or reciting pages of a holy scripture at it. 

Your brows furrow, its touch is familiar. The long fingers with dark nails begin to morph as they hold your hand, its eyes once again angry. In a practised sequence the horns and wings disappear, then the body, hands and face turn more human.

“Bucky?” Your surprise makes him look away from the scratches. His eyes still red, he blinks and you’re greeted by the familiar azure.

“I’ll make him pay.” He assures, before the tendrils wrap around him, his hands begin to disappear.

You panic again, “No!”

“What is it?” His voice sounds irritable.

“I,” you swallow before meeting his hard gaze, “I wanted to say thank you for answering my call…”

“Your call?” He snorts, you feel his hand better again, “I’ve been trying to find that demon, he’s fucking up all my plans. Made a mess in hell. You think I would answer a mortal’s call? Isn’t that what your almighty above is for?” He sneers, thumb tracing delicately over the scratches a stark contrast to his words.

You watch as they fade, “Oh, well, thank you for um, getting rid of it?” you change the words around. He rolls his eyes.

He stands creating distance between the two of you. 

“Don’t do anymore seances.” He warns, his demonic form taking over yet again before he disappears.

As Bucky stands before the bound demon, he raises his hand and forms a fist. The demon cries out in pain as all three hooked fingers on each of its four hands are crushed.

“You do not touch what is mine. You do not scare what is mine.” Bucky speaks calmly but his threat is clear.

“I’m sorry, Sire. My King I didn’t know that stupid mortal was your plaything–,”

The click of Bucky’s tongue has the demon cower back, the circle engraved onto the ground would not let the creature escape.

“You do not insult what is mine.” Bucky inhales, then closes his eyes, smiling as the demon’s pained screams surround him.

Days later Bucky watches as you go about your day, he’s noticed how you look at your bracelet with a sense of longing. Each time you do, there is a soft tug on the chains on his end. He was surprised when the other demons and creatures could not see the chains. It appeared only you and him could see them.

He follows you around, when one of your co-workers gets a little too close and reaches for your shoulder his unheard to you growl has the man retract his hand. You tilt your head as the co-worker scurries away. Bucky looks down at himself in disgust, what kind of human emotions was he resorting to, jealousy? He glares at you now and claws at the stupid chain around his neck. 

When you return home, you squeak in response to seeing him lounging on your bed, legs crossed and arms behind his head. A pleasant yet devilish smile on his features. If he was stuck with you might as well have some fun.

“What are you doing here? Another demon escaped? Is Cerberus not guarding properly?” You set your bags down on the table.

He chuckles, “It's cute you think I have a pet dog.” 

“What are you then? A cat person–creature?” You correct yourself, trying not to laugh at his exasperated look.

Blue eyes narrow and then rake over you, he did like the outfit. Your leggings tempt him to tear them away. One of his tendrils wraps around your ankle caressing it. You look down at it.

“Bucky, why are you here?” 

The tendril moves higher, wrapping around your thigh.

“You didn’t thank me properly the other night.” He reprimands you, more tendrils superimpose the earlier one, you’re lifted off the floor and brought to him.

“I said thank you.” You tug at the hold on your hands.

“Hmm, I’d prefer if you thank me by getting on your knees.”

“I’m not–,”

“You know I can feel you because of these?” The chains appear then, then fade away, “Every little emotion that overtakes you,” He levitates to meet you above your bed, “Your joy, sadness, pain,” his eyes move to your bare forearm, “Even your arousal.”

Your chest tightens and your clit pulses at his words. He licks his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the pink flesh. Teasing you. 

“Just as right this moment, she misses me doesn’t she?” Bucky chuckles as he feels your arousal permeate through his own body. He cups your mound, warmth seeping through your clothes, the tendrils make you grind against his palm. 

You whimper, trying to close your legs.

“Admit it.” He urges, the tendrils tear apart your top, your bra tattered too, his tongue swirls against your nipple and you feel it circle your clit too, you cry out.

“Admit it, Doll.” He moves to the other, hardening it into a peak as well.

He rises above you, tendrils supporting you, your hands behind your back making you assume a kneeling position. You’re face to face with his cock, leaking precum. Your body thrums in remembrance. 

“Admit it and you can have anything you want.” He cups your cheek, pushing away the stray locks. 

“Want you.” You lean into his touch.

“Open your mouth, Doll.” 

Your lips part, Bucky traces your bottom lip with his tip then sinks into your mouth inch by inch. You moan around him, his hand grips your head. 

“Breathe, Doll. Taking me so well. So pretty with your mouth full.” 

“You better keep that jaw slack, Doll. Gonna fuck your pretty face and then I’ll fill you up.” He promises, “Now,” He grunts as he thrusts and guides your mouth over his thick and veiny cock, “Remind me once we’re done to ask you about the little thought you had about my demon form.”

Your eyes widen, your body betrays you gathering more arousal over your folds. Bucky laughs. He guides your head over his cock, “Fucking velvet, so good. Fuck.”

He pulls out completely, “Oh, I’ll fuck you in my demon form too.” For a moment he morphs into his demon form, his cock thicker that your thumb and fingers wouldn’t meet wrapped around his cock. 

You swallow at the size of him, “It won’t, it won’t, um, fit.” Your voice a rasp, his thumb traces your bottom lip.

“It will fit, you were made for me weren’t you?” He questions, ignoring as the chains glow.

You nod, the two of you are turned, he slides his cock over your folds, the more prominent veins rub over your clit and folds you jolt under him. He morphs into his human form, repeating the movement, drawing out the same response. 

“Oh I’ve missed this pretty pussy wrapped all around me.” He taps your clit with his cock, making you shudder. 

Your hands grip his arms, Bucky sinks into your waiting pussy, both of you moan in unison. Your walls pulse around him. The chain from around his neck fades away as he begins to thrust into you. 

One leg around his waist the other thrown over his shoulder he sinks deeper, you cry out as each thrust is against your gspot, he builds your orgasm, his mouth around your nipple and one tendril tweaks the other. You feel his tongue flick your clit as well, all in tandem with his thrusts. 

Your lips part in a plea of his name as pleasure floods your senses and you arch off of your bed, against Bucky. Your nails rake down his chest, marking him. He hisses.

Your walls spasm around him, coating him in your cum. He smirks as you thrash in his hold, he doesn’t allow you respite, repeating the same movements sending you barrelling into your second orgasm. Tears brim over your eyes, down your cheek to your neck. 

Bucky lets go of your nipple, licking your sweet sweat-slicked skin and moaning at the taste of your pleasured tears. 

“So good, Bucky–,” Your words cut off by a cry as you’re turned, now on top of him, his cock buried deeper, your arms reaching for his shoulders. Bucky watches as you meet his eyes with glazed over eyes, he cups your cheek. Leaning in he kisses you, bruising the tendrils and his grip on your hips guide you over him. 

The tendrils tug and pull at your nipples, “One more sweet Doll, so fucking pretty, such a good girl aren’t you?”

You nod through the pleasured haze, “Your-yours,” You sob as his thrust is deep. Pleasure blooms like hellfire from your toes to your head.

“Mine, all mine.” He growls nipping at your flesh. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky–,” Your third orgasm shatters through you, “Fill me up!” You cry out. 

Bucky gives a few more hard thrusts before he moans your name, his cum coats your walls, you slump against his broad chest, sniffling as the aftershocks run through you. 

“You’re still milking me, Doll.” He groans as your pussy clamps around him, keeping him inside you. Taking all of his seed. 

You only hum in response, your head nuzzled into his chest. Taking in his scent your hands tracing over him lazily admiring him. 

“You’re pretty, both forms.” You whisper, he laughs.

“I belive I’ve fucked you stupid.” He declares making you frown. Pulling away to look at him.

The urge to quell your sadness overtakes him,

“Doll.” He warns. This, what the fuck was all this emotion?

“I said you’re pretty.” Your index finger presses to his chest.

“Find a better word than pretty.” He bargains.

“Can’t think too much cum.” You shrug, if he could act coy so could you.

“Is that right?” He raises a brow, “Too bad, I wanted to go a few more times.”

“Hmm, I do have to thank you properly.” You agree with him, “So are you a demon or a devil?” You ask, holding onto him as you’re turned again laying on your back.

“Pillowtalk? Buy a devil dinner first.” A tendril tugs on your nipple and you swat it lightly.

“A few minutes more.” You pet it, Bucky blinks at your actions.

“What? I don’t have any pets of my own.” You shrug the tendril wraps around your wrist, you smile.

Bucky shakes his head, after round two, he’d leave. Create distance again. 

He could not have your emotions meddle into him. 

He is ruthless, calculative. 

He is cunning. 

He takes what he wants; he cares for no one but himself. 

A king of Hell.

When you fall asleep, he gently moves away from you. 

The tendril you petted pulls the blanket on you better. Bucky stares at it, hands on his hips.

“What part about no attachments isn’t understood?” He whispers. The tendril turns towards you then back at Bucky. “We are not involving ourselves with a human.” He warns the tendril.

The tendril points to your bracelet. As if to say we’re already involved. 

“Just, open the damn portal.” Bucky huffs, as he descends into his realm, he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest and the way your hand sleepily seeks him out, you shifting closer to his residual warmth.

Present.

Warmth floods you at the memories. 

It had been three weeks since his last appearance. Your legs begin parting under the table, the familiar tendril stokes your inner thighs and the remaining drag your lehenga upwards. 

You shut your thighs, pushing the fabric down. 

That blue and red eyed menace. 

“Still three chains?” Your grandmother tuts, your eyes snap to her. 

“I, it’s just been five months—,” Shaiyana stutters, her blonde highlights flailing around her, “It takes time…”

‘Hmm, we’re down to one chain, Doll.’ Bucky’s deep baritone whispers against your earlobe; you feel his teeth graze your flesh. You shudder; he isn't actually here. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, this is one of his horny tricks. 

“Stop it.” You whisper, his lips ghost over your neck. 

‘I quite like the neckline of this outfit, your chest looks fantastic and this skirt, hmm, could bend you over and just—,’

“Bucky.” You chastise, reaching for your bracelet, the thin gold chain appears and you yank it. 

Bucky’s arm tugs him sideward on his throne. He grasps his end of the shared chain and yanks it as well. 

His court of demons stare at him. Silence takes over the court. 

“What are all of you looking at? What's next I don’t have all the time in the underworld.” He roars at them. 

They look at him and then scutter about before resuming the arguments. 

As a result you knock into the waiter putting the entrées onto your cousin brother’s plate, “I’m so sorry!” 

“I’m not.” Your cousin beams as more food is dropped onto his plate, “These are my fave chicken tikkas.” 

‘Where is my apology Doll?’ Bucky asks, you swat at the tendril on your knee. 

“Y/N?” Your aunt looks at you with a raised brow.

“Oh just a fly.” You swat the other tendril you feel. You glare at the tendrils, they know you mean no harm.

‘You’re being a brat.’

“You were supposed to be here, we had a deal.” You remind him, trying not to let the disappointment get the best of you. 

‘First explain about the chains. Also, I’m busy ruling.’

“You need to be here to ask grandma about it. And stop trying to demon mode sex if you’re so busy ruling a part of hell.” You grit out in a whisper.

“Who needs to ask grandma what?” Your grandma eyes you from where she stands coming to greet everyone at the table. 

“Um just about the ch-,” Bucky’s ring circles your clit, “ah-chains.” You grip the seat of your chair cheeks heating. Oh this little devil of yours is going to pay. 

‘It's cute how you think you can get revenge on me. You're getting tied up today, Doll.’ Bucky warns, all traces of him disappearing. 

“Well?” Your grandmother asks yet again. 

“Why do the chains—,”

“Grandma, if you could just see how good we are together.” The apple of everyone’s eye pleads cutting you off. 

Your cousin brother mimics her whining, the cousins at your table suppress a laugh but giggles escape.

Your aunt shushes everyone.

“The chains are important dear. They tell everything.” She pats her head and then turns her eyes to the empty seat next to you. You wince. Her questioning came from her astute intuition. 

“He’s preoccupied.” You answer, “Meetings, on his way though.” 

She eyes you warily but moves on from your table. 

You slump in your seat. You meet the gaze of your parents and they are disappointed. For an open minded desi family they are disappointed in the lack of presence of your love life compared to your cousins.

What would you tell them? 

A devil creeps into your bed every few weeks? 

That you wish he would stay? 

That you googled how Persephone went to Hades just to know if it's viable for you to move there to hell? 

You’ve laughed to the point of tears over this situation. You could only hope the lesser number of chains meant he would be freed. 

Your theories of the chains fading because of sex was disproved earlier, the second only faded when he had appeared at the club your friends had dragged you to, where you got sick, the nausea from those weird mocktails and greasy food hadn’t agreed with your system. 

All you remember from that night was Bucky carrying, well flying you home after your friends had disappeared with their various hook ups. You had woken up to him scowling at you all while thrusting tylenol, water and then your favourite food in your hands. 

You didn’t think a devil would or could lecture you about parties, but there he was, eyes flickering between red and blue. Voice switching between demonic and human. The tendril you had befriended first had wrapped itself around your wrist offering comfort and Bucky glared at it.

“You cannot possibly think she isn’t to be told off.” He stares at the tendril.

It raises its body then lowers it like a shrug.

“Oh, alright, hm what if she got hurt?” He pauses then, masking his worry with ire.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.” You look up at him, doe eyed. He inhales then exhales. The worrisome thought crosses his mind yet again. You feel his worry in your chest.

“I was not worried.” Bucky yells, voice fully demonic, you look away from him. His gaze softens.

He cups both your cheeks, “You need to be careful. We don’t know what these chains mean, I try to keep myself out of trouble too. You need to do the same, Doll.” It was the first time he used your nickname without a sexual context.

You both had watched then how the chain undid itself from around his right wrist. 

Something in Bucky’s chest cracks, he swiftly ignores it. The little pang of worry that he may lose you sooner rather than later. 

The hall doors swing open murmurs break out in their presence. You’re pulled out of your thoughts. You watch as Bucky walks in, crossing the threshold that held sacred verses over it with ease. Your jaw drops at his navy traditional sherwani attire. There are intricate velvet patterns on it that give it a raised emboss look. He dressed like that one Indian Film actor did in that one movie that you can no longer recall. All other images gone from your brain apart from this one.

The women of the family all turn to look at you. The chain speaking for Bucky and you before you could. Your grandmother takes your name as she eyes Bucky. He smiles at her. You stand walking to meet him halfway.

“I apologise for the delay, Grandma.” He takes her hand kissing the back of it. Her eyes narrow between the two of you.

“One chain?” She questions.

“We wanted to ask you about that–,”

“After the festivities. Enjoy the dinner, James.” She cuts you off then moves to her original table.

He raises a brow but only gives her a half smile. Bucky turns to you. 

“You like?” He winks, admiring the way your cheeks heat.

“I-, you came?” You ask, Bucky hides his own mirth at the happiness blooming in your heart replacing the earlier loneliness he could feel.

Bucky wants to say something else, you feel his hesitation, “We had a deal.” He runs his hand through his hair, his ring gleaming in the light.

“Let's meet your parents.” He suggests taking your hand and leading you to their table.

The lies flow easily from Bucky’s mouth.

Who is he? 

How the two of you met? 

What does he do with his free time? 

He even has pictures of his white fluffy cat on his phone– Alpine. You raise a brow.

“Cats are nice, misunderstood but nice.” He whispers, his lips brush over your earlobe, “You better not forget what your punishment is,” One arm moves to rest across your chair, his other rests on your thigh. The tendrils begin to work their way up again. 

Bucky’s face is inches from yours, you look up at him. He smiles at you.

“Smile.” He says, you blink, “Smile, Doll.” The tendrils tickle your side, you giggle and the flash occurs. Bucky’s smile widens, taking over his face at the sound of your laugh.

Your younger cousin hands you the polaroid, it's still developing as you lean closer to him.

Your breath ghosts over his neck, “My little devil,” you giggle yet again as you feel his irritation, 

“I’ll show you what’s little–,” He takes a sharp breath when you tug his earlobe and kiss the spot on his neck you had discovered the third time he slept with you.

“As I was asking, will you be in the picture?” 

He sighs exasperated, your questions about all of this ranged from actually fun to answer to can he shut you up in creative ways using his mouth, fingers or cock?

“I’m not a vampire.” He shakes his head, the arm resting across your back softly traces over your arm.

“Hmm, cranky like a hungry one.” You tease.

“Well I haven’t eaten my favourite meal in days. I could eat and no one would know, well if you keep quiet, Doll.” His eyes switch colours, darkened with red rims.

Your brows furrow as you spot a bead of sweat. Before you can stop yourself you wipe it from his temple.

“This sherwani is warmer than I anticipated.” He brushes it off, the waiters place food on Bucky’s plate as well. You don’t look away from him.

“Is it the scriptures?” You ask, he chews the kebab then nods, eyes shifting to the books kept.

“You all prayed before this, correct?” 

“I’m sorry, Bucky I didn’t realise it would be more than what is comfortable, do you want to go outside?” Your hand is placed on his chest.

He licks his lips, “Let me eat my dessert, it's a sin.”

“Are you sure it will help?” Were you actually considering this?

“Hey man, it's so nice of you to come down, she was getting all lonely staring at her phone.” Your cousin interrupts the conversation. 

“Ah yes I was texting her minute by minute.” Bucky nods, you want to laugh. 

You didn’t even have his number. 

“So what do you do?” Bucky questions your cousin. Your mind blanks momentarily as you feel Bucky’s lips ghost along your inner thigh. 

Your cousin replies but you hear nothing, you feel Bucky’s tongue delve through your folds. You grip his hand resting on your thigh. 

‘Not a sound, Doll.’ He warns, ‘So fucking sweet. All for me.’

His moan reverberates against your core, you bite your lip as you feel his fingers delve into you. Thick digits curving deliciously. You reach for the glass of water, your fingers clamp around it as you feel yourself stretch around his ring. 

‘Could stay between your legs for aeons, Doll.’ 

You feel him suck on your clit and you whimper, Bucky next to you presses his lips to your temple. Grounding you. 

‘You love it when I get like this, taking you apart then putting you back together.’ 

His movements gain pace, sweet oblivion within reach and he stops. Your lehenga righted and he kissed your temple again. 

“Seems like we aren’t the only sinners here.” He murmurs. You look at Shaiyana and her partner. The chains are down to two from three. Her hair dishevelled. 

You glare at Bucky. 

“Oh, no this is part of the punishment.” He grins. 

“Bucky.” You all but whine. 

“Needy little Doll aren’t you?” He whispers, “For each orgasm I deny I’m going to reward you.” 

Around you both dinner continues, Bucky teases you relentlessly during the entire time. Thoroughly enjoying the way you squirm for him. Turning into his needy little mess. His greedy little, Doll. 

The fifth time he edges you. You can’t take it, you know distance doesn’t matter he can always use his powers on you. You still excuse yourself from the table, heading to the washrooms. Your cheeks warm, flushed because of Bucky. You fix your dupatta’s draping in the mirror. 

“You have got some nerve.” Shaiyana observes exiting the stall. 

You raise a brow. 

“Oh come on your boyfriend suddenly appears just as I debut mine and one chain? How many times has he fucked you?” She turns to face you. 

“They don’t disappear just because of sex…” you trail off. 

“Oh please, Grandma’s rules clearly state about bonds and binds. How they forge forever and how they break.” She scoffs, flipping her hair back. 

“Shaiyana, how does the bond break?” You swallow, wondering if it is what you wanted, to lose Bucky. 

She looks back in the mirror meeting your gaze through it, “Finally you’re away from, Sire.” 

Her eyes turn fully black, no whites nor her dark brown irises visible. You take a step back. 

“You have him distracted. We don’t like distractions. The only thing good about you? Your mortality.” Her voice haunts you, gooseflesh raising across your skin. 

“He won’t appreciate you hurting me.” You warn, moving towards the bathroom door. You try not to let fear consume you. 

You try to reach out to Bucky through the bond. You feel nothing. 

Shaiyana cackles, “Aw, he isn’t your knight in shining armour.” She steps closer towards you. Her voice is akin to chalk screeching against a board.

You look at the bracelet, the chain does not manifest. You look back at your cousin just as her hand comes in contact with your cheekbone. The force of it pushing you against the granite counter, you groan as the corner hurts you.

Bucky’s brows furrow, you aren’t back yet. The side of the bond that allowed him to reach you was subdued. He walks up to your Grandma, she turns sensing him. 

“I see your curiosity cannot wait.” She smiles standing up, he offers her his hand. She grasps it, leading her towards the balcony. His gaze everywhere trying to find you. 

The tendrils move along the edges of the room, taking over the venue to find you. 

“How did you know my name?” He questions her, there is a thrum around her, iridescent old magick exuding from her aura. 

“I know quite a bit about the demons and Kings of Hell, boy. What I should be asking is what made you choose a mortal?” She raises a brow at him. 

“I didn’t know about the curse until the binds—,”

“You know what I mean.” She gives him a knowing look, “You do know before the binding you were asked if you will explore this with her.” 

Bucky looks out onto the city lights. He remembers the ancient words, he remembers his affirmative reply. He wanted you. Then reality seeped in. Bound to a mortal? Bonds that work across realms? Forcing himself to not seek you out for two months.

He looks back at her, “She was not supposed to become more.”

“And now? You want to break it?” Your grandmother watches him.

“What do the chains mean?” He questions.

Unease trickles across him as the tendrils return with no news. He looks at her. She senses his emotions.

“I have to find her.” Bucky returns to the hall then out into the hall.

He frowns, there was a corridor to the bathroom here why can’t he see it?

“You’re going to break the spell you have on our Master.” Shaiyana’s nails dig into your cheeks. The water overflowing from the taps, the cold seeps into your back. She was slamming your hand into the floor trying to get the bracelet to break. 

There was something possessing her. You had to do something.

“I didn’t!” You cry out in pain that breaks across your knuckle. Moving up your palm. 

“He keeps visiting this realm. He tortured demons over you. His own kind.” Shaiyana snarls and you feel the sting of a slap. 

“He wants the bond gone.” She tells you. Your tear stained eyes meet her obsidian ones.

“How to break it?” You ask, “Did he send you?” 

She smiles, “He did, oh you fell in love? You fell for the King? You, a mere mortal? Be worthy of him?” She laughs. 

In her distraction you begin to pray, she takes her hands away as if burned by your skin. You push yourself away, slipping as you make your way to the door. Shit, shit, shit.

Shaiyana stands again, you pray again, slamming your hands against the door hoping someone would hear you. “Bucky!”

“Stop calling his name!” She warns moving closer to you.

Bucky hears a thump, he turns to the seemingly placed wall. He places his palm on it. It scalds his flesh. His eyes turn red. A seal placed upon the door. He presses both palms to the wall. 

It begins to give way, he hears your pained cry of his name. 

“Doll!” He calls out.

“Bucky!” 

The tendrils slither through the cracks, the seal was drawn outside the door. As the tendrils latch onto it, “Get away from the door!” He yells. You step back, pausing the prayer. Shaiyana yanks you back by your hair.

The door burns as Bucky steps through it. The flames disappear, behind him the cream coloured door now blackened. He stands there anger coursing through his veins. The image of him right now exudes power. 

You whimper as Shaiyana smiles up at him, her nails digging into your scalp, “I did as you said, Sire. The way to break the bond? Break the bracelet or kill her.” She adds.

“When did I place such a command? Are you trying to overthrow me?” He raises a brow, “Release her.” 

“Bucky break it–,”

“No.” He cuts you off.

“I fear it is worse than we thought. He cares for her.” She taps her foot thrice.

A portal opens beneath the three of you. Bucky sends the tendrils forth to break your fall. He switches to his demon form. The tendrils pull you to him. Tucking you to his side. He snarls at the demons gathered around. Shaiyana lays on the ground, unconscious. 

“You have to make a choice, Sire. A bewitching mortal or your duty as King.” The demon that was possessing her procures a blade. Your eyes widen. 

Your hand grips his forearm, he looks down at you, “They would kill you?” 

“They wouldn’t dare.” He looks back at the demons.

“Bucky, let me break it.” You plead.

“Why? Do you not want–,”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I won’t.”

The glimmer of the blade shines through the fires burning, you do the most mortal thing Bucky expects. Covering his form with yours, “Are you insane?! I need you alive!” He yells.

The blade is stopped by his hand. It burns his flesh.

“What is this sacrificial human bullshit? You do not die for love! Be selfish! Stay alive damn it.” He yells, throwing the blade back at the demon. His wings expand, covering the two of you and Shaiyana from the blades and hexes that are sent your way.

“But–,”

“No. I don’t want the bond to break. Do you know I was asked before the binding. If I wanted this? I agreed.”

“Then why were you gone?” You demand, the tendrils begin to branch out. 

He raises the cracks in the ground. The demons around you stop their attack. All pausing because of the sigils made into the ground.

“I wanted you, Doll. Do you see this? The insubordination?” He glares at all the demons, he turns back to his human form.

“I kept a watch on you. I wanted to know what the chains meant. I dived into research but this is heirloom magick passed down between generations. Not kept in any scripture.” He explains, you blink several times.

“Wait, you said love?” You ask him, he stares at you.

“Just, just sit here and do not look at or touch anything.” He makes you sit on his throne before stepping away. 

“Bucky?” 

He turns back to look at you.

“I don’t want the bond to break too.” Your words make him smile, the familiar tendril wraps around your wrist.

The gold chain around his left wrist disappears, in its place a gold chain bracelet remains. 

The two of you share a look, the bond thrums steadily between the two of you. 

“Now let me go take care of these fools before I return to have you ride me while I sit on my throne.” He winks at you before turning yet again.

Your grandmother looks at Shaiyana asleep on the couch of the hotel lobby, then you, then Bucky. 

“She was possessed?” Your Grandma questions. 

Your devil and you nod.

“She was taken to hell?” 

The devil and his human nod again.

“You both verbalised not wanting the bond to break?” 

You both nod yet again.

“I see. Well I’m not going to deal with the six month crap Demeter had imposed.” She stares at Bucky.

“She’s free to travel realms.” He answers, thumb stroking over your hand.

“Hmm, trust the one who loves horror to snag a devil.” She teases you, “Alright now head on home. I’ll get someone to help with her.” Your grandmother heads back to the banquet hall.

Bucky chuckles, lips pressing to your temple. You close your eyes, when you open them you’re back in the throne room.

“I have to reward you.” He says sitting down on his throne, the tendrils help your lehenga bunch around you as you straddle him, his length pressing to your core.

“That you do, my little devil. My King.” You nip at the skin of his neck, he growls hands gripping your hips.

“Doll.” He warns, moaning as you grind against him.

“Yes?” You continue tracing your lips over his flesh leaving your own little marks upon him.

“After what you achieved today, exposing those who stand against me? You’re going to make a fine Queen and your first order of business?” He lifts you up, clothes melting away from your bodies, slowly he guides you down on his hard length. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you moan against his lips.

“You are to scream your King’s name, my Queen.” He tugs on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply, as he pulls away, “Did you know ancient heirloom magick is one of the strongest forms?” 

You feel so full, the tendrils tease your nipples, “Bucky–,”

“I sensed the magick in you the minute I saw you.” He raises you and has you slide down on him again, controlling your movements. 

You meet his eyes, they have red rims around the darkening irises. Bucky smirks, as he brings you closer to him. Your clit grinding against his trail of hair. You moan, he grasps your chin. 

“You and your magick are both to be mine.” He kisses you then as you feel yourself fall backward, landing on a soft mattress, Bucky’s hands move over your skin. From your hips over your sides one hand remains around your neck, the gold chain of his bracelet gleams. 

“All of it was for the magick?” You rasp, he studies your features. 

He thrusts into you, your walls quiver around him, “Always so fucking beautiful and tight, such a good girl for me.”

Your nails leave little indents into his biceps, “James, answer–Oh–,” 

You moan as his tip brushes over the spot that sparks the pleasured waves to thrum through you.

“All of it,” He thrusts into you deeper, rutting against you, your legs wrapping around him tighter, “Was for you, Doll.”

AN: i never thought i'd get to writing a part 2 for this one shot but here we are, i'm quite proud of it and i hope you enjoyed reading!

Permanent Bucky Taglist: @slutforsexyseabass

[fitgothgirl]

[Just sorting some thoughts about barbacking/bartending as a second job]

Ever since I refreshed my resume and printed out some copies to go give out at bars, I haven't done anything with them; they're still just sitting in my drawer. I often think about how I should make a plan to go out and apply but I haven't been able to follow through (and btw, going out in-person and giving someone my physical resume, and even being ready to possibly do a working interview, is the way to go for this type of job - at least with the types of bars I'd want to work at; not looking for chains like Dave & Busters and whatnot).

But yeah I'm honestly nervous for a few reasons... For one, just the putting yourself out there part. 😅 Two, getting a second job as an actual employee, as opposed to Doordash, is a much more of a commitment. I can't just decide to not work one day. I'm sure that at times I'm going to have to work when I feel shitty. I'm going to struggle to get dates off that I want, and I'll likely be most in-demand on the days I have off from my regular job (the weekend, holidays). Etc. Plus the whole "second" job thing in the first place... But my situation is what it is. And not only is it a commitment, but three, I'd be going back to a service job for the first time since I graduated college, i.e. 7 years ago. I did do admin/front desk stuff at the physical therapy place, but that's pretty different. But in my teens and early 20s, I did 10 years of jobs in food service and retail, so I definitely remember a lot of what the deal is. I know there are things I enjoyed and even miss about it, but I definitely remember the stressors and tribulations too. But at the same time, four, I feel like working at a bar is getting into a slightly different/adjacent industry; it's on another level than just "food service" and there's definitely going to be a learning curve, especially if I'm wanting to eventually bartend. (🤑) Not to mention that regardless, it's been 7 years since I've done a service job in the first place, and I'm sure things work differently overall now. Also part of the adjustment would be that five - even if I just work 1 or 2 days a week, the hours will be late. I don't mind being up late, but I know I'll have to take it into consideration with my day job and everything. Even if I work Friday/Saturday night, it'll still affect my sleep.

I'm not trying to talk myself out of it, I swear lol. In fact it's kind of a testament to me legitimately being drawn to this industry, but not even because I like to drink (regardless, I can't imagine doing a fast-paced/flow job like this with even a buzz); like I said there are things about the service industry I miss, like how good it feels at the end of of a shift from a physical job. I really feel like I worked. And it can be fun a lot of the time too; it's overall more casual and light-hearted. Etc. I've just always been interesting this type of job. I love watching Bar Rescue lol, which definitely shows a range of situations.... I love the thought of learning cocktails and how to pour (and maybe some cool moves? lmao) - just general mixology. I love the energy of the environment and the vibes, I really feel like I soak it up even though I'm definitely an introvert; high-energy environments like that can be like a stimulant for me (up to a point of course). I love the fact that it's an adults-only activity to let loose - exactly the things you're not supposed to talk about at "regular" jobs or even pretend you don't do lol. I love the thought of getting to just be myself and not worrying about being all proper/professional in most ways.

Aafs;ldjk;asjfkajsd. Just letting the thoughts flow right now, not trying to come to any sort of conclusion.

My car's registration is due the day after tomorrow and boy that is a great reminder for all of this lol......

[overdueforarevival]

Whumptober Day 8 - Too Young To Know It Gets Better

Sleep Deprivation | 'leave the lights on'

Summary: Omega's been back from Tantiss for three weeks, Hunter has had his little girl home for three weeks. Surely everything should be fine now and they should all be moving on. And yet, Omega still can't shut her eyes without seeing it all flash through her mind.

Also posted on AO3

It’s been three weeks since Omega found her brothers again on that moon over Ryloth. Three weeks since hearing Hemlock’s voice, three weeks since seeing his face looming over her. Three weeks since the darkness, three weeks since the tests, three weeks since Tantiss, three weeks, three weeks, three weeks. It feels like just yesterday and Omega can still hear Hemlock’s voice in her ear, still see his face in front of her. It always seems dark now and the coldness in her bones won’t leave. She’s frozen through and nothing can thaw her out.

Omega doesn’t sleep anymore. She tries, of course she does, sleep is all she wants right now. To disappear into the sweet oblivion of rest and wake up to her brothers and find out that everything was just one awful bad dream. But that doesn’t happen. When Omega does fall asleep, she sees her brothers on Tantiss, chained next to Crosshair and screaming for her to save them, but she can’t. She can never save them.

On the really bad nights, Omega can see Tech in her dreams. They’re falling together, careening through the sky and hurtling towards the ground and he’s smiling at her. It’s a twisted thing to look at, even in life Tech never quite learned how to smile. But he smiles at Omega and there’s blood dripping from his mouth, running down his cheek from the gash on his temple. His goggles are cracked and a shard of glass pierces his eye, his left arm is bent awkwardly, his ribs are sticking out of his armour.

‘Plan ninety-nine, Omega,’ he says every time. Over and over and over. ‘Plan ninety-nine… Plan ninety-nine.’ Over and over and over again. And then…

‘You didn’t come back for me,’

‘You left me behind,’

‘You abandoned me,’

Omega feels sick every time she wakes up, her skin crawls with shame and she curls over herself, crying softly into her arms. She can’t tell Hunter any of this, can’t bear to put anymore on his shoulders when he already looks like a man cursed to carry the weight of the world. In all of her time on Tantiss, she never considered that he might have changed. Whenever she imagined coming home, it was always to the same family but they aren’t the same. Everything is different. Hunter most of all.

He’s always been their rock, the one to fix everything and the one to tell them it will all be okay when it feels like nothing will ever be okay again. Everybody has relied on Hunter at some point but now Omega thinks that he might just crumble. Everything is falling apart and Omega isn’t sure there is anyone or anything that can ever make this better.

Hunter is taking first watch tonight, sitting on the ramp of the ship to keep an eye out while Crosshair and Wrecker head to bed. Omega was tucked in an hour ago, Hunter brought her up and kissed her gently on the head, pulled the blanket up to her chin and wished her sweet dreams. All the while, he smiles at her, the smile he reserves for only her but his eyes are dead. There’s a deep seated exhaustion there she doesn’t think he realises everyone else can say.

Cross and Wrecker don’t go to bed, though. Omega can hear them talking below her, voices hushed so the Sergeant can’t hear. At least, Crosshair tries to speak quietly while Wrecker, as ever, struggles to maintain a low volume.

‘What's wrong with him?’ Crosshair hisses to his brother. There’s rustling from the bunkroom, no doubt the two stripping off their armour for the night.

‘Hunter’s fine,’ Wrecker insists. He’s never been good at lying, anyone with two ears and a few brain cells between them can see through him. ‘He’s just tired,’

‘There’s a lot more going on there than ‘just tired’. Try again, Wrecker,’ Crosshair shoots back harshly. ‘He didn’t hear me coming into the cockpit earlier, I’ve never seen the man jump out of his skin like that before,’

There’s a loud sigh and a thump, no doubt Wrecker slumping down on his bed in exhaustion. He doesn’t respond for a while and Crosshair doesn’t push him, merely waits. Crosshair has always been a patient man, but Omega isn’t and she waits with bated breath for Wrecker’s explanation.

She hasn’t noticed Hunter’s hearing; the man can hear everything, in fact she’s surprised that he hasn’t come storming up the ramp yet to tell his brothers to stop talking about him. As far as Omega can tell, he’s still sitting outside the ship.

‘He doesn’t hear so well anymore,’ Wrecker says eventually. Crosshair scoffs.

‘Not possible,’

‘How would you know? You weren’t here!’ Wrecker snaps. Omega recoils slightly, shuffling away from the curtain as though trying to avoid the inevitable backlash Crosshair will give for that. It doesn’t come.

‘I know,’ Crosshair mutters. ‘That’s why I’m asking,’

Wrecker grumbles something unintelligible and there’s a moment of silence before he decides to continue their conversation.

‘He has to concentrate now to use his senses, I think. It always looks like hard work when he does. Do you remember that time we were trapped for days in that cave. We didn’t sleep, didn’t eat for days and we could see better than him… I think it’s like that,’

‘Too much stress on his body,’ Crosshair concludes. Omega leans back against the wall, an awful feeling in her gut because she knows this is her fault. If she hadn’t let Hemlock take her, if she’d have been better and escaped sooner, been better… Hunter would be okay.

This is all her fault. She can never tell Hunter.

Hunter has always been very good at knowing when something is wrong. He knew that night that Echo wasn’t in their bunk room that he needed to find him, he knew when Wrecker wasn’t eating enough anymore after Tech’s death. Hunter always knows.

Right now, he knows that something is wrong with Omega. Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to know this after all that the girl has been through in the last year. It’s more than any child should have to endure and Hunter will never forgive himself for allowing it to happen to her. Dark bags hang under her eyes and she’s always up before everyone else and Hunter wonders if she’s even getting any sleep.

The girl can hardly walk straight anymore, she’s always bumping into things and more than once Hunter’s caught her staring blankly into space. It’s like she simply doesn’t have the energy in her body to conjure a single thought. Sometimes she’ll nap in the cockpit if one of her brothers is there to keep her company, but for the most part, it seems that she isn’t sleeping anymore.

Every night, either he or Wrecker will tuck Omega in with the promise that they’re not far if she needs them and he figured she never said anything because she’s been dead asleep, but this clearly isn’t the case. It isn’t until one night, when Hunter is lying awake in the aftermath of his own nightmares, that he hears her.

Omega must think they’re all asleep, because she moves quietly down the ladder to her room and begins creeping through the bunkroom. Hunter doesn’t make a sound until he can hear her just about to walk through to the common area.

‘Shouldn’t you be asleep?’ he asks, eyes still closed as he lays on his back, merely inclining his head a fraction towards her. Omega freezes.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ she whispers back. There isn’t really a need to whisper with only Crosshair and Wrecker around. Those two would have slept through the entire war if they were allowed.

‘Likewise,’ Hunter points out. He can hear Omega shifting on the spot, the way she does when she wants to say something but isn’t sure how to say it. ‘Come here, kid,’

Opening his eyes, Hunter pushes himself up to sit on the mattress, flipping up his pillow to rest against the durasteel behind him. He flicks the switch next to his bed so the little reading lamp in his bunk comes on, just enough that he can see Omeg’s face as she scuttles over, clambering onto his bed and tucking herself right up under his arm.

‘What’s goin’ on? You haven’t been sleeping,’ he pushes gently, nudging his shoulder against her.

‘I can’t sleep anymore,’ Omega confesses, though her eyes are beginning to slip closed as she slumps against Hunter’s side. ‘Don’t wanna dream,’

In the few years of having Omega by his side, Hunter has learned that she has a never-ending ability to shatter his heart into pieces with only a few words. If he could wrap her up in a big blanket and fix all of this, he would, but nothing can stop the nightmares. Hunter knows this only too well. There’s only one thing that has ever helped him.

‘Do you wanna talk about them?’ he asks her softly, leaning down to speak just into her ear. Omega sighs heavily against him.

‘I don’t know,’ she says. Hunter doesn’t push this time, merely allows the silence to stretch between them comfortably. He can hear her breathing easily against him, Crosshair is snoring softly across from him and Wrecker is playing games on the datapad while he takes watch in the cockpit. Hunter could sit here for years and never grow tired of the near silence. It’s everything he could ever ask for.

After everything they’ve done and everything they’ve seen, don’t they deserve this? After all the fighting and the loss, don’t they deserve their happily ever after?

He just wants his family to stay like this forever, together in peace with no wars to fight and no rebellions to win, just them. Them and the stars. That’s what Wrecker would always say in the darkest days of the war, when they were sure that they’d never see another sunrise. He’d conjure up a whole life they could have lived and everyone would listen, even if they really only wanted him to shut up.

‘I’m always alone… and it’s so dark and cold,’ Omega pipes up suddenly and Hunter has to quickly rip himself from his thoughts to pay attention. ‘At first they had me in this tiny cell, I don’t know how long I was there… it felt like years,’

Hunter squeezes Omega’s shoulder gently, giving her space to organise her thoughts but letting her know that he’s here for whatever it is she needs to say.

‘I kept calling for you… They said you were dead, that they went back and killed you all. I don’t want you to be dead,’ Omega’s voice breaks as she’s cut off abruptly by a gut-wrenching sob.

Hunter immediately pulls her closer until she’s half in his lap and clinging to his torso desperately, sobbing into his chest unabashedly. It’s not right that these awful sounds could come from someone so small, so young, and yet here they are. And Hunter can’t fix it.

He wasn’t there when Omega needed him and he’ll never live that down. But he’ll spend every day for the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

‘I’m not going anywhere, ad’ika. I’m staying right here,’ Hunter promises vehemently, cupping her head to his chest and pressing a firm kiss into the curls there. Her hair is getting so long, he’s going to have to trim it to keep it tidy now.

‘I’m sorry, Hunter, it’s all my fault,’ Omega sniffles, pushing her head further into Hunter’s chest. Hunter frowns down at her.

‘Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything wrong,’ he tells her firmly.

‘I- I don’t know,’ Omega seems to deflate next to him, like she is about to tell him something and then decides against it before she can speak. ‘Can I sleep here? With you?’

Hunter knows she’s merely changing the subject to avoid saying whatever it is she was about to. He lets her, though, if that’s going to get her to sleep. Truthfully, he was going to go offer to relieve Wrecker of his watch so he wouldn’t have to go back to sleep himself, but he can’t say no to the child next to him.

‘Always, ad’ika,’ Hunter smiles softly at her, trying so hard to make the gesture reach his eyes but they’re so heavy and he’s not sure it quite works. He doesn't think she notices.

The two settle down together on his small bunk, Omega all but melds herself into his side, resting her head on his chest and twisting her fingers into the thin fabric of his blacks. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

‘Sweet dreams, kid,’ he tells her and reaches up to flick off the lights, but Omega springs up and grabs his arm before he can. Hunter winces as she jams her palm into his diaphragm in an effort to push herself up to stop him quick enough. He hopes she doesn’t notice that either.

‘Leave it on,’ Omega whispers.

Rarely one to argue with her, Hunter nods his head and lowers his hand, using it to guide Omega back down to rest against him once more. He runs a hand up and down her back as she drifts off, swearing to himself that he’ll stay awake all night to watch over her in her sleep.

The sound of her soft breaths slowly evening out is a little too mesmerising for him and, combined with the comforting weight of her against him, Hunter struggles to keep his eyes open after a while. It isn’t long before he’s following her off into sleep, still holding her tight to his chest.

And that’s exactly how Crosshair and Wrecker find them as the sun comes streaming in the viewport the next morning and they both agree that, for once, they’ll let their sergeant sleep in while they handle the work for the day.

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Two

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~5,000

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Eva leaned over the counter with a hand pressed to her forehead. The morning brought with it nausea and cramping. Both lasted through the day and into the evening, threatening her plans for the night. The nausea, she could attribute to anxiety; the cramping to an ill timed period. Which made little to no sense, given that she was at least two weeks early and there hadn’t been a single drop of blood.

The pills from Bobbi Lynn were long gone. And, Eva guessed she was dealing with the consequences of moving on to a commercial brand. She was not looking forward to months of her body swinging wildly from one extreme to the next as it regulated her hormones.

Inhaling deeply, Eva patted her face with water and dried her hands on a towel. Then, she took a quick look at herself in the mirror.

The ochre dress still fit. In fact, it fit better than the last time she’d worn it all those months ago. She touched the deep neckline that exposed the skin from her collarbones down to mid chest. Her thumb no longer fit snugly in the hollow around the clavicle. She could no longer see the individual ridges of her ribs.

Fingers drifting downwards, Eva touched the soft swell of her breasts. They were fuller, now, peeking enticingly from behind the fabric. She turned, watching the skirt swish around her hips—they were fuller, too. So much that she’d bought new pants twice over to accommodate the curves. In the back of her mind, she could still hear Myra telling her that she looked fat, but that voice was very dim. She hoped, one day, she would stop hearing it at all.

Satisfied with her reflection, Eva sauntered into the bedroom to find Horacio trying to decide between two belts. He stared at them intently, thumbs worrying the metal buckles.

Eva smiled as she quietly observed him. He was dressed in all black—button up, slacks, leather shoes. Very Diego. She could see the gold chain around his neck flashing against brown skin. He hadn’t yet styled his hair and the curls were falling over his brow. Eva was struck anew by how attractive she found him and she wondered at how lucky she was that they were together.

She wrapped her arms around her middle to soothe a vaguely worrying cramp, saying, “The gold one.”

Horacio looked up with his brows raised.

“The gold one,” Eva repeated, “It will match the chain.”

He nodded once, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she pronounced, with confidence.

When he turned to put the other belt away, Eva was greeted with the sigh-worthy sight of his shoulders as they blocked out the entrance to the closet. Whoever tailored the shirt he was wearing deserved a medal for the way it smoothed over his back and tapered in to his waist. The material pulled ever so slightly over his bicep when he reached up to turn off the overhead light, hinting at the muscle she knew lay below.

Her hands curled into her palms and her feet moved without conscious thought. She closed the distance between them in three long steps. Horacio tossed the belt on the bed and gripped her hips in a firm hold, “You look beautiful.”

Eva started to say something pithy, like ‘this old thing?’, but the words died on her tongue. Horacio’s eyes were roving her body, lingering on the skin exposed by the neckline of her dress. Although Horacio hadn’t mentioned that her body was filling out, he did seem to be enjoying it. He pulled her closer, until the material brushed against his slacks and murmured, “I remember this dress.”

She nodded, “I brought it from Louisiana.”

Horacio hummed lowly, “I liked it in Louisiana, too.”

The memory came to her slowly. Stag Nation. The Lounge. The pool. Let me go.

As if he were remembering the moment in tandem, Horacio lifted his hand and pressed it to her sternum. His fingers spread wide, slipping underneath the fabric. The heat of his palm was nearly scalding and Eva was awash with his scent. It swirled around her, running up her nose and into her head where it demanded her attention. Tobacco and vetiver and the delicious smoke of his interest. Eva breathed deep, her chest pressing into his hand. The pressure increased on every inhale, grounding her body.

He was so close, so very present, that it almost overwhelmed her. She couldn’t look away from his face as he studied the way his hand laid atop her skin. His expression was intent and focused, on the very edge of anger. It confused Eva, and she said as much.

Horacio glanced at her, “At the party, I wanted...so much more than this.”

This was absolutely not a surprise. As naive as Eva was about who Horacio was and what he thought about her, even she could read his intent when he approached her that night. One side of Eva’s mouth lifted, “I know.”

He didn’t share her humor, “I was very close to dragging you out of the house.”

Her smirk fell, words once again failing her. An image of being thrown over his shoulder and whisked away flashed in her mind. The heat of the fantasy was visceral and real, as was the realization that it could have never happened. At least, not like that.

His grip on her waist slid around to the small of her back, “It would have been easy to take what I wanted.”

Eva gasped when the hand on her chest rotated and cupped her breast. Skin to skin, her nerves sizzled afresh. She bit her lip when his thumb rubbed back and forth over her nipple. And still, she couldn’t quite look away from his face.

He wasn’t even looking back.

All Horacio’s attention was on his hand as it caressed her. His breathing was shallow and heat wafted from him like a lit furnace. He pushed the material of her dress aside and swallowed audibly as he took in her exposed breast. Another impatient swipe and the dress dropped down to hang on her upper arms.

Eva trembled as he explored every inch of skin, groaning when he pinched a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensitive bud hardened, seeking more. Her head tipped back, giving Horacio room to lay a kiss on her neck, her collarbone, and down a winding path to meet his hand.

“I could have sucked on these all night,” he rasped as he took a nipple in to his mouth.

Eva’s hands scrambled for purchase, one carding into his hair and the other digging into his shoulder. A high, breathy moan left her lips, followed by a shorter, louder sound of pleasure.

Horacio worked his way to the other side, “I could have made you beg me for it.”

His head lifted and he kissed her hard. Eva moaned into it, the sound harsh in her ear. She clung to him, suddenly needing more than anything to have him as close as possible. Horacio obliged her, arms tight around her body.

The kiss grew frantic. Hands roamed over hard angles and soft curves. Eva arched into him, reveling in the feeling smooth silk against her breasts. She tugged at his collar, wanting more skin, more sensation, more everything.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, “Javier is on his way. We should…”

Eva took advantage of the pause in his words, cupping his jaw and bringing his mouth to hers. She coaxed a kiss from him, sucking lightly on his lower lip.

Horacio returned the kiss enthusiastically, palms squeezing her ass. “Eva,” he choked between kisses, “Amorcita, we don’t have time.”

They could make time. As far as Eva was concerned, Javier could wait on the doorstep for as long as it took to get Horacio inside her. She wanted him more than she cared about being polite.

Eva took his hand and guided it to her chest. She held it there and offered him more drugging kisses as a distraction while she walked ever so slowly backwards. When her knees hit the bed, Eva dropped heavily onto the mattress and looked up at Horacio from beneath her lashes.

He was at little bit lost. And torn. Eva knew he had a plan for tonight. That he had responsibilities that he needed to take care of. The two of them had discussed every tiny detail, worked through a thousand scenarios—all of which had the same conclusion.

Horacio had a criminal to catch.

And yet.

He took her in, staring at her like a he was dying of thirst and she was a pool of cool water. Horacio was a man who wanted to drown. Eva let him look. Let him want. Right up until she couldn’t take another second under the heat of his eyes. Eager hands reached forward, catching his waistband and pulling him down. Horacio slammed his hand down on the mattress beside her to catch his weight. His mouth met hers, following as she laid back.

He hovered over her, frame caging her in on all sides. Eva tried to get him closer, to get him to drop all that heavy weight on her, but Horacio was steadfast. He kept a few inches’ distance between them, refusing to give in.

This wouldn’t do.

Eva’s mouth veered off to the side, over the stubble on his jaw and downwards. Her tongue ran over sweet skin, swirling over a rapid pulse. She gave him no warning before she laid a hot, open mouthed kiss on his gland. Above her, Horacio shouted and the arm supporting his weight collapsed.

She took it willingly, hips opening to make room. Horacio’s chest vibrated with a groan, and Eva expected him to push into his palms, to replace the distance between them. He didn’t. Horacio let Eva fold him into her embrace, let her keep sucking a kiss to his gland. She swirled her tongue over the swollen flesh, drawing in the taste of him. His arousal was touched with frustration. And, underneath, there was the metallic iron of his will.

Horacio grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down to the bed His voice was filled with warning as he said her name. Eva could sense how close he was to breaking. Horacio might be holding her down with one hand, but the other was dragging her skirt up her thighs.  That knowledge kept the self-satisfied smile from her face. Made her work to keep upping the ante.

Eva tried to kiss him again, whining pitifully when he denied her. She wriggled on the bed, knees spreading. He squeezed her thigh before easing it to the side and tracing his fingers up to where they met her underwear.

“I’ll make you come,” he said between harsh breaths, “Yes?”

The thought was tempting, but it fell short of what Eva really wanted. Something in her body was driving her towards slick skin and burning pleasure. She wanted hours of pleasure soaked in arousal, and she knew there would be no satisfaction in a quick orgasm.

She shook her head, “Want you.”

Horacio mirrored her, “Can’t. I’m too…” he searched for the words, “tight.”

Eva squinted at him, “Tight?”

He gripped the elastic of her underwear, “Like a watch. Take these off.”

Shimmying out of them, Eva tried to figure out what he meant so that she could convince him otherwise. What did a clock have to do with sex?

“Do you mean ‘wound up’?”

A nod while he gathered her skirt up and around her waist. He took no time to press his hand against her mound, swirling the slick around. The pressure eased some of the strangely painful want in her pussy. Temporarily. With every movement, it grew wilder, blazing hot when he pushed his fingers inside.

It felt so, so good, but it just wasn’t enough.

Reaching between them, she pulled his shirt from his slacks, earning a grunt of censure from the man above her. He loosed her neck to grab for her hands, only to find that she was now free to lick the salt from the hollow of his throat.

“Eva,” he pleaded, “mi amor, I said I would take care of you.”

“Wanna take care of you, too,” Eva replied mindlessly.

“Its too much,” he breathed, “I don’t—fuck, yes, ride them.”

Eva’s hips moved in a smooth roll, sinking down on his hand with growing speed and force. Horacio helped her along, moving with her body and rubbing his thumb over her clit in a wide circle. The rhythm faltered when Eva wriggled her fingers into his slacks and gave his length a firm stroke.

His hand left her folds to grab at her wrist. Several expressions flashed across his face in such a quick succession that Eva couldn’t quite catch them. But, she definitely understood the way his eyes closed and his mouth hung open. The wet fingers around her wrist were tight, but he wasn’t stopping her hand. He let her pump him slowly, let her kiss his mouth until she was giddy with it.

“Can you,” she murmured against his lips, “put it in? Just for a minute.”

Horacio hissed, an angry sound, “We don’t—,”

“Have time,” she finished for him. “I know. Just for a minute. I wanna feel you.”

He pulled his hips back and dislodged her hand. Then, he grasped her jaw and made her look at him, “One minute. Don’t you dare fight me when I say its over.”

Eva grinned, “Do you want me to set a timer? I think there’s one in the kitchen.”

“Cállate.”

She bit down on her lower lip to suppress a giggle that would likely annoy him more. Eva was getting a little bit of what she wanted and she knew to stop while she was ahead.

Horacio pushed his slacks down his thighs and grasped his cock, lining the wet head up against her opening to make the first push inside. Eva let her hips relax, anticipating the two or three thrusts that it usually took to allow her body time to reacquaint itself with his size.

Two or three thrusts that didn’t happen.

Eva’s body welcomed him whole, and it surprised them both.

Horacio struggled to breathe. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched. For her part, Eva could only marvel up at him while her body screamed out at the rightness of it all. She still struggled to take him, felt like he was bigger than he’d ever been inside her. But, that didn’t matter. It just didn’t fucking matter.

When he caught his breath, Horacio braced himself on his forearms and looked down between them. Eva’s dress was wadded up around her waist, the sleeves caught at her elbows. Beyond the pile of fabric, she could see how their bodies fit together.

Perfect. They were perfect.

Horacio brushed the hair back from her face, “How do you do this to me?”

Eva hummed in question, distracted by the way his cock brushed up against something inside that made her toes curl. He didn’t answer. Instead, Horacio chose to lay slow, lingering kisses along the column of her neck and down her chest where he scraped his teeth over the swell of her breast.

On the way back to her mouth, his weight shifted forward and his cock sank a fraction deeper. Eva’s gasp was swallowed down by a deep, unrelenting kiss. All the while, Horacio held himself still inside her—or, he attempted to.

The longer the kiss went on, the more Eva fought to keep still so that he wouldn’t end it too soon. Her body refused to obey the commands of her mind, seeking friction on her clit. What started out as small movements bloomed into planting her feet on the mattress so that she could lift her hips against his.

Horacio’s laughter was more felt than heard, “Greedy omega.”

She shivered, “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” he said, mouthing along her jaw until he reached her gland and running his tongue over it.

Eva gasped a harsh breath and her body curled up against him. She slipped both hands into his hair to hold him to her while he sucked what would later be a hickey onto her skin.

On his way to the other side, Horacio grunted, “I’m supposed to be prepping for a tactical mission. Instead, I’m trying not to come inside a delicious, perfect omega.”

She pulled at his shirt, at the skin beneath, while he drove her out of her mind with his mouth. The fire in her belly grew brighter and hotter, drawing Eva very close to the edge. He was barely moving and she was ready to come.

Lifting up, Horacio drew in a deep breath, “Time. Time.” When Eva began to protest, he added, “I said a minute.” Then, “I’ll make sure you come, Amorcita. Don’t worry.”

“Please,” she begged, holding him by the shoulders, “Please.”

“I’ll make you feel good,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her mouth.

Eva had no doubt about that, but all she could think about the way he said he was trying not to come inside her. The words went around and around in her mind, accompanied by the heat in his tone. Bone deep instincts were begging her to act, to convince him to stay right where he was.

“I need you,” she whispered. Then, louder, “Please, alpha.”

Horacio’s expression went slack with shock. He blinked at her for several long seconds in silence, “Say it again.”

Eva touched his cheek, “Please, alpha.”

He laid his forehead against hers with a defeated sound. One by one, he lifted her legs so that they rode high on his hips. His mouth touched her lips briefly, followed by her nose, her cheek, her throat. Eva expected him to fuck her hard and deep. She expected him to channel all his frustration into explosive, powerful movement. Instead, Horacio moved slowly, gliding easily in and out of her so that she felt every inch.

Half way between one thrust and the next, there was a knock at the door. Horacio’s shoulders drooped. Still buried inside her, he blew out a disappointed breath and looked at Eva with almost a smile, “That’s Javier.”

“No shit.”

“I told you we didn’t have enough time.”

He had, and Eva was disappointed to find out that the was right.

Another knock.

Horacio kissed her briefly and eased away. Eva sat up, pressing her legs together and smoothing the folds of her dress. She was grateful that the material wasn’t prone to wrinkling or she’d have to change.

Having righted his own clothing, Horacio looked her over one more time and went to answer the door. She heard him speaking with Javier and offering a beer. While she ran her hands through her hair and touched up her makeup, they went over the plan again.

As usual, Diego would parade around town, making a spectacle of himself. Nothing different from what he’d been doing the last few weeks. Eva would tag along with him, which was also not much different.

Except…

Except, this time, Eva wouldn’t play the part of the fearful omega or the put-upon accountant. This time, Eva would play a role both familiar and alien to her.

The lover.

Eva would hang from Horacio’s arm the whole night, doing her best to show anyone who might look their way that she was infatuated with him. Not a difficult task, if she were being honest. All Eva had to do was exaggerate the way she already wanted him—which was also not a difficult task.

She could still feel him inside her, could still feel the way her pussy wrapped around his length. Her body was gently simmering, reminding her that they’d been interrupted. The idea that she might be able to draw him back into the bedroom drifted across her mind, but Eva knew that Horacio’s attention had fully shifted to the mission. It would be a waste of time to try.

God, but she still wanted him.

Eva always wanted him. She always wanted to be near him. Nothing about that was surprising. But, there was something intense about how she wanted him now. About the way she wanted him. And, the things she wanted from him. Her feelings were a jumble of arousal and frustration and something that resembled anger, but wasn’t.

She stepped into her heels and wondered if she should be worried. It almost felt like she should be.

Horacio walked into the bedroom, “Almost ready?”

“Almost,” she answered, voice high and breathy, “I just need to get my purse.” And the gun inside it.

He moved to the bed and picked up the belt he’d discarded earlier, slipping it through the loops, “Javier will drive us. He says Josh and his people have been seen at this bar a few times a week for months. If we’re lucky, he’ll get an eyeful tonight.”

At least someone is going to get lucky, Eva thought wryly as she grabbed her clutch from where it sat on the dresser. “You think he’ll start a fight, if he does get an eyeful?”

Horacio shrugged, “We’ll be ready, if he does.”

Tempted to roll her eyes, Eva turned from him to go out into the living room with every intention of having a drink before heading out. A hand caught her elbow, stopping the movement. She looked back at Horacio with a question in her eyes.

He leaned down to speak directly into her ear, voice low, “I know you’re unhappy that we didn’t…” his words trailed off. Before Eva could reassure him that she understood why they hadn’t finished what they started, he continued in a direct, raw voice, “When we get back, I’ll do whatever you want. For as long as you want.”

She believed him. She totally fucking believed him.

Not waiting for a response, Horacio ushered Eva out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room where Javier was waiting on the couch. Eva, still flustered, offered him an awkward wave and bee-lined for the kitchen to pour a glass of much needed liquor.

While she poured, the phone rang.

Horacio picked it up. The conversation was too low for her to hear, let alone translate. By the time she carried her drink to the living room, he was telling Javier that they could spare a man or two.

“What happened?”

Horacio very nearly grinned, “We found Josh’s lab.”

Eva was impressed, “That’s great news!”

A nod, “We’re sending someone to scout the area.”

“So, does that mean we aren’t going out tonight?” Eva tried to keep the hope from her voice and didn’t quite manage it.

Horacio caught her meaning, “Its better if we stick to the plan.”

Javier, seeing Eva’s pout, said, “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. And, if shit goes sideways, we have back up.”

She let him continue to think that she was worried about her performance and not put-out by the delay in fantastic sex.

“We should go,” Horacio announced, glancing at his watch.

She threw back the rest of her drink and followed the two of them to the car. Horacio surprised her by sliding into the back seat beside her. He pulled Eva against his body and laid a hand on her thigh while Javier turned over the engine and pulled out of the lot.

Eva leaned into Horacio, watching the scenery flash by in a swirl of lights. The night was warm with the first hints of summer. People were out and about, eager to blow off steam after a long work week. She could see them laughing and drinking and dancing every time Javier slowed to a stop.

Normal people doing normal things.

In the enclosed space of the car, Eva could not escape the man beside her. He was practically wrapped around her body, a few inches from pulling her into his lap. His scent was similarly all around, filling her nose and reminding her that—after weeks of restraint—Eva was allowed to touch him in front of other people.

She traced little circles over the hand on her thigh, listening to his breaths. They weren’t quite even, hitching now and again when she ran her fingers over the sensitive skin of his wrist. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Eva knew she had his attention.

The bar was packed when they walked through the doors. Horacio led her further inside with an arm around her waist while Javier dealt with the hostess. A well placed wad of folded bills got them a table in the back of the room. Eva slid into the booth, surprised when Horacio rattled off an order of drinks before she’d even settled into the seat.

She forgot that he wasn’t Horacio, now. Eva was out with Diego, and he would act accordingly. She tried to remember what Diego was like, what he was prone to do. Her memory helpfully supplied half a dozen instances where he was a complete ass. As much as she knew it wasn’t actually Diego sitting next to her, Eva wondered if she could keep her composure when he inevitably stepped out of line.

You’re overthinking it, a voice in her head prompted.

Agreeing with herself, Eva crossed her legs and tried to relax. Horacio noticed her heightened anxiety—because of course he did—and reached for her. He pulled both of her legs over one of his thighs, patting her hip affectionately. Eva giggled, feeling a bit ridiculous, but let him do as he liked.

The music was loud, making conversation difficult. Eva was glad for it. She didn’t feel much like talking. Didn’t think she could manage it when her mind was singularly focused on Horacio.

She watched him watch the room, watched the way his mouth moved when he sipped his drink, watched the way the lights flashed across his skin. Reaching up, Eva wrapped a finger around a curl that fell over his collar. He hadn’t had time to style it and she smirked when she thought about why.

Horacio caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Eva had to bite her lip to keep the moan at bay. She met his stare, letting the molten heat in it wash over her. It settled low in her gut, causing goosebumps to rise.

Eva’s world was very small for those few hours. Javier got up and circled the room now and again, but Horacio stayed right where he was—and, Eva stayed with him. She drank the fruity little cocktail he ordered for her and listened absently to the music. All the while, Eva indulged in every urge to touch and kiss and sink deep into Horacio’s warmth.

He encouraged her, taking even a light caress and turning it into something hot and lingering. His hand supported her neck while he nuzzled it, mouth rubbing over her gland.  He smirked when she moaned low in her throat and he outright laughed when she swatted at him in annoyance.

At one point, his hand dropped down beneath the table and eased her legs apart. Very slowly, he rubbed up her thigh until his fingers met her center. Horacio’s eyes grew dark when he discovered that she was still bare beneath. His mouth opened as he drew in a breath to speak.

Javier dropped down into the booth, “We got trouble.”

Horacio cut him a look, “What?”

“One of the girls says she saw Josh and a few guys circle the bar, then drive away.”

Eva felt her stomach drop, “What does that mean?”

Javier shrugged, “Means that we missed our chance tonight.”

Horacio cursed and withdrew his hand, “I want to talk to her.”

He helped her off his lap and stood. Eva scooted along with him, saying that she had to use the restroom. She would meet them by the bar when she was done. Clutch in hand, Eva sidled off to the restroom.

There was a line, which wasn’t surprising, given the crowd. Eva leaned against the wall, moving a few inches forward at a time. She kept her eyes peeled for anyone that might be out of place, that might not be who they pretended to be. Eva didn’t necessarily want to use the gun in her bag, but she was prepared to protect herself.

Once she made it into the stall, she sat down and rested her head in her hands. Nausea made itself known, and not in the way it did when she drank too much. Her belly cramped, pulling at muscle and swollen flesh. Eva tried to breathe through it, but the feeling refused to abate.

Curious, she looked between her legs to find a slow, steady drip of slick. Warm and vaguely embarrassed, she wiped at it only to find more in its place. And, with every touch, it seemed to grow. Her body bloomed with energy. Sensation zinged from her core up into her head and back down again.

She stood, one hand catching her balance on the stall door. What the fuck?, left her mouth in a whisper. At the sink, with at least a dozen women angling around her for the mirror, Eva had to rest her hand on the counter while she caught her breath. She felt like she might faint.

Omega, came a gentle voice. Omega, you need to find a safe place.

Eva looked up at the woman, barely comprehending.

Hand on her arm, she continued in heavily accented Spanish, You don’t have much time.

She couldn’t remember the words to tell her how she couldn’t understand, so Eva settled for shaking her head and making a ‘huh?’ gesture.

The heat, she said. It won’t be much longer. Do you have a safe place to go?

Eva blinked at her, mouth open in shock. She hadn’t even considered that she might have a heat, let alone planned for one. Did she have a safe place to go?

Horacio’s face drifted before her mind’s eye. His smile. His scent. His strength.

“Yes,” she said in a voice that cracked, “I have a safe place.”

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 10.b

In the twilight gloom, small, narrow eyes caught the light peered out of the neighbor’s bushes.  Watching her.

goblin?

“It’s still not going to make me a Dancer again.”

I like the capitalization here: it's not about how much physical ability to dance she regains, but that she's no longer part of the social group

“Don’t lie!” Melissa shouted.  Her eyes barely left the cigarette as her mom’s hand moved, then went back to her mom’s face, making eye contact.  “You never cared!  You never understood what I meant when I was gymnastics level four!  You dropped me off and went to get coffee most of the time!  You don’t know what I lost!  My friends dropped me and they treat me like I did something wrong!”

get this girl out of urban horror and into a sports anime

At the windowsill, a lit, uncrushed cigarette sat with the burning end just off the edge, glowing, a curl of smoke rising.

just monitoring her, or trying to get her caught? Could get her out of Kennet and no longer a problem

“We called a friend,” Lucy said.  “In Winnipeg.  Cheap apartment in an okay building.  In-house counselor.  Some friendly faces.”

Clem? I can't remember if Bristow's building was in Winnipeg, but that's the only housing connection I can think of

“They’re serious.  These are emergency plans for if they die or get kidnapped.  Treat that with the respect that it deserves.”

yeah, I get why Melissa is angry and frustrated no one will tell her anything, but it should be clear Avery and Lucy aren't fucking around with her with how serious they are. Actually, talking with Clem would probably help with the frustration, since she lived with that for decades and knows how bad getting in deeper can be.

Whatever she said next was heard by Louise, Lucy, Avery, and Snowdrop alone, because Lucy threw the cigarette down the road.  The wind picked it up, and it was carried away, through spaces that weren’t Kennet.

oh! I had assumed this was a Melissa interlude, but is it actually Cig? Is this arc going to take us through the various Kennet Others? We've already had John, and Tashlit to close out the last arc.

Good way for readers to take stock of various sides before the conflict breaks out.

He’d moved from America to Canada twenty years ago, for political reasons, and had said he wouldn’t go back until things were in a better place.

wildly curious as to what these politics are. That would be around 2000... could be response to 9/11?

“I’ve been seeing my son in my dreams,” Anthony Wenzel said.  “Was going to say it in group, but it felt stupid. Every night for almost a week.”

Carmine influence in general, or Alpeana?

Melissa waited for a bit, then scrounged under her bed. She pulled out a big blue pill bottle. “They want me to fuzz the brain a bit, forget the supernatural?” she mused, quiet.  “This could work, right?  At least my ankle won’t be twinging.” She tossed back two pills and washed them back with some water.

:|

well that's one way to deal with it

Bound and Sworn to only go after bad cops and corrupt lawyers who drink, which is most cops and all lawyers, in my frank opinion. He has to out them and dismantle the systems they’ve built on his way out.

based

“Only two.  Codeine, I think left over from her ankle.  To fuzz her Awareness and maybe let go of it.”

the question is will this work with only a couple of doses, or if she's going to be permanently keeping herself fuzzy

"Blood everywhere, more aggression.” “We were going to send the goblins out with the compasses tonight, again.”

looks like Verona hid the furs well

“I’ll go.  I’ll leave, I- I meant no insult, I-”

putting a pin in this thought:

The world of practice and Others works according to older rules and ways of viewing the world. It was brought up a few chapters before, in how many realms heavily practice slavery, and I've mentioned in how practice goes through apprenticeship chains and formal Other society functions on fealty.

Here we have it again, where this clockwork Other's response to being stopped from murdering a girl is not guilt over the murder, but worry that doing so in someone else's town is an insult to them.

“I don’t want excuses.  Or apologies.  How can we use you?  Can you find missing things?”

glad to see that losing the furs is a big problem for her

The cigarette lay there, burning in the dirt, amid candles. “Good looking out. Not a word of this to others.”

hmm, so does Cig know about the CB conspiracy? I suppose it would be hard to keep secrets from it... and Edith's wording here makes me hope that most of the Kennet Others are uninvolved

“I love stories,” the man said.  “I write, so it’s great inspiration.  I’ll pay for any you can find.  Real ones, I’ll know if they aren’t real.  Anything spooky, anything weird.”

witch hunter?

“Let him go,” Edith said.  “And very quietly, let’s warn the others who are cooperating with us.  Let him hunt the ones who aren’t.”

fuck.

I suppose that will be something to keep an eye on over the next chapters, who seems to know to be cautious.

[lostonehero]

The homoerotic nature of sharing a body has drained this chapter so it ends suddenly

That is all

Henry, if he wasn't so used to the haunted animotronics around him, would have thought the old springlock suit finally gave out, as it laid sprawled out on the ground, twisted out of shape. What surprise him was the human familiar figure, a version stuck in the age he died in floating crossed, legged above the rusted monstrosity. Straining his eyes, Henry could see white chains connecting his old friend to the scrap metal.

Henry pushed back the gnawing fear in his mind since this was during the day. He just spent too much time here. That phrase he repeated to himself ignoring the fact he knows he's on deaths door from his age alone.

Henry sighs, watching his old friend deep in thought. William still did do the same things when he was thinking when they were kids back in college. That was a lifetime and many bad decisions ago.

His attention is drawn to the many patrons of the museum. He was happy, and business was booming. Granted, William was always better at crunching the numbers and keeping them afloat.

He shook his head. He had to be in the moment no use in dwelling on what ifs. He did promise to look at the police reports for William's sake. He had to ask his nephew how he stayed so young, well looked so young, his eyes were haunted beyond his years.

Maybe he should allow himself to be selfish, just this once. He wasn't ready to die yet, and maybe he could still put up a good fight in his old bones. At least until he was sure Micheal was fine.

...

Henry frowns at the delay on his desk. His lovely stockholders have pushed back the night opening to October, six months away from his original opening date, excuses about how a haunted attraction will make the nighttime worth it. He sighs, pushing the paper away from him. At least they approved it. He hated having to get permission for his own work to open.

Henry checked his phone again, and he frowns, looking at time. It's been two days only two days since Micheal was here, two days since he thought Micheal was an imposter, two days since... he frowned.

He still hasn't gotten the reports for William. He wasn't ready himself to read them himself. How could William be ok. They both saw how much Micheal was destroyed.

Henry sighs, turning his attention to the knock on his door. The museum was open, and his workers knew only to get him for emergencies or repairs. "Well, don't just knock on my door all day."

A blonde hair man enters with one of his guards behind him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Emily he insisted that he come see you immediately." Susan was her name. She was one of his older guards, ex military, he believes.

Henry's annoyed expression melted into a smile. "Ah yes, Susan. That's Jeremy he was supposed to start next week with Micheal for the night shift. Well, you know how the shareholders are."

Susan nods. "Of course, next time, have your security pass."

Jeremy waves as she leaves.

Henry hums. "Forgive her. She has become protective over me. Jeremy, what brings you here?" Where's Micheal remains unsaid as he motions for a chair opposite his desk.

Jeremy smiles and sits, shutting the door behind him. "It's lively for being the daytime as well." He pauses. "Micheal is uh talking to some, er.... people." He waves his hands and shifts in his seat.

"Is everything ok?" Henry raises his brow.

"I'm fine, everything is fine, just dunno I just wanted... no, not the right phrase. I have to talk to you." Jeremy sighs. "It's about Micheal."

Henry narrows his eyes. "What about him?"

Jeremy bites his lip and stares at his hands. "Well, I uh... he's been through a lot, and I uh wasted to make sure that you wouldn't leave when he finally opened up."

Henry's face softens. "Jeremy, I helped raise that boy, I won't just abandon him unless my old heart gives out, then I can't really help in the matter." Jeremy likes dark humor, right? He was cheering Micheal up with that.

Jeremy smiles and looks up. "I know I don't even know everything. You can help fill in some blanks, too... but I uh just don't want Micheal to lose support."

Henry gets up and walks over to Jeremy, placing his hand on the young adult shoulder. "You truly care for my nephew, don't you?"

"I do, sir." Jeremy looks up from his seat.

"Now you don't have to tell me anything, but I want you to know that I will not hurt Micheal." Henry sighs, clutching his cane. "He's been through too much for that."

Jeremy nods. "He asked me not to say anything about anything yaknow...."

"That's ok, I'm glad you respect my nephew."

"Could you show me around? Micheal has told me a bit, and I know I used to work for you, but I want to know about..."

"Yes, I can give you a personal tour, Jeremy. It won't nearly be as eventful as the nighttime, but it will be informative." Henry smiles and opens the door. "Amd it's an excuse to leave this stuffy office. I never understood how William liked them."

....

Jeremy stops by springtrap, staring into the display. "Does it hurt?"

"A springlock failure is disastrous and extremely painful. There is almost no chance of survival, but the springs lock keep pressure, making the pain last until your final breath." He pauses. "But these were prototypes and used rarely before we figured out a more stable animotronics that didn't need a human behind it."

Jeremy shakes his head. "The chains, do they hurt him?"

Henry swallows. "What?"

Jeremy points to above the suit, where William is floating above springtrap, Lizzie is leaning against him, and Evan is in his lap.

Henry frowns. "How can you..."

"See them?" Jeremy hums, placing his hand against the glass. "I mean, I was technically dead for a bit in the hospital. I think Micheal can see them too, but he wasn't really all here when we first visited."

Henry frowns, tearing his eyes away from the scene. "I never asked him, I don't think he realizes we can see him during the day."

"Most don't." Jeremy says, humming. "So, did you two ever master the springlock suit?"

Henry blinks at the sudden change of topic. "Uh, I think springtrap is the perfect answer on how that went."

"Oh... Micheal said he wore one back in Circus Baby's." Jeremy blinks, changing his attention to the older style four. "Hey, where did you get the idea for the four of them?"

Henry opens his mouth and then closes it, Micheal wore a springlock suit? The only other one was an even earlier version, even more dangerous. It was more so a test to see how far they could test it. He didn't even think William kept it.

"Henry?" Jeremy tilts his head blonde hair moving to reveal more of his scar.

"Right, what was the question?" Henry bites his lip, focusing on Jeremy.

"The original four, how did you decide the animals?"

Henry smiles. "Now that takes me back, oh Charlie loves this story..."

Jeremy stops checking his phone. "Oh, good news."

Henry pauses, looking back. "Ah, what's the news?"

"Micheal is home. Everything went well." Jeremy pauses. "He wants to know if next week is ok to come at night. He wants to see you and his father."

Henry perks up. "Of course, you two are always welcome."

"Can we, can we continue this tour? I told Micheal I'm here, and I wanted to hear more."

Henry nods. "Of course, it's been a while since I've done the full tour. Come on, I think we're at the fun time animotronics."

.....

The night grew still. Even inside the museum, everything seemed off, out of place. Lizzie wasn't playing the piano music, and Evan's normal static was absent. It was as if everyone held their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Henry is in the center of it all holding a neutral look as he sat on his bench on his laptop. The tapping of the keys was the only thing making sound in this haunted place.

William as gently as he could put his hand on his glass. "Well?"

Henry shuts the computer, color draining from his pale complexion. "I only saw one picture, I can't go further."

William pauses. "Henry?"

"No, William, I can't." Henry bites his lip and covers his face. "Micheal was the first picture."

"Micheal? Henry, please, that's my son. I have to know."

Henry is shaking. He chokes out a strangled sob. The laptop crashes to the ground as Henry hugs his chest sobbing.

William presses what his face has become to the glass. "Henry..."

Henry can't talk. He hasn't broken down this bad since he lost Charlie. It was one photo, and it sent him over the edge.

William slid down the glass onto the floor. He wanted no need to comfort Henry. The glass was in the way. His death trap of a springlock suit was in his way, and his cold corpse was in the way. He couldn't help his partner anymore then he could help himself.

.....

Henry left without a word. He left his laptop on the ground. William stared at the futuristic piece of technology. The internet wasn't really a thing when he had working lungs. Just the sum of all human knowledge at the tip of your fingers.

He blinked, and the laptop that's what Henry called it was in his enclosure. A portable computer, imagine if they had them before. He shooks away those thoughts. Big cumbersome animotronics hands weren't made to handle delicate technology, but he had enough influence over his ghostly form to crack it open enough that he could push it open with his giant hands.

Password.

William huffed, of course, this marvelous machine would have protection. Henry was smart, and he didn't expect anything less from his better half.

William, for the most part, wasn't privy to anything of this modern world. He was stuck in a machine costume from a bygone era, pushed into terrible things from his puppeteering wife. She always knew how to control him.

Anger, he had to control his anger. He could just as easily ruin the one chance he had to outside information. One chance to see what had destroyed his partner. He took a breath for his rotted lungs and thought of meaningful dates, places, ideas, anything that Henry would use to open the gateway into his personal access to all of human knowledge.

Was there a limit on how many he could try? Did capital letters count differently than lowercase? What would be important enough to Henry to use as a password?

William huffed. He didn't have a lot of time. Once the morning shift comes, everything in his enclosure that isn't permitted will be swiftly removed and gone through. He knew the procedure by now.

A thought crossed his mind, and without realizing it, he was typing. He had little to no control over his powers, unlike the children around him. He was trapped to this rusted scrap heap and never had the chance to even see what he could do.

William blinks, and it worked. He swallows rising emotion in his shredded throat. Henry that sentimental fool. It wasn't a surprise that William would melt if Henry just....

William slammed the laptop shut, shattering the complex machines. He kept slamming his hand against the machine until it was nothing but a pile of broken parts. He let out a strangled scream, and the museum seemed to silence itself.

"Nobody is allowed, no one." He shouts, voice twisted with the audio glitching. "Don't look. Don't touch. Don't come near me."

Twisted glitches audio turned into strangled cries of anguish, as every camera in the museum broke down one by one.

...

Henry gives a glance to William. The broken laptop and the pieces that are still scattered around William remain unspoken.

William's springlock suit remains crumpled on the ground, Henry watches as William struggles against the chains that bind him. He's been at it ever since he saw the photos.

The cameras haven't been touched, the electrician has tried, but a new replacement breaks almost immediately like something is purposely not letting them work.

Henry warns them to let the spirits rest before trying. Nobody believes him. They try at night, and the repairmen run out faces paler than a drop of white paint.

Back to Henry, he sits on the bench, watching his old partner struggle against his chains. The new electronics in the building have all cesed functions due to William, but Henry can't be mad. They are both trapped, and the children seem to have hidden themselves in their own machines. No child likes to see an adult upset.

[worldofalore]

Escaping the Doi Caverns

I’m back as promised to tell you about the Doi, or rather, how to escape the Doi caverns. See, for a place where living so simple, leaving is all but impossible. Or rather I guess I should say leaving alive is nearly impossible. If you’re dead, leaving is quite simple as the people of the Doi will merely lower the final net, and let the currents take your body much as the way you’d arrived.

Getting out alive is a million times harder than that. The Shauling River is no less fierce because it now flows beneath the surface, in fact I’d dare say it’s a lot worse. Up on the surface, there’s a shore you can at least try and make it to. Down below, the currents just bounce around, slamming any and everything into the walls as it goes. Plus, the water levels have been known to fluctuate so there are often stretches where you’re trapped underwater with no air to breathe depending on the season. Naturally that means there’s nowhere for the bioluminescent moss and stuff to grow so the whole trip is in pitch blackness. And of course if that’s not enough, it’s not a straight path.

Every so often, the paths branch off and often reach dead ends. The current in these dead end caverns is so strong as water races in that one wrong turn can be your death. If the currents don’t immediately kill you, getting back to the main path while fighting the current is all but impossible so you can get trapped in a cave on your boat and starve to death.

Oh yeah, I didn’t mention the boats before did I? So, It’s a long journey. Like you’re traveling from the Southern reaches of Erothe all the way to the northern reaches of Feirr, where you get spit out on the coast. That’s about a 2,000 mile journey, and the river may be fast but it’s not that fast. I’ve done the math for you, don’t worry. The Shauling - or at least, the underwater portions, moves at around 15mph in most places, but it’s rather slow going as at every branch you need to stop and decide the way. Overall, the trip takes an average of 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks worth of provisions you need to bring with you, and let’s not forget that certain sections you’ll need to be lying flat on the boat so that you can get under the low clearance - or the times when you and the boat are completely forced underwater.

Back to the trip itself, you need to figure out a light source. Sure, you can bring some of the moss and lichen but that won’t be enough to light your way when you’re picking a route - although it’s highly recommended to cover your boat in it so you can see it if you’re forced out for any reason.

Sleeping? Well, you better bring a chain and some strong grapple hook with you because you’ll need to hook yourself onto the rocks at night and pray that it doesn’t break free. This works best if there’s two of you trying to make it out, that way you can take watch turns. But make sure to tie your boats together with a longer cord!

If you can convince someone to come with you on this death trip, it should be great right? Having companionship? But the river is so loud that in most places you’d barely be able to hear one another if you screamed! If you happen to know the unspoken language of Crierd and have enough light, you’ll be set though!

Assuming you manage to make it out alive, you’ll find yourself off the coast of Feirr and you’re free to live. However, as part of the deal with being allowed to take supplies from the community you’re forbidden to speak of Doi. Long ago, a blood Ashi wrote a simple contract agreeing that you can never return to your old life or home so as not to reveal the truth of Doi, and you can’t tell others of it. And yeah I know I know the shi should still have ahold of me but being outside off world seems to have broken it’s hold? Or maybe the magic doesn’t work with this kind of telling and writing. Who even knows to be honest…

[andauril]

Chapter 37 Preview

I expect to be able to finish the chapter today, but for now, have this sneak peak!

Silaestra was still watching him. “We’ll do with the next one what we did with the first it offered. Neither of us is turning into a mind flayer, half or not.” Her gaze turned soft. “And I happen to like you as you are.” “It would be such a shame to loose this face”, he agreed, sitting down next to her. “Not just the face.” Her shoulder brushed against his. “I know I can’t promise that we will survive this. Tonight was … a close call.” The words hang uncomfortably in the air between them. She was right. He’d felt worse tonight than when he had all those weeks ago, after they’d slain the goblin leaders. They had come dangerously close to transforming. He almost had lost his body again. His autonomy. Every last thing he had just regained, or gained since he’d come to on the beach. And that, terrifyingly, included her now. If he would’ve made it to the portal and she didn’t … Astarion pushed the thought from his mind. It hadn’t happened. “It is all rather daunting. Can’t say I look forward to fighting another of those ‘Chosen’, honestly … let alone two.” Astarion barked a nervous laugh. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, killing them will be quite satisfying. But they won’t make that easy for us, now, will they?” “Not if Ketheric was any indication.” She leaned against him, head now resting on his shoulder as she stared into the flames. There was a slight tremble in her voice, an edge of fear. He wrapped an arm around her hip and pulled her closer to him. His chest felt a little lighter, feeling her warmth against him; almost as though the slow and steady beat of her heart was causing his own, dead heart to beat again. That notion was disgustingly sentimental - and yet somehow, he didn’t hate it. “Ugh. Let’s hope they don’t also have an aasimar chained up somewhere. If they have to make things difficult for us, at least they should do us the favour of staying dead if we kill them.” If. They still had no idea what they were capable of. “You wouldn’t happen to miraculously remember some useful detail about them, would you?” “I wish I did.” There was that tremble in her voice again, the hint of uncertainty, of fear. “But no. Nothing.” That fear of hers was something he could understand. He shared it - that growing dread. That sense of foreboding. There was nothing he could of think of saying, no assurances he could utter that wouldn’t sound hollow. Because he had nothing to offer to make it better. And so, “A shame”, was all he managed to say.