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anyarose011 · 19 days ago

Text

Agape

Pairing: Lucius x Reader

Summary: After the Roman Empire had fallen, birthing the Republic, you and Lucius had finally found a moment to breathe in each other's presence. Over a few years' journey of healing, you find that is both exhausting, yet all the more fulfilling at the same time.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past SA, Depictions of Grief, Violence, Angst, Miscommunication, Historical Inaccuracies [I tried my best to make it kind of accurate], Nudity (sexual and non-sexual), Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex (f receiving), P in V Sex

Paul Mescal's facial hair in All of Us Strangers, if you can hear us, please save us. Nobody ask me how I went from "’Oh, I’m just gonna write some scenes about healing from trauma, and the rest is smut! Easy!" to then making it just a little longer than the first part. I'm a yapper, but holy shit XD. Anyway, this is just shameless pRopAgAnDa at what I personally view a husband to act like (even in modern times). So, without further ado, thousands of words of hurt/comfort and smut.

Word Count: 16.4k

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You were a lucky child. When you were twelve and your friend was married off to a man who was forty-two, you asked your father when you would be married.

He tucked you in that night, saying that he wasn’t certain, and that you had nothing to fear; for he wouldn’t promise you to a man who was in a war the same year you were born. He would have to know him personally as well, saying.

“It’s easier to like a man than have to plan his assassination if he dared lay a hand on you.”

You like to think he would have approved of Lucius; he was the once heir to the Roman Empire.

You don’t think he would have approved of your…informal marriage.

“A year.” Lucius stated as the two of you sat together in one of the piazzas. “As long as we are not separated from each other for more than three days, Rome will view us as married if we live in the same household for a year.”

You hummed. “And why should we care what Rome views?”

“Men won’t stop their advances on you if they saw you as my sister.” he explained. “Even as a wife, that doesn’t stir them.”

“It’s a very Christian belief of you to have.”

“But it makes them think thoroughly on if they want to risk tainting you.” Lucius finally looked at you. “Knowing that I would break every finger they touched you with.”

Even with his proclamation, you merely shrugged. “Being the emperor’s favorite whore, I doubt they would care.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know what my mother wrote? Her final words that will forever be with me because they are in ink? ‘Take her as your wife.’”

It had only been one day since Lucilla’s death, since Rome had become a Republic, and no one knew exactly what to do.

Yet…even at the mention of her presence, you felt tears spring to your eyes.

How you hated crying; and crying and crying.

“It is wise.” You finally settled on. “The people here too must see me as a traitor.”

“You would be dead if they did.”

“It’s still early.” You smiled sadly. “I desired to be free of the emperors, but all they must have saw was lust for power.”

Lucius sighed. “If it is a concern, then I believe it is best to leave Rome.”

Suddenly, you were no longer afraid for your life. You scowled. “Leave the city you risked your life to liberate?”

“It is not just my own life I need to think of now, is it?”

“Then think of mine.” you began. “I don’t wish to leave. Where would we even go? I know nothing outside of Rome.”

This would have been solved if you somehow still had the house you grew up in. The moment Geta claimed you, it was gone. Even with the fall of the Empire, and the birth of the Republic, you could not take it back.

Among many other things, you could not take it back.

“We’ll live just outside the walls.” Lucius suggested. “A farm perhaps a few miles from here-.”

“-A farm?” You questioned. “You know how to farm? Because I sure don’t.”

“I’ve lived longer on a farm than I have in a palace.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You also weren’t in the position to bargain. Even though it wasn’t going to be what most would deem an ‘official’ marriage, he still owned you. That was how it always was, whether living outside of the Roman walls or not. Still, you had to try.

“I will learn as much as I need to,” You shook your head. “but I will find a job in the city. You cannot believe I will be shut out-.”

“-Do you want to share a room, or would you like your own?”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

Lucius restated. “We don’t have any money to buy a farm, so I’ll build us one. Do you want your own room?”

You had only known him for a grand total of a day and a half (if you were to add up all the previous times you had spoken to him before Macrinus’ death), so needless to say, his offer shocked you; more so, it impressed you.

“Isn’t it odd for a man and wife to not share a bed?” You asked.

“So, you want to share a room?”

“No.” was your immediate response. “I just…”

Am not used to compromising with men without them threatening my life.

“Won’t it cost money to build a house?” You asked instead. “None the less, more for another room?”

“I only want you to be happy, if we’re to be married.”

There you were, asking every question and not being satisfied with his answers, yet he was remaining patient.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in thanks for just a second before questioning. “I am still allowed to have a job in the city? It will help with the cost, of course.”

“Where exactly do you intend to work?”

He said your name; not ‘Julia’, the name you had whispered to him in his cell. Lucius was the only one who had said it to you, for you did not even tell Lucilla or Marcus. It still felt strange hearing it on your lips, nonetheless, his.

Still, shaking your discomfort away, you hummed humorlessly. “I know two women who run their own businesses; hairdressing and tailoring. I’m better at hair than clothes, but not so much. And you?”

He sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any other farmers needing a hand.”

“You’re going to work for a farmer to build a farm?”

“It sounded more bizarre in your head than when you said it aloud, did it not?”

That was the first thing you found out about Lucius after all the bloodshed and heartbreak of the last week:

He spoke with such a straight tone, you did not know he was joking until he would smile just a hint; you couldn’t really call it a true smile.

You managed to grin. “I suppose it makes sense. You should find one that will let us sleep there.”

And he did. A farm just a few miles outside of Rome took both you and Lucius in. It was substantial, housing five chickens, two cows, three pigs, four horses, and seven human children. Albeit the children helped with the chores, but the eldest was only ten and could not manage any of the heavy lifting whatsoever, which was where Lucius came in.

From sun up to sun down, he’d work on the farm. The farmers, Atticus and Diana, let you sleep in the barn of all places. The hayloft was nice for the both of you; enough space to spread out but not be right next to each other. There was also somewhat of a wall between the two of you, giving the illusion of separate rooms.

It was certainly an adjustment for you; had been sleeping on the softest of beds for months, but even so, you just missed the bed from your old house.

Lucius fell asleep the second he laid on the hay.

Dreams and nightmares were always a peculiar thing. Some days, you would dream of your mother and father, some days, they would be of Lucilla and Marcus.

You had nightmares of what befell you before coming to the farm; Macrinus and his manipulation, Caracalla’s temper, Geta…

Yet, the worst that would happen would be you waking up more tired than the night prior. You knew Lucius was having nightmares too, but every time you approached him, he would lie and say he was fine, or simply not want to speak of it.

You stopped asking.

For the first few days on the farm, you were put to work by watching over the younger children when their mother was busy. Somehow, it was the older ones you didn’t mind, it was the youngest baby who was a handful.

It’s morbid to say, but you always wondered how any of them survived infancy.

Luckily, you managed to get back to Rome after perhaps a week of being stranded on the farm. It was almost an hour walk, and you had gotten up even before Lucius had, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t that you felt dead as you were on the farm per say, but walking through the streets brought a certain kind of life back into your steps.

You spent a good portion of the day trying to find the hairdressers you talk to Lucius about. Just as you were about to give up and try again tomorrow, something caught your ear.

Hebrew.

You turned over your shoulder and saw a man speaking in Latin to another man and a pregnant woman. The father had spoken in broken Latin before turning to his wife, speaking quickly in Hebrew as if to ask her what to say.

One of the men began to yell, and you rushed over, speaking to the patriarch of the family.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

His eyes grew as if you were the first person in Rome to understand him (you probably were). “I paid for a bag of peaches fairly; two bronze, yet they’re saying it wasn’t enough.”

You turned to the men behind you. “He says he gave you two bronze for the peaches.”

“It was three.” The Roman man gritted his teeth.

Tilting your head, you tried. “Show me your stand so we may see.”

It was perhaps stupid of you to challenge him; yet, he controlled his tempter and led you to his fruit stand. The sign by the peaches indeed said ‘2’, but there was also a good amount of peaches blocking the bottom half of the sign.

When you moved a few, it read ‘3’.

You smiled, looking at the man who spoke Hebrew. “It is three, but it’s not your fault this brute didn’t notice either.”

He nodded, returning your grin before handing the men another copper. With an few mumbled exchanges, the man and his wife were on their way.

“You have Judeans in your family?” The man crudely asked.

Still, you decided to reciprocate his crassness with kindness. “I actually speak five languages.”

He rose his brows. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

He hummed, holding his hand out. “Isidorus.”

“Julia.” Was your immediate response as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. It wasn’t even your own choice to say that name; it was what you lived by. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and said your own name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“-All of Rome knows who you are.” He interrupted. “Do not be afraid of your own people. Most of them were there simply a week ago when you tried to slay Macrinus but was there to comfort lady Lucilla in her final moments.”

You only nodded, not wanting to be praised. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“With certain.” He nodded. “You are with child; only a monster would harm a woman carrying.”

The events of the past weeks had made you forgotten about the false babe. Luckily, the fear upon your face could be used to your advantage.

“Are you not well?” Isidorus questioned.

You dropped your gaze, stammering your tone. “The…I lost the child.”

He looked down as well. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head. “it’s…it feels odd. His father was terrible but…”

“Why are you perusing Rome unchaperoned?” He changed the subject.

“My betrothed is being put to work,” you immediately answered. “and I am scouring the streets to find my own.”

“What has your luck been?”

“Nothing.”

Isidorus hummed. “I could change that.”

Even at the thought of what he was alluding to, you smiled. “Good sir, I am not in the position to sell my body-.”

“-None of that.” he waved his hand. “My brother works down at the entrance of the city gates. They’re always in need of translators.”

You nodded, considering. “When may I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Midday at the gates with many people watching so you do not feel threatened?”

The two of you laughed, and you agreed. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

“Anything to help a woman of the people.”

You walked all the way back to the farm with a skip in your step. Even at dinner, you were more talkative with the rest of the family. Lucius certainly took notice as the two of you were settling down for the night.

“You seemed better today.” He complimented, laying onto his bed of hay.

“So, I’ve been absolutely horrible the rest?” You teased, peeking around the wall of the hayloft.

“No, just what I think you were like before everything; more yourself.” He explained. “Did the hairdressers go well?”

Leaning against the wall, you crossed your arms. “I’m actually working as a translator down by the city entrance.”

He gave you a look. “How’d this come about?”

“Well,” you began. “I overheard two men arguing, one was speaking Hebrew, and I asked him what was wrong. There was a misunderstanding over peaches of all things, I helped them talk it out, and it was solved with no bloodshed. The vendor said his brother works at the gates and is always in need of translators and offered to meet with him tomorrow. It will be midday and so many people around; do not worry.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I shall be fine.”

“I have no doubt you would.” You knew that was a lie. “One of the scythes broke today, I’ll need to buy another one in the city.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it wouldn’t surprise you if Lucius would sneak out in the night and break equipment simply to go with you.

Sighing, you went behind the wall to your side of the hayloft. “Fine.”

To no one but Lucius’ surprise, Isidorus had not lied about his brother, nor the job offer. Of course, the brother had been off put at a woman being the translator (because everyone knows that they are the lesser sex). Still, after some convincing (you talked to a Greek family, a man from Anatolia, and two brothers from Persia), he said you could be put to work.

Lucius stood there the whole hour you had proved yourself.

“You couldn’t have gotten the scythe while I worked?” You questioned him while walking home.

He kept his gaze on the road before him, carrying the farm equipment. “It was engaging to watch.”

You hummed. “I could see how engaged you were while you stood like this.” You crossed your arms and scowled.

“I did not look like that.” He scoffed.

“You did so!” You refuted, lowering your voice. “My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, the Last Gladiator, son of Lucilla and Maximus, grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

He looked down, mouth upturning a little. “I do not sound like that.”

“Is that a smile?!” you gasped. “Gods above, I never thought you could unless you were attempting humor!

“Away with you, woman.”

You only laughed as the sun was starting to set.

There was something called a “Fullmoon” period in a marriage. Most now would say it’s “Honeymoon”, but the period in time where a man and woman were in a complete state of euphoria together was called “Fullmoon” because it only lasted for a month.

You and Lucius (even with your strange circumstance) were not immune to this.

A month later, when you had fully settled into a mundane life of working in different areas for hours upon hours, the only times you saw Lucius was when you ate dinner with the farmer’s family, and before going to bed.

It didn’t’ effect you that much for the first three months, as you both were still on good terms and were fine simply cohabitating without affection. This marriage was purely for protection and to honor Lucilla’s wishes.

Then…Lucius came to you one day, saying that together, you both had enough money to build a farm. He already had a patch of land picked out from the help of the famer who employed him. It was five miles away from the farm you stayed at. Five miles more of a journey to the city.

You would move in once the walls were built, which he said would only take a week or two.

It was too fast for you.

Still, you had to go along with it, because you were to be his wife; nothing more. Even so, nothing out of the ordinary besides your hidden, simmering annoyance happened between you two.

The first day construction was to be done was when light was shed upon it.

“Lucius!” You called his name as you approached him and a few other men hauling the wood and stone that would be used. It was mid-twilight when you ran to them.

He furrowed his brow, walking towards you. “Aren’t you meant to be in the city?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shook your head. “I asked for the day off because of the house. He said I-.”

“-You need to go back and tell him you’ll work.”

Your smile fell from his usual, monotone demeanor. “He doesn’t expect me to come in today-.”

“-Then he’ll be happy to see you.”

“May I just talk for a moment?!” You yelled.

His said nothing.

Sighing, you began. “I will be useful in any capacity. If you need me to help dig for water, measure supports, lift anything-.”

“-Your shoulder cannot carry-.”

You retorted. “-It might be the shoulder you shot, but it’s the shoulder I have to live with, and I will tell you if something is too heavy to carry.”

It hadn’t been the first time you brought up your shoulder after Rome was free. Yet, in the past, it was always out of good fun; something to say to him when you didn’t want to carry as little as an egg from the chicken coop. You told the children the story too why you had to set one of them down after carrying her for so long.

You expected them to cower away from Lucius when he returned for supper, but instead, they all tackled him to the ground to defend your honor.

They didn’t hurt him of course, and you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Yet, at that moment, you said it with nothing but disdain; and he heard it in every word. You thought it would have been enough to guilt him into letting you help, you made sure of it.

Lucius titled his head back toward the main road. “Go on, now. The sun will be up soon, it’ll be better to walk without daylight beating down on you.”

The audacity he had. Usually, on the times you’d have disagreements of sorts, you’d try to leave with dignity; perhaps a word of sarcasm or two.

No, you simply turned on your heel and marched away in a huff.

You were harsher that day when translating, and you were still angry by the time the day ended. You ate dinner outside by yourself (until three of the seven children came outside to eat with you), and did not utter a ‘goodnight’ to Lucius before laying down to sleep.

Neither of you spoke to the other for days after that.

It was one morning, not even when the sun was out, as you tried to tiptoe around him, did he ask from his makeshift bed.

“Do you remember where the house is?”

You nearly fell off the ledge of the hayloft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes!” you whispered, afraid to wake the whole farm. “Why?”

“We made the water pump, and the walls and floors are finished. We’ll be able to sleep there now.”

“I don’t see the appeal in sleeping in a house with no roof.”

“I’ll put half of it on today. Tell your foreman too that you won’t be able to work for the next week.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I’m teaching you how to tend to a farm.” He wrapped his blankets tighter around him and turned his back to you.

And you continued on your way; making the long trek to the city, which would only be longer when you moved to the house.

When your work was over, you walked and walked. You took a short break at the farmer’s house, making your final goodbyes to the children, and gathering what little belongings you owned.

As you tried to leave, Diana stopped you. She was leading one of the horses, a berber, behind her.

“Take her,” she handed you the reins. “you shouldn’t have to walk so far.”

You shook your head. “I simply cannot-.”

“-I insist.” She smiled. “She’s yours now. Think of it as payment for helping me with the little beasts that are my children.”

Smiling politely, it soon faded. She took notice. “What is it?”

“…I’ve only ever ridden once, and I was a child.”

She sighed yet was still kind. “Come on, my husband’s horse is at your farm. I’ll ride back with him.”

Despite your inexperience, it was actually nice riding a horse. It was perhaps the closest you could ever come to flying in your lifetime; maybe that’s why you enjoyed it. As you were nearing your soon-to-be home, you saw a familiar silhouette along with some others.

Atop the house, against the setting sun, you watched as Lucius continued to add tiles to the unfinished roof. His shirt was off, and even with night beginning to set in with the cold air, he was still breaking a sweat from the rigorous work. You would be a liar if you say that you didn’t catch yourself staring, and it was Diana who had to take the reins.

“What a fine home!” She broke you out of your trance, and when Lucius looked in your direction, you snapped your gaze away.

Lucius nodded. “All that needs to be done is the roof.” He jumped onto the ground just as you were sliding off the horse. He gave you his hand as you were, and you took it.

“Thank you.”

Atticus and the other workers went to a lone tree where their horses were tied. Atticus then approached both you and Lucius.

“Well,” he smiled. “it was lovely hosting the both of you. Please come back as often as you can; I’m sure the children will miss you.”

You all exchanged your final goodbyes, and it when everyone rode off away from you, did you realize something. This was the first time in a while you were alone with Lucius that wasn’t when going to sleep or waking up.

“Do you have a name for the horse?” Lucius asked.

Turning over your shoulder, you led the steed to the tree, petting her as you began to tie her up. “Not at the moment. She’s yours too, do you have any?”

“You’ll be with her more; you should name her.”

Humming you looked at him when you finished securing the horse. “You asked them to give her to me, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “They asked how they could repay you for taking care of their children, I mentioned how it would be a longer journey to the city once we moved here. That’s all I did.”

…He was better at asking for forgiveness than for permission; that was another thing you learned about him. Still, you nodded your appreciation, inspecting the area around you. It was quite beautiful even with its plainness. The fields stretched on for miles, and there were no tall buildings to cover the night sky. Even the unfinished house brought a sense of happiness to you.

Something that was, at least partially, your own.

“Where will the barn and chicken coop go?” You questioned.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth, but in Lucius fashion, did his best to hide it. “You were complaining about not having a roof, and now you wonder about things for the animals?”

“Perhaps I’m more interested in farming that you are.”

“I’ll teach you.” he led you into the house. “Come on.”

The front living space was large, and in the corner of it had an oven, so that was where the kitchen would be. Lucius showed you the two rooms as well; each having a single pillow and a blanket.

“We’ll begin planting tomorrow.” he announced. “I don’t think I’ll have to wake you up.”

“You won’t.” You nodded. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Goodnight.” He said your name.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over the sound of your own name from his lips.

You named the horse after your mother. Well…not the exact same name, but a similar one. It was quite a scene too when confessing to Lucius you could exactly remember how to ride a horse by yourself.

He didn’t laugh at you, that was what greatly surprised you. He spent an hour teaching you, and you were able to ride her on your own.

Farming was more difficult than you thought it would be, but not so horrible either. Yes, where Lucius was patient with you for the first few days, he made a few snide comments as time passed. Nothing outright mean, but still enough to get under your skin.

Still, you managed to pick it up within the few weeks after that.

He had even let you help him finish the roof of the house; something you didn’t expect him to do. After living in the house for a month, both of you managed to buy actual beds for your rooms, among other luxuries like a few tables and chairs for the main living area, and utensils both for cooking and for eating.

The bathroom was completely bare. Having spent all the money on everything else, it would take time for the both of you to buy a bathtub. Bathing wasn’t a problem back on Atticus and Diana’s farm, but now being away from them, you would be forced to rely on the public baths in the city…

Even with some bathhouses having baths only for women, that did not stop men from forcing their way into them.

You didn’t mind being dirty for weeks on end.

The two of you fell into another pattern of life; you going into the city and spending hours translating foreign dialogue, and Lucius working on the farm for most days, sometimes accompanying you.

There was…something else strange as well.

It was always a coin toss on what weeks Lucius would speak to you or not.

Yes, he was always a man of few words, but this was different. There were some days when you asked him about his day, he would tell you what boring tasks he did. Than, on others, it was just one word: “Good.”

Never “Bad”, never “Just okay”; only “Good”. Even when you knew it wasn’t, that’s all he would say.

And you could endure it.

It had already been a little over half a year since the two of you started living together. In the eyes of Rome (as mere Plebians), you would be married once a year passed.

This was perhaps the best marriage you could as for as a Roman woman. Still…every day that Lucius would not speak to you only brought more dread upon your shoulders.

When he stopped even looking at you, that was when you went to Diana one day.

“It’s so lovely to see you.” She smiled, setting down two cups of wine and sitting. “It’s felt like ages!”

With her youngest baby on your lap, you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “You honestly didn’t need to get the wine out.”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand. “It’s a celebration just to be in your presence. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

“How’s the farm? Lucius?”

“Well,” you took another sip, setting your cup down. “the farm has been alright. I know at least how to properly water crops and know when they’re ready to harvest or not. I help Lucius sometimes, but…he likes things his own way. He was a farmer too, I understand.”

She hummed. “And as a betrothed? I hope having your own home would help; to me, you two treated each other more like acquaintances than anything else.”

All you could do was avoid eye contact and bounce the giggling baby on your knee.

“Ah.” She sighed. “So not much has changed?”

“We both talk more than we had at your far, but somehow, less at the same time.” You explained.

Diana reached over and held your hand, asking softly. “When was the last time you were intimate?”

As if she were a man, you tore your hand from hers. “What?”

“I do not wish anything to be forced upon you,” she stated first. “especially with what has happened to you. But…it is still important, especially to your future marriage.”

“We…we haven’t done anything in…months.” You were not going to tell her you hadn’t even seen him naked. You were not going to tell her you hadn’t done you “duty” as a woman.

She nodded. “There must be something plaguing his mind terribly.”

“I know that!” You cried. “He just won’t tell me.”

“Men do not like talking,” Diana sighed. “I have been married to Atticus for fifteen years, and even after ten children, there are parts of his past I still do not know of. What Lucius frets over is important though. You must dig your heels into the ground and let him know you are not doing anything until he tells you what he has issue with.”

The baby on your lap cooed as you held her, reaching for parts of your clothing. Diana took her from you once the baby started fussing, and you offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll try my best with him.”

She squeezed your shoulder. “He will come to his senses. If not, then he truly hit his head too hard in the Colosseum.”

Except, you couldn’t confront him when you got home. Even though the sun was only beginning to set, when you arrived, the house was silent. You peeked into his bedroom and saw that he was already fast asleep.

With a sigh, you finished your nightly activities, and when the sun went down, you were in your own bed.

The nightmare was unlike any you had before.

Hands from all around you reached out to you. Some grabbed clumps of your hair, stuck their fingers into your mouth, caressed the most intimate parts of your body, or even tear your skin off.

You blinked and then you were in the palace, surrounded by cloaked figures. Someone forced you onto your back, and you looked up and saw Geta, raising a knife high above his head before diving it into your stomach. He carved it out before digging his hands into the opening he made and pulled out your womb.

After sitting up in bed, you had thought you awoken. When you opened your bedroom door, you were welcomed to a field of reeds, seeing nothing for miles. All but a silhouette in the distance. You could not make out it to be a man or a woman; all you knew was that you needed to run to them.

Yet, even as you dashed through the fields, calling out a name you do not even remember, your feet sank into the ground with each step.

The earth swallowed you whole before you could even reach them.

You didn’t awake with a scream; you didn’t even awake with a cry. You did awake in a sweat. Sitting up, you slowly pulled the blanket away from your body. Your stomach was unwounded, and nothing had happened.

Without knowing why, you rose from your bed and slipped on your sandals. Not even putting on a robe, you walked out of the house into the cold, night air. Numbly, you treaded through the tall grass away from the house and stopped.

The stars above you watched as you fell to your knees, and the past finally had the last laugh.

You wept for your mother (whose touch you never felt).

You wept for your father (who you had to take care of the same way he took care of you).

You wept for Marcus (the first man outside of your father to ever see you as a person).

You wept for Lucilla (the woman who saved you in more ways than one).

You wept for the innocence you lost to the twin emperors (and how you mercilessly killed them).

You wept and wept, until you felt bile claw its way up your throat and out of your mouth.

The tears did not stop even after you were finished.

Two hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you tried to tear yourself away with a sharp cry. You were turned around, and even though your tears blinded you, you could see that it was Lucius.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes grown.

You couldn’t speak clearly, only shaking your head and saying ‘No’ over and over. Lucius led you to the water pump and sat you down by it. Cranking the handle until the water flowed freely, he cupped his hand to catch some of it before gently washing your face.

The cool water grounded you, and your sobs began to slow. Once you were only left with shallow breathing and a stuffed nose, Lucius finally sat beside you.

“What happened?” He asked again, although, returning to his normal, straight-toned self.

“Bad dream.” Was all you said.

He said nothing at first. Then, looking down at the grass beneath him, he said. “Would talking about it help you?”

It was meant to be a helpful question, but it only angered you. “You ask that now? After I run out into the night screaming?”

Lucius squinted his eyes. “Why does that bother you?”

“I know you have nightmares too.” You scoffed. “I have asked you dozens of times if you wish to talk to me about them, and you have always said no. You’ve never once asked me about mine, so how dare you expect me to tell you about it now when you cannot even share yours with me!”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head.

You stood up, walking back to the house. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

He jumped to his feet. “You can’t walk away without telling me why this is troubling you.”

“You first.”

“What?”

You turned to face him. “We are to be married in less than a year, at least ‘In the eyes of Rome’ as you say, yet you do not even look at me anymore!”

His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. “I am looking at you-.”

“-I ask you how you are these days, and you lie to me every time.” You interrupted. “The few instances you allow me to work beside you, you criticize every little thing I do. I understand that I am the farthest thing you wanted for as a wife-.”

It was that word that struck a chord. Despite saying it every so often those past few months…it was only then it occurred to you that where Lucius was your first husband…you were not his first wife.

He tore his gaze away from yours, as if he knew you had figured it out. You sighed. “Gods above…I’m sorry for what has happened to her, and I will never know the loss of a love like that…but I cannot be viewed as her replacement-.”

“-Who told you that you were?” He sharpened his tone.

You swallowed, knowing that this would all end in tears no matter what you said. “You do not tell me anything. I will never ask you to care for me the way you cared for her, but she is gone-.”

“-I couldn’t do anything after she died but weep and watch her body float into the ocean.” He hissed. “I vowed to kill the man that slaughtered her, and I didn’t. It had been perhaps just a month since her death, did I promise myself to another woman. I have dishonored her memory three times.”

“I do not know how long you need me to apologize for something I could not control, but I will if that means you will stop hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate that I will be your wife!” Your voice was growing hoarse. “I don’t understand it at all. I will be whatever it is you wish me to be in few months’ time, because you will own me. Even if you wish me to be dead, it shall be done because what I want will not matter-.”

“-Must you make everything about yourself?!” He finally yelled. “Would it soothe you if I said I despised every part of you? That if Jupiter himself came down and offered me my old life in exchange for you, I would give you up to him?! Would it give you any peace of mind if I told you I would have rather died in the arena than live a thousand years with you?”

You had expected him to at least pause after he made his confession. To at least have the courage to look you in the eye and watch as the words sunk into your being. Yet, as soon as he finished, he stomped back to the house; and you were alone outside again.

The tears upon your face glimmered from the light in the sky above you, for all you could do was stare at the little farmhouse Lucius had built for you.

How strange that something you once saw as a sign of devotion, was now revealed to be one of complicity.

He had admitted his disdain for your future marriage. You knew that it would be loveless (you would never escape that), but you wished at least for respect. Seeing as how you were not even going to have that, you dragged your feet over to the tree where your horse was tied up. Mounting her with nothing but the clothes on your back, you raced down the pathway.

For the first day, you had stayed at Diana and Atticus’ farm. You said nothing about Lucius, and tried to spend the most time with the children to avoid any questions.

On the second day, you finally went back to the city. Even though the man in charge of you yelled louder than Lucius had at you, it did not phase you. You merely nodded and returned to work. With what money they paid you for the day, you spent it on a room at the safest inn you could find. You had another nightmare that night. Not as horrible as the one two days prior, but awful enough for you to lay awake until the sun rose.

The third day seemed to be ordinary, until you finished your job, and you were promenading along the market. As you eyed the fruit at Isidorus’ stand, a man came to stand beside you.

“Good sir,” you heard Lucius’ voice. “do you have a wife?”

Isidorus nodded. “I do.”

“What from your stand would you give her if she was angry at you?”

He eyed you before smiling at Lucius. “My ears to listen.”

You turned, promptly walking away. Of course, Lucius followed.

“I didn’t know you confided into strangers about our qualms.”

“He’s not a stranger.” you kept trying to lose him. “And gifts will not suffice for an apology this time.”

He got in front of you, uttering your name. You stopped, sighing. “What else have you come to say to me?”

“That I am a fool.”

Although you weren’t necessarily expecting him to admit it, you only nodded. “You very much are.”

He began. “For my entire life, I was not allowed to be entirely truthful with others. Whether it was how I felt in the moment, or even my own name. I’m not used to the freedom of being candid with one another. And I have been mistreating you; I have provided a home, but I haven’t provided your wellbeing. Ari-.” Lucius paused, breathing through his nose. “Arishat and I lived on a farm, that was all I knew while being a husband. I will love her until the end of my days, but that does not give me the right to neglect you. I will…I will try with all my being to share my thoughts with you.”

You stared at him, feeling as if you would blink, and you would awaken from another dream. Yet once you did and saw that he was still in front of you, you said.

“I didn’t mean to insult your memory of her.”

He shook his head. “I believe she would hit me if she were here and saw how I treated you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Truly, for everything. I…it’s not only you, I don’t know if I will ever feel like myself after…everything.”

Lucius already knew. Still, looking around himself, he then said. “Where is your horse?”

“The inn I’ve been staying at has a stable. You walked the whole way here?”

“It’s what I deserved.”

“You smell horrible.” You mustered a shy grin.

He mirrored you, looking away. “I have for a while.”

“I do as well. I was…I was going to brave the baths; would you like to join me?”

Your offer took him by surprise. Usually, a question like that would be an invitation to more salacious activities to take place. Still, what took him aback more was how you were initially so afraid of the public baths, yet there you were.

“I shall.” He agreed.

Thus, the two of you walked beside one another. There were many baths in Rome, yet it would be challenging to find one that had a separate bath for women and one for men. By the time you reached the third bathhouse, you sighed.

“This will do.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’ll ask the workers at this one if they know-.”

“-No.” You stopped him. “It’s fine. I wish to speak more with you.”

He was still hesitant, but gave in. The two of you entered and drifted off to the separate changing rooms. It was strange that the bathhouse had rooms for the different sex to disrobe, but not baths itself.

After locking your clothes away, you ventured out into the main pool. You were welcomed to an array of naked bodies. You weren’t entirely innocent of course, even before everything. You were never to see any of these people again; it was Lucius you would live with.

Quickly, you disappeared half of your body under the surface of the water and clung to the wall of the large bath. Other people around you laughed and socialized, only putting you more in the eyes of men who only came to the baths for one thing.

Yet, before you could take a moment to worry, your eyes fell to Lucius who entered. You soon averted them and felt the water shift beside you as he entered. You turned to look at him, leveling yourself with the side of the pool, essentially shoulder to shoulder with him. The hear radiating off of his body onto yours reminded you too much of that night months ago; the one where you whispered your name into his ear.

“What were you like as a boy?” You questioned in an attempt to hide how flustered you were.

He hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“If you wish to be more honest with me, than I think it should be best to stary with something minor.”

“I understand. I was spoiled growing up in the palace. Still, I wished nothing more than for adventure. All my life, the mere thought of war and battles were taught as a way to bring glory to the empire; pride for one’s family. I had gotten my foolish wish when Maximus died, and my mother sent me away from Rome.” He paused momentarily, before continuing. “I ran all across the land until I was thirteen, where I finally settled in Numidia. I had changed my named too many times to count and settled upon Hanno.”

Your attention did not waver for a moment. When he was finished you asked. “How old were you when you left?”

“Eight…” There was a sad silence between the two of you. A silence held in almost reverence for all the troubles he had been through. “What about you?”

Even with your uneasiness to answer your starkly different childhood, you did so; also have been promising to be honest with him. You spoke of your father, your past friends, the house you grew up in. He never once looked upon you with envy or hatred.

“Your father sounded like a good man.” He said.

“He was.” You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I think he would have liked you.”

“I can only hope.”

The conversation halted after that, unknown if you should wait for him to ask a question, or for you to ask another. Both of your eyes drifted around the bath house as people filtered in and out. When your gaze fell back onto Lucius’ you watched his eyes flicker to something behind you. Before you could utter a word, he placed his hand upon your bare back, bringing his lips to the space between your ear and your jaw.

It all happened so fast you had no time to react, and your body shivered upon the feel of him being so close to you.

“There’s a man eyeing you from behind.” He whispered into your skin. “Don’t look at him, just keep looking at me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled away slightly, doing as he told. He traced circles on your back with his thumb, staring intently at you. Even as you shrunk under his eyes, they did not frighten you.

Deciding to play along, you trailed your hand up his bare arm until resting on his shoulder. You felt his skin erupt into goosebumps and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

Anyone with any sense knew that meant more than one thing. It had been a while since he felt anyone’s touch; nonetheless, a naked woman’s.

From behind him, you saw a small group of girls all looking at you. They all looked a little younger than you, and acted like so, giggling loudly and talking without a care in the world. It was only then that you noticed they were looking at Lucius.

“Is there someone eyeing me now?” He attempted to tease you when he noticed your gaze.

You nodded, no hint of humor behind your voice. “A good few of them.”

“Is that so?”

You removed your hand. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” He pinched his eyebrows together.

“…Getting your release from a woman that isn’t me.” You were puzzled by his seeming ignorance. “You’re a man, I understand-.”

He said your name with somewhat of gasp. You didn’t listen one bit.

“No, I mean it. I will not be more selfish than I already have been, expecting you to remain celibate because I don’t think I will-.”

Lucius said your name again and you stopped. Even when you did, he said it a third time as if to know he had your attention. He continued to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I will not dishonor you-.”

“-I have been dishonored several times before, it does not matter-.”

“-Listen to me.” He said softly yet firmly. “Even if I desired someone carnally, it is not selfish of you to want my loyalty. I’m not a boy who wishes to bed anything that breathes. I don’t think I can do so with someone I do not have any deep feelings for. You are my wife, and I will not treat you less.”

He didn’t call you his ‘betrothed’. As if, the moment you accepted his apology, you were already his other half. To hear him speak with so much certainty after neither of you knowing what any day would bring…it brought an astonishing comfort you never knew you needed.

“Thank you.” You felt like your heart could beat again.

“You don’t-.”

“-No but I do. I don’t…I don’t think I could give you anything of myself if you wanted it. It’s still…I remember a lot of what Geta did to me, and I forgot it at the same time. It doesn’t happen a lot in my nightmares, but it still does. That one night you found me he…he cut out my womb and held it in his hands. I thought I woke up, but I didn’t, and I think I was in Elysian Fields, but I only saw a shadow. I don’t know what any of that means.”

Lucius let you finish all of the anxiety you had thrown onto him. Still, releasing a shallow breath, he said.

“You die in most of my dreams.” He clarified. “The bad ones, I mean. A lot of people do, but you’ve been in them the most. There are times I see both you and Arishat, or my mother, or all three of you and…those are the worst. The night I found you outside, I couldn’t…I had a horrible dream that I couldn’t even see your face, but I knew it was you when I found you hanging in the Colosseum.”

If the both of you weren’t naked and, in the bathhouse, you would have embraced him. Yet, with the most understanding look in your eyes, you brought your hand to the base of his neck, his loose curls between your fingers. You swore you felt him relax into your touch for just a moment.

“I’ve known everyone to have their own beliefs of dreams.” You whispered. “They’re meant to predict the future, they reflect the past, they are punishments, they are blessings, and they mean nothing. I wonder if it’s possible they are all of them.”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I do.” Lucius unknowingly leaned into you just ever so slightly. You grinned from ear to ear, pulling your hand away from him. “I believe you need to cut your hair.”

He chortled. “I’m not spending anything on cutting it. It’s fine.”

“I’ll cut it then.”

“I would rather be stabbed.”

“Oh, quit being dramatic.” you playfully swatted him. “There’s a reason I would’ve been a better hairdresser than tailor.”

The two of you teased one another for a minute longer after that. Than, even though the conversation died, it was not in vain. There was a quiet gentleness and protectiveness as you both shared a short distance between each other while bathing. Lucius kept his eye on you more than you did him, knowing that it was always possible a man could try to take advantage of you.

When all was said and done, you got your horse from the stable at the inn, and the two of you rode back to the farm with a newfound understanding of each other.

More than a year and a half have passed since the fall of the Roman Empire and its subsequent birth of the Republic. Your strange marriage with Lucius grew into a friendship of respect and understanding. You both talked more than you had when you were first betrothed, even if your busy schedules remained the same.

The farm had improved after its first harvest, even raising enough money to build a chicken coop and house a few chickens. The house itself was more furnished, and the two of you managed to purchase a bathtub, no longer needing to use the public ones in the city.

Both of you had changed as well. Even with what minimal farm work you did, it built both your strength and stamina. Lucius had begun to grow out his facial hair; not much for it to be an actual beard, but more so just under his nose. You’d joke about it looking like a caterpillar, to which he would lightly shove you away.

After the intimate discussion the two of you shared, it was only then you both realized you still didn’t know much about each other. Most importantly, the little things that made each of you a person.

So, you’d take time to get to know one another.

You were helping Lucius pull weeds around the crops when you found out he had ripped a monkey’s throat out with his teeth during his very first gladiator fight.

You were reading a collection of poetry one night when Lucius told you that you mouth the words of whatever you’re reading if you find it most interesting.

During supper one night, Lucius ate the entirety of the plate only to then eat whatever else you hadn’t. That was when your theory was proven right; he does forget to eat sometimes.

Both of you had tried to keep the housework to an equal amount; if he cooked one night, you’d clean the kitchen and vice versa. Yet, some remained stagnant; you always cut his hair, yet he always changed the horses’ shoes.

Cutting his hair was perhaps your favorite way to speak with him.

“Remember to clean your sandals before coming in next time.” He reminded you as he sat on a tree trunk outside. “You tracked in mud.”

Standing behind him while trimming small hairs, you shook your head. “My apologies, master of the house; it was downpouring and I was freezing.”

“Serves you right, I’d say.”

You placed the tip of the shears against his neck. “What else do you have to say?”

He snickered. “That you’re an astonishing woman who I am blessed to have.”

“Wrong answer, all lies.” You pretended to stab him, only to bring the shears back to his hair.

“I’m not lying!” Lucius laughed.

You only gave him a ‘tsk’ before continuing. “Are you sleeping any better?”

He said nothing at first. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and saw him pull on his tunic; another telltale sign of his nervousness.

“I keep seeing my mother’s face.” He admitted. “Only her face, nothing else.”

“It was the third night last night, right?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Would you want to hear a dream I had a few days ago to make you feel better?”

“Better because it was happy, or because you think I’ll feel happy I wasn’t you?”

“The latter.”

“Tell me.”

You turned his head to the side gently, continuing your work. “I stood in front of the entire senate of Rome, and they were all laughing at me. I don’t even know what I said, they only laughed and laughed.”

“Is that not what happened to you in the waking day?”

“No, they listened…I think.” You shook our head. “It more so angers me that, in the waking life, I presented logic to them, and they still chose Macrinus who showed nothing of the sort.”

“Some men like to speak of only desiring logic yet run away with their emotions once it is presented.” Lucius stated. “What had you told them?”

“That all of Rome would continue to riot if they killed Lucilla.” You said grimly. “I still don’t understand; they had their proof of the rage Rome’s children could feel when their general was killed, the only reason the city did not fall was because Macrinus was slain. I’m done.”

You set your shears down and Lucius stood, shaking the fallen hair off his clothes. He turned to you.

“If it matters at all, I think the only reason this house hasn’t fallen is because of you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shoved him playfully. “Away with you, you’re just as much of the reason as I am.”

“I do all that I can.”

There were moments like this where you would not speak of childhood memories or events of your day. These moments were reserved for the days where it felt like time slowed down just to give you two the grace to speak about them in more detail.

With only a single candle between the two of you one quiet night, you told him how you have to walk a different path in the city sometimes simply to avoid brothels; hating the sounds you would hear from inside, the stench of cheap perfume and sweating bodies burning your nose, the men who would brag to their friends about the women they had.

At breakfast one day, before the sun had even rose, Lucius told you about a time when he was ten, still on the run. He had gone into a man’s house with the promise of food, only to then be hit the head with something so heavy, he was knocked out. He had awoken in a dark room, but managed to find a curtained window, and escaped. He never knew what would have happened to him if he had woken up just a minute later.

There was tenderness you shared with him that you had never shared with anyone in your life.You sht

That was only more apparent on one fateful day.

The first bad omen for the day that morning was when you had run out of sugar for breakfast that morning. The second was when your horse was extra stubborn as you rode her into the city; it was so out of the ordinary, you wondered if you did something to make her hate you.

Still, everything was fine once you went to work. At least it was for the first half of the day.

There were aggressive people from across the land coming into the city you certainly had to deal with, but the worst was when a man twice your size bluffed you with a slap. Even so, the other men you worked with had yelled and sent her away.

That day though…there was a woman with a look in her eyes.

You thought you had seen pure rage when you had been with Geta. Yet, that day was a lesson to you; wrath had many faces.

She mumbled in Greek, but you did not know what she said at first. Then, she attempted to speak Latin. You politely told her you could speak Greek, and so with exhaustion, she told you that she was going to visit her mother.

When asked for her mother’s name, she didn’t say it. After asking again, she became enraged, yelling at you that she should just be able to be let in. When you resisted, she grabbed your bad arm, yanking it to pull you closer to her.

The pain shot through your shoulder like a bolt of lightning, and you cried out. She tugged on your hair as the men beside you tried to pry her away from you. Luckily, she didn’t manage to yank any of it out once the men forced her away from you. Tears fell freely over your face as you cradled yourself, unable to stop the sobs from leaving your lips.

They let you leave early yet paid you as if you were there the whole day.

The ride back to the farm wasn’t any better, but at least your steed took notice of your heartache and was more merciful to you. When you made it home, you slowed her down when you saw Lucius limping towards the house.

You both stopped where you were, staring at one another as if you weren’t supposed to be seeing the other.

“Why are you back so early?” He asked first.

“Why are you dragging your foot?” You asked second.

Lucius took a deep breath, and you saw tears in his eyes. “I fell.”

The only time you had seen him cry was when burying Lucilla; it wouldn’t be from simply falling. You slowly pulled yourself off your horse but did so quick enough before he could rush to help you. You wished nothing more than to pull him into the warmth of the house, to sit him down and tend to his wound to distract you from your own.

Yet, the moment you took his hand, he began to weep.

“Oh Lucius.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to cradle his face. He wrapped both of his arms around you, bringing you onto the ground with him. You yelped a little when he squeezed your bad shoulder too tight, and he pulled away.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You need-.”

“-What happened?!”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop asking, you told him. “Someone at the gate attacked me. Pulled on my bad arm, my hair…it wasn’t as bad as you’d think-.”

“-Where is he?” He lowered his tone and his demeanor.

Your jaw dropped into a surprised huff. “She is long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t then as my husband, you should stay with me instead of wandering the streets of Rome hoping to find someone to be your anger’s victim!”

Though he still wore that rage upon his face, it soon fell once he saw your own tears fall from your eyes like dewdrops on flowers. Lucius laid himself flat on the dirt, and you sat above him.

“I have been married to you longer than I had been to Arishat.” He confessed. “I knew her for longer, but-but not as deeply; no, I-I knew her more than…I don’t…It’s been long since her death, yet there are moments I think of her, and I cannot stop crying.”

You never knew this was in his heart. You knew to never speak of Arishat, only listen whenever he would bring her up (even so, it was once in a blue moon).

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. “I know she is gone, and I shouldn’t be-.”

“-You shouldn’t what?” You interrupted. “Remember her? You think I wish for you to forget the woman you so loved?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s selfish of me to-.”

You were the one to make him lose his words this time. With both hesitation certainty, you placed his head into your lap. It was too late for you to stop once you did, and you felt your own body tense. Then, upon taking a look at his body battered from rigorous work, and another at his face, which relaxed with his eyes fully shut, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Lucius,” you sighed. “never will I think you are a horrible man for mourning her. You missing her shows just how much you adored her, and how she was a treasure to you. In another life, above all, I wish I could have met her. You are not in the wrong for wanting to see her again. I know you do not love me-.”

“-I do love you.” He opened his eyes upon saying it.

Your heart felt as if it was going to beat itself out of your chest and run away when he said those four words. To preserve your sanity, you took it a different way and smiled sadly.

“Not in the way you loved her.” You said softly. “But what else more can I ask for in a husband than one who treats me with a gentleness I did not know was possible? One who has been there to protect me even before we were married?”

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing his face to clear away his tears. “You’re too good to me.”

“Gods above,” you groaned tiredly. “we can go back and forth on who deserves each other. Let us just go back into the house, have supper, and sleep.”

“I would like that.” He hissed as he went to stand.

Helping him, once he was on his best foot, you said. “You never told me what you did to your leg.”

He looked behind him at the field. “There was a snake and a rock.”

You gave him a look. “And what happened with them?”

“I don’t wish to speak of it.” He said grimly.

In any other instance, you would have laughed. Yet, as his eyes were still heavy from crying, you just nodded. The both of you helped each other into the house, and you sat him down on one of the several cushions in the living area.

“Your arm,” he asked. “how bad is it?”

You shook your head. “Just really sore. I think she might have left a nasty bruise or two somewhere, but I won’t know yet.”

“Put one of the cloths in the pot with water and put it over the fire.” He told. “Take it out after a few minutes, let it rest for another, then put it on your shoulder. It should help.”

“Thank you.” You stood, doing so, saying. “I swore we had bandages somewhere. I’ll make something for you to drink too; I bought some herbs just last week.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you as you worked. If it were any other man, you would have felt unsafe; yet, it was only Lucius.

Little by little that night, both of you helped heal one another.

Half a year passed since that night, and you and Lucius had only grown closer. Perhaps as close as you could be with a man who was not your husband by choice.

Not much on the farm had changed; you two were living comfortably, and happily, almost making all the turmoil from the first year worth it. The both of you decided to make more visits to Atticus and Diana’s home, realizing just how much you both missed having someone to talk to outside of each other; but that did not mean you had to keep things hidden of course.

If anything, you shared everything with each other.

So much so, that when Lucius asked you why you held onto him longer when he embraced you on your birthday, you told him the truth.

“I don’t want every time we touch to be when it is in turmoil.” You explained, growing meeker. “And I…I’ve missed the feeling of it when it has not been forced upon me.”

Lucius stared at you with a look you had never seen from him. He had been gentle with you many a times, but they way his eyes fell into yours…

He took a step closer to you, and when you showed no sign of discomfort, he took your face into his hands. Your eyes shut at the feeling of him, and he pressed his head against yours. Never in your life had someone’s breath upon your skin feel so immaculate.

From there on out, it always seemed like you had to have a hand on each other one way or another.

It started with holding hands whenever walking through the city together. He used to ‘lead’ you through the crowds in the past, but more so with a hand hovering over your back. No, him holding your hand meant he would have to go where you would go if anything were to happen.

Alongside this, he’d reach over and hold it at Atticus and Diana’s house; whether it was during dinner, or simply just talking. The eldest child had said what the rest of the household had been thinking.

“They’re finally acting like they’re married!”

Because even when there were no other eyes besides yours, he would still hold your hand. You wonder if it ever became a way for Lucius to ground himself; because it certainly did for you.

You hugged him more often as well. Those used to be for ‘substantial’ occasions; those being celebrations or heartbreaks. Now, they were incorporated into greetings and goodbyes. Of course, it only took a few weeks before they were than made into simple desires.

He would be cooking dinner, and you would come beside him to embrace him. You would be gathering eggs from the chickens, and he would wait for you to set the basket down before tossing his arms around you.

At night, it was normal for you both to trade spots as one of you would read a story, and the other would have their head in the other’s lap.

This happened on so many occasions, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise for what Lucius proposed next, but it did.

“If you don’t favor the question I’m about to ask you, then you are allowed to never speak to me again.” He said, his feet hanging off the arm of the lecti couch you both bought that year.

“Well,” you scoffed, sitting on the end of it. “I will have to speak to you again because we live together.”

“Would you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Never in your life had you thought that would have been his question. When you didn’t speak right away, he backtracked. “I don’t expect you to. I understand if-.”

“-The nights are growing colder.” You stated, no visible uneasiness. “I’ve noticed it, and I don’t think any number of blankets could warm me.”

He swallowed thickly, and this was perhaps one of the first times you’d ever seen him like this. “Yes…it’s cold.”

You nodded, and another beat of silence fell between you two. Standing up, you tugged at the seams of your dress. “I-I’ll go change.”

“Yes,” he sat up. “I shall as well.”

Disappearing into your room, you tossed your day clothes off then slipped on a nightdress. After pacing around the floor for a few moments, you gathered the courage to go out into the hall and knock on Lucius’ door.

It was opened as if he was standing right behind it.

He wore just a plain, tattered tunic, and said nothing; yet, you caught his eyes run down you before immediately bringing them back to your face. You were not even in his room yet, and already your body grew warmer.

“May I come in?” You asked.

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside and you entered.

Somehow, you were no longer man and wife; you were two people who had just discovered a strange, yet burning, feeling that you both held for one another. A feeling that you were both afraid to say aloud…because then it would be real.

The only light in his room was from the moon just peeking through the curtain of his one window. Looking around, you saw that it was still just the bare minimum; a bed, a small table beside it with a lamp, and a dresser. The only others things of note were his sword leaning against the wall, and just a few dirty clothes on the floor.

“I-I tried to clean before you came.” He mentioned.

“Is the rest under the bed?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

Before you could change your mind, you pulled the covers off one side of the bed and slid under them. Glancing behind at Lucius, you saw him wear a look where you knew he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“That’s usually the side I sleep on but-.”

You rolled over to the other side. “Are you content now?”

He wheezed, moving to his designated side, slipping under the covers. “Very.”

“Good.” You smiled up at him.

His own mouth lowered as you could see him thinking. He then said. “I don’t expect us to do anything.”

You watched as his eyes dropped from you, as if it was too invasive just to merely look. Thinking from only your heart, you scooted closer, resting your hand on his arm. You ran your fingers up and down his muscles, but then guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

“Okay?”

He hummed, pulling you just a little closer. “Yes.”

“And we’ll just lay together?” You whispered. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

And that’s what you did. The compete truth was that you would caress him only to remind yourself that it was Lucius and not Geta. His arms, his back, his face…he was nothing like him.

After a few more nights, you told him that as you both lay awake, unable to sleep. He had pulled you on top of him that night, saying that you could see his face better in the moonlight. You only giggled, hiding your face in his chest; even that was too much for you.

It was easier to tell each other things in the darkness. You always knew that, but with being in the same bed (you had not gone back to your room for a week), the words flowed out of both your mouths.

“After my father died,” you said one night as you laid on your side facing him. “I would stroke my own hair or even my arms and pretend they were someone else’s. Even when I was with Geta.”

Lucius stared at you, then immediately began to caress your cheek. You shut your eyes, sighing at the feeling.

“I never thought I’d be able to sleep next to another woman again.” He whispered.

“And now?” You looked into his eyes.

He stopped his movements, but did not remove his hand. You watched every part of him. How his chest heaved shallowly, his arms tensing ever so slightly, but his eyes…gods his eyes. They were heavy as they looked at you; a look that made your heart flutter and not shutter.

Swallowing your fear, you sat up and inched closer to him. Your face hovered above his, and your breath heated his skin. His hand continued to trace shapes about your cheek, and shutting your eyes, you placed your lips upon his.

It was the gentlest kiss you ever shared with a man.

You had pulled away, dreading to see how he felt. When your eyes befell his gentle smile, and his other hand came up to cup your face, you kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.

You climbed upon his lap without pulling your lips away from him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sat up, his own arm encircling your waist and drawing you impossibly closer.

Lucius parted from you, and as you whined at the loss of his lips, they soon settled upon your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your chin. Your heavy pants turned to soft grunts as he kissed down your neck, his mustache scratching your skin in just the right way.

Your hands settled into his hair the lower he traveled, moving your night gown off your shoulder to kiss your collarbone. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated from him, and only then noticed you had been for a while.

Oh, how you wished you could bottle up his laugh, his strength, his stubbornness, and get drunk every night. His kisses only added fuel to the fire that was your desire for him.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, and your body, once enflamed, ran cold.

“No!” You tore yourself from his lap, nearly falling off the bed.

Lucius said your name, leaning forward on instinct but soon stopped once he saw you crawl away. “I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. All you knew was that you needed to go, so you did. Cradling yourself in your arms, you got up from his bed, rushing out of his room and into yours.

You half expected him to knock on the door, then, when you wouldn’t answer, him yell and curse you before breaking it down. Yet nothing of the sort happened. You heard his own door open, and you saw his shadow on the other side, but he did not touch your door. He left after a moment of waiting.

When his own door shut, did you finally cry.

You told yourself that night, you would wake up far earlier than Lucius would so you simply wouldn’t have to see him.

When you awoke, you did the exact opposite. You laid in your bed, trying to return to sleep, only to be forced to lie in the dark. The sun rose into your room, and you heard Lucius’ door open. Still, you did not get up.

It was quite comedic, actually. With your door still shut, he knew you were still home. How he tried his best to keep quiet for you, yet his footsteps had always been heavy, the front door had always creaked, and you could always hear him cursing under his breath every time.

When you knew he had left the house, that was when you stood from your bed, slipping on your sandals. You didn’t bother changing out of your nightdress, leaving your room, and then the house.

Lucius was amongst the chickens when he saw you. He didn’t bother hiding the surprise upon his face at the sight of you. You walked to him until there was little space between you.

“Last night-.”

You took his hand from his side, placing it upon your face. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as if it was natural. Kissing the palm of his hand, you trailed it down to your clothed breast. He breathed your name with hesitance, but you shushed him. You held his hand there, not taking your eyes off him.

“I will show you, one day.” You told him. “I will show you the mark Geta had made. The one where I myself can scarcely see it, yet I know that it haunts me. But now…” You brought your other hand up to his face, tracing your thumb over his lip. “I just want you to understand.”

He kissed the pad of your thumb, nodding. You embraced him, and he held you with both gentleness and ferocity. The rest of the day carried on as normal, yet you aided him with the chores on the farm.

You went to bed with him that night, but it was the first time he did not entrap you in his arms. You knew he was still afraid of hurting you, but you would be a liar if you said you weren’t thankful for the space.

Still, he would feel your touch every day; whether it was something as small as brushing his hand, or as substantial as kissing his cheek.

As the both of you lay awake one night, you played with the sleeve of his tunic.

“Could I lie on top of you?” You asked.

Lucius looked over at you, nodding. “You never need to ask.”

“I want to.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I never want to force you to do anything.”

His eyes fell to your hips before returning them to your face. “I’ll tell you if I wish to not do something. I hope you know you can as well.”

“I do. Would you like to touch me?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You moved his hands to your hips, which he held firmly, yet not enough to hurt you. You leaned down so your lips touched his.

“No teeth.” You said.

“No teeth.” He repeated.

Lucius sighed into your mouth as you kissed. Despite how you were on top of him, the kiss was sweet, shy even. When you pulled away, you trailed your lips from his cheek to his ear.

“Do you dream about me?” You rasped.

He said nothing, and you continued to kiss every part of his face besides his lips.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his Adam’s Apple. “I want you too.”

“Yes.” His breath hitched.

“What was I doing in your favorite one?” You kissed his pulse point.

“You,” he breathed sharply through his nose. “you’re touching yourself.”

“Would that please you?” You sat up in somewhat surprise, resting your hands on his chest. “To watch me do so?”

He shook his head. “I want to do what pleases you.”

It felt foreign to hear someone say they want you to feel good. Instead of cowering from it, you faced it head on. You kneeled for a moment, hiking your gown up to your hips before sitting back on your ankles, exposing yourself to him. Lucius’ jaw clenched at the sight of your naked center, and he drew his hands away from your hips, falling them into fists upon the mattress.

“I wish to watch you as you watch me.”

Without looking away from you, he drew his hand down to his cock, pulling it out from under his tunic. Your eyes grew just a hint. There was no doubt upon him being more well-endowed than others, but it was still different from how you imagined.

Shutting your eyes, you trailed your fingers over your cunt, your thumb playing with your clit. The sounds of Lucius’ smothered grunts, and the skin of his cock on his fingers only added to your pleasure. Digging deeper and moving faster, you felt a coil within your stomach tighten when you opened your eyes and saw as Lucius’ gaze bore into yours.

Light moans escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, watching the man beneath you take pleasure from his own hand. It was him chanting your name like a prayer that sent you over the edge. With your eyes shut, the coil within you snapped, and pleasure filled your veins.

Not long after, you felt a warmth coat your nightdress. Opening your eyes, you looked down and saw the white-hot residue of Lucius’ release. Your gaze drew to his cock, still clutched in his hand, yet red with droplets of white running over his knuckles.

You don’t know what possessed you to, but you lowered your mouth down to clean him with your tongue.

“Gods be good!” He huffed, laughing your name.

“What?” You wiped your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Grinning like the devil, you slid off the bed, walking towards the door. “I hope it’s a pleasant one then.”

He sat up. “Where are you going?”

“To change. You dirtied me as well.” You teased.

“Take one of my tunics from the dresser.”

It almost made you laugh that he didn’t want you to leave for even a second. You opened the top drawer, grabbing the longest tunic you could find before facing him. “Close your eyes.”

He laid on his side, putting a pillow over his head. Many would find it strange how the both of you would see the most intimate parts of yourself while doing one of the most intimate acts together, yet you didn’t want him to see you naked.

But Lucius never thought of it as strange. He knew what you had been through, and never once judged you.

When you were clothed, you slid into bed, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re a good man, Lucius Verus Aurelius.” You whispered. “I will tell you that until the day you die, or when you finally believe me.”

He squeezed your hand, relaxing into your touch. You never slept so peacefully until that night.

You always had to see him whenever he would touch you so intimately. There would be nights where there was only a single candle in the room either while he caressed the swell of our breasts, or the inside of your thigh as you sat on his lap.

His fingers were too much for you at first, but he never ridiculed you. When you whimpered at the feeling, he retracted them, kissing your eyes. You asked him again to try, and he whispered praises into your hair as the pain from a dry spell soon turned into pleasure.

It was usually at night did these moments of exploration occurred. In the day, the most you would ever do was kiss. That is, until the first time you cut his hair since the discovery of feelings.

“I don’t want to get hair on your floor.” Lucius said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of your bed. It was hotter than sin that day. He wore nothing but a loincloth, but that barely did anything to help him from the heat. You wore essentially a thin shift that would usually be under your dress; yet again, because of the heat, that was all you wore.

You sat on the bed, legs draped over his shoulders as you cut his hair. “It’s your floor too. You built the house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t slept here for a while now. Besides, I will clean up.”

“I had no idea you favored doing domestic work now.” He turned and pressed a kiss to your knee.

You slapped the back of his head. “Don’t move! I’ll give you a bald spot if you do so again.”

“Yes, my mistress of the house.” He joked.

“You’re horrible.”

“You just told me I was a good man not so long ago.”

“And I can just as easily revoke that title.”

He stayed silent the rest of the time, but not from any underlining anger. Simply from his at ease posture, you knew he was smiling.

He smiled more those days.

When you were finished, you tossed your scissors aside, but Lucius’ hands settled upon your thighs, not allowing you to get up. You scoffed.

“What is it?”

He turned to face you, kneeling up to meet you. “I wish to try something, but only if you wish it as well.”

You rose your brow, but smiled, kissing his nose. “It will be difficult if I do not know what it is.”

Without drawing his eyes away from yours, he slid his hands up your thighs, bringing the bottom of your shift with it. It seemed normal at first, but once he lowered his mouth, your chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I want to kiss you there.” His breath caressed your cunt and you mewled at the feeling. “I think you’ll enjoy it, but we don’t have to.”

Your heart changed from beating in fear, to then in anticipation. You loved how he kissed your lips, and every inch of your skin that was not covered, what would it feel like to have his lips there?

Kissing the top of his head, you laid on your elbows, nodding.

“Let me hear you say it.” He nosed the inside of your thigh.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Please.”

He lowered his mouth back down, pressing the lightest of kissed onto your center. You groaned through shut lips, only for them to part open as the hairs of his mustache tickled you whilst he began to lap at your wetness.

Tossing your head back, you sat up, running your hands through his hair, unconsciously rolling your hips to meet his mouth. His groan reverberated through your body, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lucius, Lucius,” you babbled his name until it didn’t sound like a word.

His nose bumped against your aching clit the same time his tongue penetrated your cunt. You yelped as that familiar, tightening feeling swept over you. His half-lidded eyes would stare up at you every once in a while, as he would continue to drink from you as if he had been stranded in the desert. Just as you were on the brink of release, you drew him away from you.

“What-what is it?” He huffed. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his before scooting further up the bed. With one last breath, you pulled your shift over your head, revealing your bare body to him. His gaze ran over your figure unashamedly.

“Come here.” You beckoned.

He crawled onto the bed and over your body, yet still looked at your face. You took his hand and laid it over your breast. His body ran cold at what was on the side of it. A bite mark.

“He branded me all those years ago.” You confessed. “And it has not left since.”

Geta…

You ran your hand up his chest. “I love you, and I trust you with every part of my body. I need you to know that.”

“I love you.” He echoed, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the mark and you gasped lightly. “I have for so long now; I…I need you.”

“Then have me.”

He sat back on his knees, unwrapping his loin cloth and tossing it to the floor. Precum leaked from his sweltering cock as it stood upright like a pillar. You crawled over, kissing every inch of his face and climbing into his lap. He drew his arms around your waist, his finger tracing circles into the small of your back.

“I don’t know how long I will last.” He puffed heavily. “It’s been so long.”

“I just want you inside of me.” You kissed his jaw, taking his cock into your hand and sinking down onto it. It had been a while for you too, and while you were soaked, it was not enough to completely subside the tightness. “Just…wait.”

“I could die happy if all you wanted was for me to remain still as you’re above me.” He said into your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin because that was the only way to remind you that he was still there. The further you sunk down on him, the easier and more pleasureful you felt.

“I’m going to move now.” You said into his shoulder, and you did.

Slowly, at first you relished in the quiet slapping of skin and the breath moans leaving both you and Lucius’ lips. He trailed a syrupy line of kisses down your throat until he bowed his head to place them upon your chest.

“Your name,” Lucius said into your skin. “tell me your name.”

You gave him a look as you rolled your hips into his, yet sighed your name.

“Again.” He breathed, latching his lips around the tip of your breast.

You did.

“Again.” He kissed the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into his touch, saying your name a third time.

He repeated your given name, than following it with ‘Aurelias’. Your movements stilled, yet he did not care.

“You are the most cunning woman I have met, and you are my wife.” He stated, never looking away from you. Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw the same for him, and you gave him a messy kiss before resuming faster this time.

After months of being called a name that did not belong to you, especially whenever in the bedroom, Lucius was doing everything to remind you that you were yourself again as you felt pleasure.

It felt as if, after two years, ‘Julia’ was finally gone.

You chanted his name as if it was your favorite prayer, burying your hands in his hair and kissing his lips.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…”

Because, just like you, how long had it been since his true name was uttered whilst in the throes of pleasure?

He moaned into your mouth, holding onto you tighter. You squealed when he rose up onto his knees, latching your legs around his waist and only crying out sharply when your throbbing clit ran across his pubic hair.

“Come on, come on,” he urged into your ear. “I know you can give it to me.”

“Lu-Lu-!” You moaned, running your nails over the thick field of muscles that was his back.

He said your name over and over again, until it was one word that was the end of you.

“Please.”

You came with your vision blinded from the state of euphoria you had reached. Lucius still held you above him even as his legs began to quake, bouncing you on his cock. You felt as though you were suspended in air when his groans stammered, and you felt strings of his cum paint the walls of your cunt.

Slowly, he lowered the two of you onto the mattress, laying you on your back like you were the most precious treasure in the world. You kept your legs around his waist, breathing with him with your chests glued together from your sweat.

“Lucius-.” You began, trying to shift under him.

“-Just,” he grunted. “just another moment. Please.”

How could you deny him? Every kiss he gave was loving as he laid upon you. His cock had grown soft, and even you were aware that you could’ve fallen asleep if you weren’t careful.

When he pulled away from you, you let out an involuntary whine.

“I thought you wanted me to get off you?” He kissed your stomach when he stood up.

You shoved him playfully. “Just clean me up and come back.”

“So controlling.”

Still, he did what you asked, bringing a soaked washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning you. You groaned out of both the cold water hitting your hot skin, and the heat from the air itself.

“We should’ve waited until night.” You whined.

“Why?”

“I’m suffocating from the air outside!”

Lucius hummed, tossing the washcloth aside and looming over you. “Then that forces us to wear nothing today, so that we might cool down.”

You nodded. “Perhaps you aren’t as feeble minded as I thought.”

He settled behind you, tossing an arm over your waist and pulling your back to his chest. Even though his cock pressed against you, the two of you were completely exhausted from the heat of the day’s work, and the heat of what took place only moments before.

The only sound was that of the cicadas singing in the summertime. Sometimes, a breeze or two of wind would bounce the curtain off the window, but for the most part, just the even breathing you shared with Lucius was all you could hear.

Lucius’ mustache rubbed your skin when he placed a kiss to your neck. “What’s going on inside of your mind right now?”

You grinned. “A proper wife would say that I was thinking of you.”

“But that’s not what it is.”

“It’s something that has nothing to do with anything of note.”

He squeezed you. “Spit it out, woman.”

Sighing, you felt a sense of dread in your heart; both for your thoughts, and also how your husband would react. So, you tried your best to explain it.

“Do you even wonder how you will be remembered?” You began. “Spoken from mouths? Written in books? Painted on walls? They’ll remember Lucius, the Lost Son, the Last Gladiator…What will they remember of me, if anything? Rome’s Cleopatra? Her Delight? A whore to the twin emperors? I like to fantasize that they will name me the first woman who sat upon the emperor’s throne, even if it was as the last of its consul. Yet, even if they name me…I will be Julia. The name of a slave, the name I only accepted when he would press me into the bed so roughly. I only survived because I would need to tell myself that he was doing all of it to Julia, not to me.”

It felt quieter in that room, even though the sounds outside did not cease. Lucius gently turned your body towards him, and he stroked your face with the back of his hand.

“You’re crying,” he uttered your name, frowning.

You wiped your eyes, wanting to hide from him. Yet, he did not allow it, pulling your hands away from you and wrapping them around his shoulders.

“Would you wish I remain silent, or share with you what is in my head?” He asked.

“Talk to me.” You answered.

“I never cared of what history would see of me.” He stated. “Even as a boy. I know that we are different in most aspects of life, but I believe it serves no one to wonder away how we will be viewed long after we are dead. I do not care if or what a stranger thinks of me in a lifetime later. I care how Atticus and Diana see me. I care what their children think. Above all, I care of what you see me to be.”

You pressed your head against his. “You’re pigheaded and quite foolish sometimes.”

“And it matters you say that.” He pulled you closer. “Because that is what you will tell others when I pass on.”

“You know I don’t think that is all you are.” You remined him.

“I do.” He nodded. “I will know you for your wit, and your protective nature, and your kindness.”

“I never truly thought of myself as kind.” You gave a pained smile.

“That is how I see you.” He kissed your brow. “And what I will say with my last dying breath.”

You wondered how such a man as himself could exist at the same time you did. A man who hated you prior to everything yet laid with you in bed. A man who treated you with a tenderness you never thought possible.

A man who could be the last person on earth with you, and you would only feel at peace.

You did not need to say anything to him. Simply by the innocent smile that spread across your lips, did he know. You fell into the most comfortable of silences together as you laid naked in the summer heat.

The both of you were lost to time as we all shall be one day.

Perhaps you lived on that farm for the rest of your days, or perhaps you moved to a different land.

Perhaps you had ten children, perhaps you had only one, or perhaps you had none and were content with each other’s company.

Perhaps you died before him, perhaps he died before you, or perhaps you both passed onto the Elysian fields together.

All that truly matters, at the end of all things, is the life the two of you led together, and what you and loved ones remembered the most of it.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #hanno x reader #lucius x reader #lucius verus x reader #lucius versus x reader #gladiator 2 spoilers #Youtube

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ldrfanatic · 9 months ago

Text

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini

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shesjustanothergeek · 7 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch

Chapter One: My Dream

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Let's celebrate the first episode of season 2 with a new story! I'm publishing this before the show airs, so let's say a tentative prayer in case the first episode is Blood & Cheese. Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: sexism (it's a patriarchal feudalistic society), brief descriptions of childbirth and death related to it, Alicent being delulu.

When Viserys Targaryen's wife, Aemma of House Arryn, had failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy, a girl was a welcomed result. It proved not only to Aemma herself and her King Husband that she could produce a child but to the realm that there was hope for a son, a much-preferred result.

“My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?” - Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

If a daughter were to be born seconds before a brother, it did not matter. He was the heir. If she was born decades before a boy, it did not matter. He was the heir. Or so the realm believed until the reign of Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Son of Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen, Grandson to the Old King Jaehaerys.

Queen Consort Aemma Arryn died in pursuit of something she could not control, screaming, wailing, begging her husband not to cut her open, but he did not listen, for the birth of a son was more important than the life of a woman.

The infant Baelon Targaryen died a day later, leaving King Viserys a widower with only a daughter with the same fair skin and hair as the woman he murdered. The woman who laid slain on her birthing bed, bright blue irises now glassy, blood pooling from her womb, was given a Targaryen funeral along with the Heir for a Day, as her good brother called him, her last surviving child whispering, “dragon fire” through tears, with the encouragement of the same man who lusted after her and the throne.

The result of a mother’s and son’s death gave way to grief and anger. Viserys, blinded by the insults levied against his dead child, broke centuries of tradition and named Westeros’ first female heir Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Daemon Targaryen was furious at the abuse of being cast aside for a girl of ten and four and took to Dragonstone, the rightful seat of the Iron Throne's successor, with his whore, Lady Misery, an enslaved Lysene sold into the sex trade that became the Prince's favorite mistress.

Daemon did not hate his niece. He loved his family far more than anyone believed, so he surrendered when the Realm's Delight flew on her dragon to confront her uncle.

Less than a year later, not nearly long enough to mourn the death of two people, Viserys Targaryen married Alicent of House Hightower, daughter of the Hand and dearest friend to his daughter. The King saw the union as an act of fortunate duty and desire instead of love. On that much, the young Alicent Hightower could agree. Perhaps, he thought, it was a way to ensure his daughter would always have her closest Lady around, but Viserys was a fool . He could not see past his blinding grief and selfish lust that he tore the two girls apart.

Rhaenyra Targaryen's mother was a girl her age, a girl she longed to have to accompany her on Syrax, explore the East, and eat cake, but that was never meant to be. The Gods provided as quickly as they took, and her lifelong confidant viewed her with such hate and distaste that Rhaenyra soon began to consider her the same.

“Stepdaughter,” Alicent called her at the Princess's wedding feast to Ser Laenor of House Velaryon. Her voice laced with enough venom, and her dress so green you would mistake her for a snake. This gave Rhaenyra a sickening feeling in her gut, which soon hardened into one of cool indifference.

And that was how they lived.

Silent and icy indifference as Queen Alicent walked through the Targaryen halls of the Red Keep in Hightower Green, birthing the King his first surviving sons and second daughter.

However, there was a moment of repreave in the Queen's and the Princess's glacial flippancy when her forgotten ally fell pregnant for the first time.

Alicent could not help herself from caring for her old friend during her first pregnancy. She quickly fell back into the role of her Lady, supplying Rhaenyra with food, oils, clothing, and occasionally companionship during the quarrelsome nine moons.

The Queen had almost found it within her heart to forgive Rhaenyra for her lies and false swearing beneath the Heart Tree all those years ago, and she did until the labors when she saw the brown tuft of hair atop a young babe's head.

At the time, Alicent did not have a moment to contemplate what that meant before her friend screamed, holding on so tightly to her hand that she thought it might break as the rest of the infant emerged. The babe's face was so purple and cord wrapped around their neck that Alicent nearly cried, fearing life had repeated itself. The nursemaids quickly cut the blue and pink veiny line that connected the child to its mother, turning the babe upside down and spanking it on the back until its cries rang out throughout Maegor’s Holdfast.

A girl.

There, screaming and curling their once lifeless fist, were you , the firstborn child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, only by a mere moment, finally breathing and wailing as they swaddled you in an embroidered black and red cloth, a boy soon following.

“What shall you name them, your highness?” the eldest midwife asked, nearly as out of air as Rhaenyra.

“We…” the princess breathed heavily, positioning herself in the birthing chair. “We had only thought of a boy with the help of Lord Corlys. Jacaerys,” she panted, her cheeks tinged pink, either from exertion or embarrassment from being so thoughtless. Alicent did not know.

The nurse holding Rhaenyra’s son passed him to her, all eyes lingering on that same flattened-down dark hair. “Shall we wait for the Prince, your highness?” another question, holding the unnamed girl.

“I think,” Rhaenyra groans, shifting her weight to account for the new one, “we shall be waiting for a while should my husband suddenly return from his travels.” She glanced at Alicent, watching her once closest friend pick at the skin of her nails. She grinned, a brilliant idea coming to mind as she ordered the maid to give her daughter to the Queen.

Alicent's doe eyes widened as she accepted. She peered down at the tiny bundle before her, still crying, purple face now a deep red and full of life. The Queen did not know what came over her as she leaned, bringing the child’s blotchy forehead to her lips, inhaling the unique scent only a newborn has. She noticed the muscles around where the babe's brows should be twitching, opening her eyes to reveal a mirror of Alicent’s own looking at her.

The Queen forgot for a moment that she was not her own and that she should be alarmed that the child's eyes bore no resemblance to their parents. Yet the Queen continued to smile down at the small fidgeting bundle in her grasp, her arms wiggling themselves out of their confines to clench and unclench. The cries now became softer but still there. Sounds that used to cause Alicent great distress now soothe her uneasy soul like a salve to a wound.

“What shall we call her, my Queen?” Rhaenyra questioned, a crooked smile on her face as Alicent broke from her revere. Her plush lips parted in surprise, looking as if a deer caught grazing alone in a field.

The Queen appeared bewildered, unprepared for such a monumental task; all faces turned to her. “I… I am unsure, Princess. I did not come prepared for such an honor.”

Rhaenyra kept the same lopsided grin on her lips, showing the tips of her white teeth. “Tis all mine. It's an honor to have the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms name my first born daughter.”

“An honor I accept gladly,” Alicent rushed, worried that her refusal would shatter their peace.

She paused, pursing her lips in thought. Despite having three and another on the way, she had never named a child. Helaena was the closest she had ever gotten, a familiar name within the Reach but made to fit the traditional Targaryen spelling. Alicent would have something to herself, one tiny sliver of something that belonged to her, and she was unsure what to do with it. She was confident that Rhaenyra would be content with any name she chose, but she wanted it to be unique, to mean something more than just a word.

Alicent thought of her mother then—her darling mother, whom she barely had a chance to spend life with before a fever took her. A mother that her father said she looked like an extension of, and suddenly, only one name felt right.

The Queen was constantly conflicted about every choice she made, every move. From the food she ate to the clothes she wore, Alicent always worried herself over it, wondering if she had made the correct decision, but in this, she was sure. No man, woman, or God could sway her from this choice. It was right. The Queen could feel it in the marrow of her bones that it was so.

“Aelora.”

Aelora, my light.

The King came bursting moments later, a servant dressed in a crimson gown, white apron, and cap standing anxiously beside him. He immediately went straight into the room, brushing past his wife in favor of his daughter. Alicent felt a sour taste in her mouth at the notion, pulling the quiet lump tighter to her chest.

“A boy and a girl!” Viserys excitedly hollered, Rhaenyra passing Jacaerys to him. Anxiousness settled over the birthing chamber, the midwives and maids observing with worrisome eyes at the head of brown hair. “ Ah! And I see they have inherited my favorite cousin's hair.”

He held the newborn with a reverence Alicent had never seen with her own, and she stepped back into the shadows of the onlookers. She peered down, catching the babe's eyes shut and face slack, still with the fresh scent of birth. She brought you to her forehead again as she took in this brief moment of joy, nose nuzzling the infant’s as she grunted at the intrusion.

“Aelora, the Gods’ Light. My shining light,” she whispered so softly against the babe's satin-smooth skin that it drifted into the air like dust, lost in the wind.

“Oh, and her eyes, too!” Viserys beamed, hoisting Jacaerys into the air as the wetnurses squealed in terror. “She will make a fine queen one day, and should the Gods allow it, you, a king.” Rhaenyra laughed at her father's antics, already planning the children’s marriage. She was too high on the feeling of birthing not one but two healthy babes, a boy and a girl, no less to care. Alicent's amber eyes flicked to her husband and then to your plump face, a frown pulling her lips.

Aegon had come quickly and without fuss. Though Alicent was merely a girl of ten and six when it happened, the moments leading up to it frightened her thoroughly. She worried her nails down to the quick, the pink fleshy beds exposed and bleeding whenever she would use too harsh of a grip.

She knew of what happened to Aemma Arryn, that the babe was stuck and couldn't turn to leave the womb, at least to the Maester’s belief. He gave the King a choice, not the woman who was writhing in pain as her body contracted, to either let the process play out with the chance that the child and his wife could perish or have him slice her open from hip to hip, dig through her guts and blood to pry the child out. Aemma Arryn had no voice in the matter from what she heard from the midwives, as her husband allowed a man to pull Prince Baelon straight from her womb.

Alicent did not want to face the same fate and prayed to the Mother day after day, night after night, until her knees were yellow and blue, and even then, she continued her efforts. She was alone in all this, with no one to confide in. Her father had told her to do her duty when she expressed concern. He assured her the King would allow no such thing if she did everything correctly. He offered no comfort, and Alicent longed for her dearest Princess. Her prayers were answered when that fateful day came, and the labors lasted no more than an hour.

She birthed a healthy boy with blonde hair and purple eyes, but even then, Viserys did not act the way he was now with Rhaenyra's children. A means to end all the uncertainty of an heir, her father said in words of solace. She hadn't understood what he meant then. Rhaenyra was the heir, crowned Princess of Dragonstone, and Lords swore allegiance to her across the realm. To Alicent, there was no uncertainty until there was.

Until Otto Hightower planted the rot that festered and spread in her mind that the girl she grew up alongside, the girl she spent so many days and nights with, the girl that had said she would forget her duty and fly off across the world eating nothing but cake with her friend by her side, would murder Alicent's children so they could not depose her reign.

She did not believe Rhaenyra was capable of cruelty, but then again, she had once considered her incapable of lying to her and was proven wrong.

She began to fuss as if the infant in her embrace could sense the Queen's unrest. Her delicate little face scrunched up as Alicent bounced her softly, cooing soothingly. She smiled despite her unpleasantness within, unfazed by the sudden outburst, unlike when Helaena had her fits as a child. Her daughter would have to meet her niece and nephew, along with Aegon. Aemond was too young. She wouldn't be able to keep a close eye on him.

Though he was half the size of Aegon when he was born, he had grown twice as fierce. At barely three years old, his nursemaids had to ceaselessly follow the moonlight-haired boy less than a step away lest he jump down a flight of stairs just to see if he could. Once, when Alicent dismissed the servants from Aemond's chambers as he readied for bed, she turned her back on him for a singular blink, and he opened his balcony doors and climbed over the railing to get a better view of the night sky. Alicent remembered how he kicked and screamed as she yanked him from the ledge, saying words and phrases she never knew, even at the age she was now.

“My Queen,” the wetnurse called like she had repeated herself as Alicent looked at the girl. “The young Princess needs her first feeding.” The woman held out her arms for her to hand over the fussing bundle, a calm but concerned expression on her face.

Alicent refused, curling her limbs as the babe squirmed, her cries becoming ear-piercing screams. She knew the child needed to eat but could not force her body to release the girl. It was as if her very bones denied the movement that was not keeping the hungry infant close to her. The fleeting thought that Alicent could feed the girl herself crossed her mind, but she shook it away, realizing the ludacrisy of it. It was improper for a woman of nobility to nurse their child. That's what the maids were for, the Queen told herself.

The wetnurse peered at her curiously, walking a pace closer, but Alicent stepped back as if she attempted to harm her. “The King has not held her yet,” she protested, looking towards her King-Husband in an attempt to prolong her time.

“All is well, Alicent. What kind of King refuses to let their babe grandchild eat?” he jested, tilting his head to the side playfully and exposing a gaping smile. It made Alicent want to vomit.

When she doesn't move to listen, the Queen stared at her husband like her silence could serve as a rejection of his words. Viserys sighed as Rhaenyra watched with piqued interest, wordlessly handing Jacaerys to another maid.

“Alicent, give her the child.”

She hesitated again, her brown eyes flickering to Rhaenyra when she did not offer for Alicent to stay while the maids worked. Once again, she mused bitterly, watching the infant intently as she relented. I give my dream away to you. A dream that was never indeed mine.

The Queen bowed to the Princess, congratulating her on the success as she took her leave, hand splaying over the swollen stomach of her emerald green gown. It felt too tight, the once smooth fabric now itching at her skin, the fine hairs on her arms catching between the threads.

How stupid she was to believe in Rhaenyra’s kindness. She felt like a girl again, the same girl who stood beneath the Weirwood, listening to her friend swear on her mother’s memory that she had not lain with a man, only to find out there was moontea delivered to her chambers.

A sudden kick was sent to the Queen's abdomen, halting her brisk pace as she doubled over within the pale redstone hall. Ser Criston Cole arrived moments later, helping her rise to her feet. She soothed the afflicted area with her palm, no doubt the cause being her own making. Despite the growing life inside of her, the Queen has now done it four times. Alicent believed the moment she laid her wide amber eyes on yours was the closest she had ever felt to being whole with someone in her life. It’s as if the child's very being was now a part of her, and every moment she was away, it felt as if she was missing a piece of her soul.

Rhaenyra flaunts and does as she pleases, lies, and tricks all she pleases. It made Alicent furious with a rage she had not felt for nearly a decade. Aelora will not become like her mother. The Green Queen will not allow it, even if she has to twist and shape the clay of Aelora's mind into something of her own. Aelora is her dream. She is the Gods' shining light, and Alicent will be damned if she allows Rhaenyra to blacken her glow.

Septon Eustace's Recount of Princess Aelora I Targaryen's Early Life

The young Velaryon princess, later taking her mother’s namesake, grew into a spritely and mischievous child, playing jests on her Septa and Prince Aemond with the aid of her brothers and the eldest of the Queen’s children, Prince Aegon. She did not develop into a traditional Targaryen beauty with blonde hair and violet eyes; instead, she had a golden chestnut crown with eyes to match. Many said she resembled Queen Alicent, though if anyone made the error of voicing it, they faced Princess Rhaenyra’s wrath.

Though her features were plain by Targaryen standards, the realm rejoiced in her beauty. Lords and ladies commissioned portraits of her countenance throughout the kingdom, proudly displaying a halcyon halo of red rubies adorning the top of her divine facade. The common folk coined the name “The Gods' Light” for the sweet girl. A glimpse of her was as close as one would get to the Maiden, and they cherished it whenever Princess Rhaenyra's faction made rare journeys to the Grand Sept.

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I'm excited to write for my favorite war criminal, Visenya Incarnate, Aemond Targaryen. I'm just super happy to write Aemond smut! I'm also taking a different approach to this story because it will solely be based on the show (to the best of my ability), not the book, and will be released with the same progression. It will have accounts of the reader's life through the eyes of the Maester's. Of course, there will be some cannon divergence and whatnot, considering we're introducing a new character into the fray. This fic will also be a lot darker than what I've written in the past, including content such as childhood sexual assault and the after-effects of it, self-harm, depression, suicide, and unhealthy sibling dynamics/relationships.

This story is told from the second person's perspective. The reader only has a name for the sake of a title and the description of Strong features.

Y'all have no idea how fulfilling writing has been for me. It's given me purpose when I've felt like I had none. It's helped my mental health by giving me an outlet for self-expression and a good source of distraction from all the worries I have in life. I wish I could get paid for this!

I hope y'all will enjoy the story as much as I will writing it, and of course, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. You genuinely have no idea how much your support means to me, but I will continue to express it in the best way I know how. ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Ps. Alicent's mom's name is unknown in the show and the book, so I'm creating a name that combines my original idea with traditional Targaryen spelling.

Pronunciation: Uh-lore-uh, Ae-lore-uh

Origin: Latin

Meaning: dream, dreamer, shining light.

Biblical Meaning: God is light, God's light.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf

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okkotsuus · 6 months ago

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"YOU'RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY I LOST YOU" (katsuki b.) !

features: katsuki bakugo

contents: fantasy au. angst. hurt/comfort/more hurt. mutual pining. barabrian!katsuki. fem!reader. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again. kidnapping. grief. crying. implied panic attack. major character death. no beta we die like men. 3.9k

notes: i've been yearning desperately to make bakugo say stoick's famous line from httyd2 (my second favorite movie)... if there's interest i'm considering continuing this into the canon verse with it being these two 'reincarnated'.

tagging: @saexy (for enabling and encouraging me in killing off characters) & @meristryker (for enabling me in the gc like a real one)

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die. watching the loving smiles of his parents, the gentle caress of his father's hand to soothe his mother's unbridled anger: it made his stomach churn.

yet, at the tender age of seven, while on a trip to a nearby village to discuss the war shifting on the horizon, he finds himself absolutely smitten by their chieftain's daughter. wide e/c eyes peeking out from behind her mother's leg, hands clutching onto the hem of the long skirt.

katsuki finds himself enamoured in that instance, seeing sweet you, looking at the boy with such curious eyes. he stomps over to you: temper even fiery in his youth. his hand grabs onto yours as he hauls you out from behind the safety of your mother.

under the dim candlelight of the meeting room, flickering flames cast dancing rays across your skin. his chubby little face is scrunched into a scowl, tugging you out of the room and into the courtyard with a tenderness that betrayed his expression.

"i'm katsuki and you better not forget it!" his pitchy voice calls, still dragging you behind him. he looks over his shoulder, soft red eyes narrowed in what was an attempt to be intimidating.

but when he sees the relaxing of your eyelids, falling slightly in contentment, with a warm smile that rivals any feeling of victory: the mask of indifference slips in a blink of an eye. red dusts over the slops of his face, baby-fat painted the same carnelian as his eyes. his small hand grips tighter onto yours, as if he never would let you go.

your chubby little face stretches as your smile widens into a toothy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "got it, katsuki, i'm y/n!" he swears your voice is just like the lullaby his mother would hum while rocking him to sleep, bringing a rush of warmth through his chest.

that day, katsuki bakugou falls terribly in love with y/n l/n.

the two of you are deemed inseparable, hands always connecting like opposing poles of a magnet. pinkies intertwined stronger than any woven cloth. it's as pure and innocent as it can be.

if one were to see y/n, then it was irrevocably certain that katsuki was a few steps away. it sends rumors spiralling through the lands that there will be a union between the bakugo barbaricum and l/n dynasty. you're only eight when there's an attempt made for your hand.

the thought of two families as powerful as you and katsuki's joining was a fearful thing to many. it spelled doom for many weaker civilizations, those who had dug their own graves with their actions.

your family, blessed be you to have been born to loving parents in a world such as this, easily rejects the many proposals. the l/n dynasty is in a state of power where they are not forced to fend for their village: allowing you this freedom.

running through the streets of his stronghold, chasing each other for the sake of some game that was the farthest thing from either of your minds. katsuki feels whole when you are at his side. the world doesn't seem so ugly, he doesn't feel so angry, everything sings the hymns of the heavens.

he can't pull his ruby eyes off of your form by the age of fifteen. the katsuki you had known, baby-faced with a slight stutter, has began to fill out into a man. his shoulders broaden and begin to carry thick cords of muscle. the chubbiness of his cheeks begins to give rise to sharper angles. his whiny voice is pushed aside by a more gravelly tone. he shoots up like a sprout, hunching over slightly in faces that used to fit him so easily.

but he isn't the only one who is growing into his frame. your shoulders soften at the corners, collarbones visible with every slight movement. your baby fat begins to settle and collect on your hips, rounding them. those toothy grins of yours become framed by pretty lips, always looking soft as a pillow. clothes that used to drape over your like a sheet now feel tighter in certain places, stretching over curves that popped up overnight.

the two of you don't know what to do with yourselves, stolen looks when the other isn't looking. you still hook pinkies, but the touch sends flares of heat running up the back of your neck. it's like you were just meeting each other for the first time all over again.

katsuki feels like a damn sap with the way his heart thunders under his skin: threatening to burst out. he's too taken to notice the heat that was rising to your face whenever he was around, the way your hands nervously would grip onto the swaying fabric of your skirt. too blind to see that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

hurried words, lingering touches, sneaking glances, the two of you had every hint of love right in front of your faces. yet, there's a hesitance that lingers in the back of young minds: afraid that falling in love would end up with no one catching them.

unsurprisingly, katsuki is the one who jumps first. it's a quiet night, the moon is high in the sky. his breath puffs out in front of him like smoke, winter beginning to show herself once more.

you looked too beautiful under the soft azure glow that the celestial sky casts upon you, he simply couldn't bear another moment without you known how much his very soul ached for you.

on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he whispers the words like a prayer, voice softened and gentle for once in his life. "y/n... you plague my every waking thought, i cannot let my heart beat any longer without it being yours."

e/c eyes widen as your head snaps to him, lips parting in shock. katsuki beats you to it, rough palms (once baby-soft) cupping your cheek with a tenderness he was unaware he possessed.

the stars illuminate the sunkissed slopes of his cheekbones, showing the fine lashes that fan out over his eyes. katsuki was ethereal, in every sense of the word, it catches your breath in a hitch. your mind stumbles through everything you could say right now, desperately trying to find the perfect response.

but when the pads of his thumbs drag over the apples of your cheeks, leaving a buzz in the wake of his touch, all rational thought leaves as you allow words to flow like a stream. "i have loved you longer than i have known you, katsuki." your voice is hushed, only filling the small space between the two of you: like a secret that only he and you would ever know.

it sends a trill up your spine when his eyes visibly soften, his face had been growing more and more sharp by the day but only when he was with you did the curve of his cheeks soften. he turns back into a boy around you, as you turn back into a girl when held so gently between his hands.

katsuki surges forwards, nose clumsily knocking against yours, teeth colliding with your own. he's inexperienced, never having kissed a girl, much less even though of kissing anyone but you. you both are a mess, giggling softly through messy pecks smearing over each other's faces. it feels like you're both those giddy kids once more, chasing the other through the cobbled streets of your village. he makes your heart sing.

it was even harder to be apart from him now, hands fully clasped together as you walk through the streets of either of your hometowns. yet, no one is surprised. neither of your parents nor his even bat an eye when you announce the courtship at a family dinner.

love is as natural as breathing for you and katsuki. inherently you have always known exactly what the other needs. he knows just how much you like the wildflowers that grow en-route between your homes. you know just how much he likes when you rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

it's young and dumb, a rush of big emotions and smiles that stretch your cheeks so far they ache. once you both are eighteen, katsuki turns the courtship into a betrothal. an elegant gold ring, with a garnet slotted right in the center, it sits pretty on your ring finger. his band is thicker, small e/c gemstones scattered along the surface. when in battle he loops it through a chain around his neck: pressing a kiss to the ring before charging forwards.

the world has known y/n l/n and katsuki bakugo have been in love for nearly twelve years, official for three, and betrothed for one. the bakugo barbaricum and the l/n dynasty have began making their plans to unify upon the wedding. it sparks a wave of unease in the badlands.

all it takes is an emissary sent from the dark forest for your world to crumble into shambles. a demon who seems to be the land's scourge reincarnated, hand that turn all to ash, pillages your beloved village. he comes in tow with a mimic and a fire mage. destruction rains as you are brought to the center as their singular demand is you.

your eyes lock with the demon's red eyes, a color that had made you feel so safe until now. the hair on the nape of your neck stands pin-straight as his hand extended towards you: palm up.

a flurry of emotions rush through you like a burst dam, memories of katsuki at the forefront. you want to be selfish, to damn him and his band of criminals to hell, to fight back despite the gravity of the situation. but he is bringing terror upon the people you swore to protect with your life.

so, you step forwards, soft hand sliding into his own. never had a rough palm felt like daggers against your skin, never had you so violently despised the way carmine shines in the light of blue flames.

to save your people, your family, the home you have known your entire life: you go. swept away in black mist. the last thing you see of that place is the bakugo horde rushing towards the gates, your eyes lock with katsuki's before the void claims you.

katsuki lets out a guttural scream as her charges head first into the miasma, falling onto the ground as the last wisp flows just through his fingers. his fist slams against the ground, hands gasping at the dirt you had just been on. he allows himself to cry in front of someone other than you, a wail echoing through the ruins of your village.

that day, you disappear off the face of the realm. no matter how many search parties are sent into the dark forests in the badlands, they all return empty-handed (if they return at all). katsuki keep his ring around his neck, so it beats against his bare chest with every movement: like a reminder of how it felt when his heart actually beat .

scars wind around his arms, around his biceps, over his forearms, across his shoulders. his face is hardened, permanent frown on the lips you used to kiss so tenderly. he's angrier than ever, fuse short as his attention span.

he is a shell of the man he had been, going through the motions of survival but never truly being alive.

this persists for a grueling two years. for seven-hundred and thirty days. for seventeen-thousand five-hundred twenty hours. he is separated from the only person that has ever felt like home, the woman he has loved longer than he knew how to read.

he masks it behind his ego, boisterous laugh to hide the ringing in is ears that hadn't been able to stop. he's more violent the field, less forgiving when in training with kirishima. the explosions that thunder from his palms produce a blackened smoke that lingers and settles in his lungs like a fog.

yearning hits him late at night when he lays alone in bed, a bed that you had once shared with him. silent tears pour, running down the sides of katsuki's face as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. his breath feels short as his chest heaves to get air in. the man's mind is clouded with the look on your face as those bastards took you. he can still remember every single little twitch of your expression when you finally saw him. he remembers the way your breath hitched. he remembers the tears that began to pool at the corners of your eyes.

but, most of all, he remembers not seeing you: for what feels like the first time in his life.

katsuki cannot recall when he finally fell asleep, or if he ever even truly did. his dreams are plagued with you anyways, so the line between memory and dream is thin as a tightrope.

he has a dream that he makes it in time to save you and wakes up alone. that one sticks with him for months, hanging over him like a shadow. if he was only a minute sooner, a stride faster, reacted quicker. maybe you would be in his arms right now instead of gods know where.

relief comes in a rumor that circles in a tavern that a woman with h/c hair and e/c eyes was spotted wondering through the dark forest. katsuki doesn't hesitate, he makes no effort to send out a scout party. he rides at dawn, horse hooves beating against the grass in a frenzied gallop as he makes his way into the badlands.

none of the rouges or thieves hope to stand a chance with him, the smart ones don't even try. he vanquishes the less fortunate with a single swing of his cutlass. the man doesn't stop to rest, only to water his horse and allow it to graze while he catches a brief nap.

his horse comes to a stop right outside the dark forests, whinnying in rejection to enter. katsuki doesn't blame the poor thing, this was the kind of place people went with no intention to come back from. he dismounts, not tying his horse off: it would return with a whistle.

the forest is eerie, yawning opening that is reminiscent of a gaping mouth. but he didn't fear. because at this point, he'd rather not come back if it meant he wasn't coming back with you.

footfalls crunching against leaves and sticks echo through the dim lit treeline. the canopy is so thick that it completely obscures the bright sunlight katsuki has just been under: the perfect place for criminals to hide. the trees creak and groan, as if the land itself was breathing and living.

only when he hears the snap of a twig does he stop, his head snaps around, a flash of h/c darting just out of the corner of his visions. the man's heart stops as he stumbles to pursue, not minding the whipping of low handing branches against his face. not when he could see you darting through the underbrush.

he finally sees you in the full when you run into a path dead-ended by brambles. it's really you. y/n, his y/n.

but you look over your shoulder with such a forlorn look it makes his heart ache in his chest. you don't believe that it's really him. "toga, this isn't funny, it's cruel to keep making me see him." your voice is rougher than he remembered, as if your throat had been worn. it makes his fists clench at his sides.

the mimic had been wearing his face, just to torment you?

just the thought of it sends a rage burning deep in his chest. he has no way of knowing what you have been through. katsuki couldn't protect you: like he always feared he would fail to do.

his steps toward you are hesitant, ruby red eyes softening the second he sees your face. his heart is pounding out of his ribs, it makes him wonder if you can hear it.

a rough hand reaches up to roughly tug the chain that held his engagement band around his neck, the links snapping and clattering to the ground. he doesn't even look at it. with a gentleness, he holds out the ring to you.

your eyes dart back between the metal and him, hands tentatively reaching for it. the thundering race of your heartbeat is all you can hear. your hands, once soft, now rough as his bush against his own as you roll the ring between your fingers.

katsuki's heart breaks when he feels the callouses on your fingertips. he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you, tears fighting their way to prick at the corners of his eyes. he looks up at you like you are the light in the world, a goddess before him. in a way, you are, because he had prayed to every deity to hold you again, even if it was only once more.

"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you." his words come out in a rasp. thick emotion coursing through his chest; nearly choking him.

he watched your eyes widen, tears pooling as you too crash onto the ground. your arms wrap tight around his neck, face pressed side-by-side with his own. strong arms encircle your waist in an instant, pressing you closer with an urgency.

"katsuki... oh gods, katsuki..." you don't even know what to say, just repeating his name like a desperate prayer. your cheeks are wet and your chest aches but you don't care, because he's finally here.

lips clash desperately, just as messy as the kiss the two of you first shared five years ago. it's a mess of teeth and tongue as your fingers tangle into ash-blonde hair, his hands finding the back of your head and your hip. he sucks the breath out of you, as if wanting to absorb you into his being.

and you'd let him if he asked.

carmine eyes search for e/c, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls back to study your face. it's like you never left. your eyes are tired, there's some grime on your cheeks, a soft scar above your eyebrow that you've had since you were thirteen.

the softest smile spreads on his face, forehead pressing against yours as his lashes flutter shut. katsuki lets out a deep sigh, one he had been holding for nearly two years now.

warmth blooms in your chest as everything finally settles back into place like puzzle pieces. your hearts beat in sync, you draw breath when he exhales, everything is right in the world once more.

but your heart skips a beat as your eyes open to see that cursed white hair with horns peeking out from below it. tomura shigaraki. a wicked smirk on his lips as he's leaned back against a tree, simply watching.

your hands grip tighter onto the back of the shawl draping over katsuki's shoulders, breathing turning shaky and ragged.

no. no. no. they couldn't take this from you. not again. not after how hard you fought to escape the league just at the fleeting chance of being able to see the man you love. this had to be some cruel joke, right? a trick of the light, maybe...

even you aren't naive enough to believe that, your eyes close as you lean against katsuki, head burying into the crook of his neck. your fiddle with his hands to slip the ring back onto it's rightful place on his third finger. a part of you had already resigned to being ripped away again.

after two years with the demon, you learned firsthand what shigaraki was capable of. and you were not going to allow katsuki to find it out as well.

your legs shook as you stood, a weak smile given at your lover's confused look. "i'll always love you, 'suki, you know that." his eyes widen as his head nods, brows furrowing.

"then let me keep you safe."

carnelian irises widen in realization as his head turns to look back, growl ripping from his chest at the sight of the scourge of the realm's protege. his hands immediately reach for the hilt of his sword, explosions popping in his palms.

but you're already beginning to approach. katsuki seizes you in one arm, hauling you away like the day you first met. he runs through the forest with you: knowing that shigaraki would not allow the both of you to leave.

he bounds over winding tree roots, holding you steady and tight against his chest. the impending sense of doom begins to crawl up the back of his neck, but he needs you to be safe.

with you in his arm, he stumbles out of the forest, shrill whistle leaving his lips as the sound of hooves grows closer. with ease he sets you up on the saddle, but he does not join. you realize immediately what is about to happen. "katsuki-"

"no. it's my turn to keep you safe, y/n. i've always loved you, and i always will. in every life i will find you, and in every life, i will protect you." his words bring tears to your eyes as you desperately stake your head, sobs bubbling past your lips.

shigaraki creeps out of the forest and he delivers a harsh smack to the horse's haunches, sending it galloping away. within a second later a hand is reaching through katsuki's chest, mocking laugh against his ear.

"how heroic. i'll make sure you die slow, barbarian."

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die.

that was until he lay on the edge of the forest floor, lifeblood leaking from the gaping hole in the center of the chest. but he wasn't anguished: because he died for you, the only person who he would ever love.

okkotsuus 24

517 notes · View notes

thesoobfiles · 17 days ago

Text

a dance of two swords – l. haechan (m)

word count: 6.4k

summary: boy meets girl. boy falls in love with girl. girl happens to be an assassin sent to take care of boy. yk, classic love story.

prompt: “all that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes!”

tagging: @kookthief @honajoong

a/n: thank you so much to everyone who voted and helped me decide to make this one part! this is my first time writing for an idol, so I hope this doesn’t go terribly wrong! but it’s an AU (heir!Haechan x assassin!reader) so I think there’s room for a few OOC moments ☝️ also, i never give the voice behind the comms a name so feel free to imagine it as any NCT member or idol of your choice! most importantly, this is NSFW! if you’re a minor, please don’t interact!

Thursday, Sept. 1, 20XX

“Whoever chose this bright ass yellow as the school-issued uniform needs to be studied…” You mumbled under your breath as you begrudgingly put your arms through the blazer of your school uniform. Smoothing out the wrinkles in a frustrated fashion, you looked over your appearance in the bathroom mirror before a voice rings out through your comms.

“(Y/N), relax. Remember, everyone else is wearing the same uniform, so it’s easier to blend in… Besides, isn’t it nice to wear an official high school uniform? Or have a real first day of school? You know, experience a normal childhood?”

Let’s rewind, shall we? You aren’t necessarily your run of the mill senior high school student. No no, you’re an assassin. Born and raised in the confines of an underground facility your home country swore they didn’t have anymore. Extensively trained in hand-to-hand combat as well as quite skilled in a few close-range weapons such as the sword, the nunchucks and your personal favorite, the dagger.

You were flown out to South Korea so you could handle a special issue that your Korean counterparts were unsuccessful with: taking care of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, often called “Haechan” by friends, is the son of an incredibly successful man. Lee’s father runs Spade Inc. It’s like if you were to take Google, Samsung and Apple, roll them into one company, and put one man in charge. Obviously, this means that Lee and his entire family are worth tons of money; however, no one has been successful in tapping into this gold mine.

You were about to change all that.

“Short skirts were never really all that desirable to me, in all honesty. God, i’d be flashing the entire student body if I were to bend over and tie my shoes…” you replied with distaste as you returned to your reflection in the mirror, spinning around so that you could fix your bow.

“Besides, it’s much easier to kick ass in my polyester.” You say, walking out of the bathroom with your bag slung over shoulder.

“If you say so…look alive, target is approaching.”

You look up just in time to see the man of the hour: Lee Donghyuck.

He’s walking straight for you, or at least it looked like he was. He makes a sharp turn as soon as you open your mouth, and it feels like he walks past you in slow motion. You turn your head in his direction with your mouth still slightly agape, he looks at you from the corner of his eye and he smirks as he walks into the men’s bathroom.

You close your mouth, clear your throat, and pretend that wasn’t the tiniest bit embarrassing.

“Or not… my bad…”

“Yeah, it IS your bad…” you whisper with a bite as you check your watch.

“12:20… lunch period is almost over…” you sigh as you walk away from the bathrooms and toward your final class. Luckily, you share this class with Donghyuck, so you’ll see him later. You actually share 3 out of 4 classes with him, but you can’t really take Sex Ed III with him since each block is separated by gender. A precaution taken by the school to avoid unnecessary ruckus in the classrooms. No matter how old they get, boys will be boys.

You push the door of the classroom open and scan the room for potential threats. Unless two girls giggling in the front left corner counted as a threat, you were in the clear. You settle into a seat in the back corner and whip out your laptop. The seat is by a window and it’s in the very last row, the best seat for emergency exits and observing your target. No matter where Donghyuck sits, you’ll have the perfect visual of him.

As soon as the warning bell rings, you feel someone plop into the seat next to you. You turn your head to your right and suddenly, you’re seeing the visuals of Lee Donghyuck a LOT closer than you initially expected. You mask your surprise the best you can, blink twice, and return your focus to your laptop.

Boy, the photos do him no justice whatsoever. This man is nothing short of drop dead gorgeous.

“Not even a hello, darling?” you hear from your right.

You furrow your eyebrows and whip your head towards the voice, “Excuse me, do we know each other?” you ask incredulously.

“Not yet. I’ve seen you in a few of my classes and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Lee Donghyuck, but you can call me Haechan.” He flashes you a smile with his right hand extended in your direction.

At the same time, a familiar voice rings out through your comms.

“Damn, could you sound any more enthusiastic?”

You roll your eyes in response and take his hand. You’ve read plenty of documents about Donghyuck and his personality, so you know that he likes it when they play hard to get. You extend your hand in his direction and introduce yourself.

“Kim Suji.” You lie through your teeth as you watch him tenderly grab your hand and kiss the back of it. You’d be a liar if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“A Korean name?” he asks curiously. Which is entirely fair because you don’t look like you have a single Korean bone in your body.

“From my mother’s side.” You immediately respond.

“아 그럼 수지씨의 한국어를 어때요? (Ah, then how is your Korean?)” Haechan asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“나쁘지 않아요, 동혁씨. (Not bad, Donghyuck.)” you reply with a smile as you retract your hand and face your laptop.

“Wow, he really tried you like that… Good thing you took those Korean classes over the Japanese ones…”

You chuckle as the final bell rings.

“Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Ryu and welcome to Advanced Song Writing!”

You can feel Donghyuck still looking at you, but he looks way when the teacher starts calling names for attendance.

You get through the class with no issues. You focus on paying attention and before you know it, there’s only 5 minutes left of class.

“Alright class, thank you for bearing with me through the first day formalities. At the end of the semester, you’ll have to turn in a song that follows the criteria in the rubric I mentioned earlier. I’ll post it for everyone’s convenience.”

The teacher pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, looking at the clock on the back wall of the classroom.

“Alright, there’s only a minute left. Everyone, look at your desk mate. This person will be your partner for the end of semester project. Please take good care of each other and let’s get along! That’s it for today's class! See everyone tomorrow!”

The bell rings seconds after her ending comment and the classroom erupts in noise. Friends high fiving, acquaintances exchanging numbers and peers introducing themselves to each other.

“Alright, Donghyuck. It looks like we’re part-.” You stop short as you turn your head to find an empty seat.

“What the…” you look down at his desk to find a note.

Sorry Suji... Needed to slip out for a business meeting as soon as class was over, but here’s my number ~

010 – XXXX - 0606

- Haechan <3

“Wow, writing love letters already?”

“Oh, zip it. You already know he’s a huge flirt. He must’ve slipped out when the bell rang…” you say to the empty classroom as you place your belongings in your bag and make your way out of the room.

“Donghyuck getting past YOUR senses? Oh, someone alert the press…”

“He’s clearly a challenge… I mean, you wouldn’t fly out a foreign operative for kicks and giggles…” you reply matter-of-factly as you put your wireless earphones in, so people don’t think you’re talking to yourself on your walk home.

“Alright, you got me there. I’m waving the white flag of surrender. No need to so sound defensive…”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the 10th time today and hit up the convenience store on your way home. If there’s anything you love about Korea, it’s the super easy meals sold at the CU. You grab a few triangle kimbap and bring them to the counter. You give the cashier a couple bills and bow before taking your leave.

A short walk leads you to the front door to your “home.” You unlock it and scan the room for any signs of tampering. Not that there’s much that can be tampered with. Staying in an apartment used only for short term missions, there isn’t that much to see. One room. A foldable table and chair, a mini fridge and a really crappy couch. Being met with no signs of tampering or potential threats, you put down your bag, store the food in the fridge and sign off on comms.

“Talk to you tomorrow, (Y/N). Stay safe.”

“You too.” You remove your earrings and put it in the special box given to you when you were first given this assignment. You place the bow with the hidden camera right next to it, lense face down.

You plug in your laptop and hit the showers. After your shower, you sit down at the dinner table with your kimbap and look at the note Donghyuck left you.

“Referring to himself as Haechan when we aren’t even well acquainted… what a forward guy…” you scoff as you enter his number into your phone.

To: 010-XXXX-0606

“Hey, it’s Suji. Is this Lee Donghyuck?”

You hit send and take a bite out of your kimbap.

“Not bad…” you utter to yourself when you already feel a vibration.

From: Lee Donghyuck

“No need to government name me… Aren’t we friends? ~”

You scoff. This boy is way too friendly for his own good.

Suji: “We just met today and you’d consider us friends?”

Donghyuck: “That’s how you get closer to people you want to get to know better ~”

Suji: “Aren’t you supposed to be in a business meeting?”

Donghyuck: “We just wrapped everything up… Your timing was quite perfect actually…”

Suji: “When and where do you want to meet?”

Donghyuck: “Aw, do you miss me already? ~”

You needed a moment to pause and let the audacity of this man sink in. You couldn’t help but laugh because in all your years of performing missions, never have you met someone who has come off as strong as Donghuck. Well, you know you’re a beautiful girl. That’s normally why you’re assigned to cases where the target is male. They more often than not fall for your looks, which sooner or later leads to their demise.

Suji: “For the project, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck: “You’re no fun </3 We can meet tomorrow after class. My place, unless you don’t feel comfortable enough?”

Huh, even when he’s flirting, his manners are still intact. You’re reminded of your first meeting with Donghyuck, when he grabbed your hand and tenderly placed his lips to the back of your hand… You didn’t show it, but it made you a bit nervous. This is the first mission you’ve been on where the target is not only in your age group, but he’s totally your style.

“Maybe in a different life, we could’ve been lovers…” you whisper as you draft up your next text.

Suji: “That’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Donghyuck: “See you tomorrow ~”

Friday, Sept. 2, 20XX

You walk into class with sunglasses on your head and a mask over your face. If you’re going to Donghyuck’s house today, it’s best to complete the mission as soon as possible. Obviously, you don’t want videos of you entering the premise on file, so you need a low-key kind of disguise. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to have the chance so soon, but the sooner the better.

The classes zoom by and before you know it, you’re in your last class. Your butt just met the chair when you hear a concerned and already rather familiar voice.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to ask, but are you feeling sick today? We can meet at a later date if you aren’t feeling well…” Donghyuck.

“It’s just a precaution. My allergies normally act up around this time.” You brush off his concern as you lower your mask in the classroom. You offer him a smile and he immediately brightens up.

Unlike the other classes, this one doesn’t breeze by so easy. It’s possible that the only reason they went by so quickly was because you had no one to distract you, but this is the only class where you and Donghyuck sit next to each other. It was hard to pay attention to the teacher talk about the importance of bridges when there was a face that you know inspired hymns right next to you.

You put your laptop to sleep. Why? So you can stare at Donghyuck’s reflection on the empty screen. It’s not like you cared about your grades here anyway. You weren’t staying for long, but wow he truly is a stunning individual. His tan skin that was completely free of blemishes, his focused face that still managed to hold a softness despite his well-defined features, his fluffy brown hair that fell into his eyes, but gently caressed the top of his blazer…

It isn’t until Donghyuck looks down to type on his own laptop that you’re snapped back to reality. You quickly jot down some notes on your laptop, so it looks like you were paying attention and not like you spent the last few minutes spacing out to Donghyuck’s face.

Closing your laptop, you decide to whip out your notebook instead. At least you can’t stare at him that way…

The class is beginning to wrap up when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to Donghyuck and raise your eyebrows curiously.

“I can drive us to my place after class if you aren’t busy.” He offers sweetly.

“Sounds great.” You smile, pulling your mask back up.

You walk out together and head to the senior lot. You know Donghyuck drives a sixth-generation Mercedes-Benz SL, but he doesn’t know you know, so you just follow behind him. You reach his car and he opens the door for you and guides you in.

“What a gentleman.” You muse as you sit in the passenger seat. He smiles and walks to the driver side.

“I’ve been told girls like being the passenger princess.” He chuckles.

“You’ve been told? It’s not first hand experience?” You joke.

“Well, I don’t normally drive girls around haha…” he replies as he starts the engine.

You were about to make another quip when he rests his hand on the back of your headrest. Good thing your mask is still up because the speed in which your jaw snapped shut is equivalent to that of a mouse trap. The reason? You’re currently looking at Donghyuck reverse out of the student lot, one hand on the wheel and his neck turned towards the rear windshield.

Your eyes travel from his face down to the veins on his neck, only to land on his left hand that rests so nicely on the material of the steering wheel. You could imagine a few more places where his hands could rest just as nicely…

You snap your head towards the windshield and close your eyes. You don’t remember acting this horny even as a pre-pubescent teen during your formative years. What the hell is wrong with you??

“The drive isn’t that long, but it isn’t short either, so you can put on some music if you’d like.” He offers.

Donghyuck’s house is far too nice to be located in Seoul. His family lives in the same house they’ve lived in since he was born, which is in Goyang. Roughly a half hour drive from SOPA, nothing crazy.

“Thanks…” you reply softly. Picking up his phone from the console, you type in a song you know he’ll love.

Girl, close your eyes Let the rhythm get into you Don’t try to fight it There ain’t nothing that you can do

“You like Michael Jackson??” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Of course. His songs are nothing short of legendary.” You reply with pride as you queue a few more songs and return his phone to the console.

He laughs in disbelief and starts singing along.

“I wanna rock with you. All night ~”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You knew he could sing but boy, is he a damn good singer…

You’re learning so much about Haechan that the files can’t teach you… All you had to go off of were a few recent pictures and pages of facts about him. It’s easy remembering the fact that he’s a Junior Black Belt holder or that he has a passion for music, but hearing him sing in real time is something akin to an out of body experience.

Haechan serenades you all the way to his house and all you can say is that calling it a “house” is a grave understatement. He lived in nothing less of a castle. It was clearly passed down from generation to generation as you couldn’t possibly imagine a building of this stature being built in today’s day and age.

He pulls up to the front door of his not-so-humble abode and parks. Exiting the vehicle, he walks over to your side and opens your door once more. This time, extending his hand towards you so he can help you out.

“Wow, this dude must’ve had some serious etiquette classes drilled into his brain. I cannot imagine a normal guy doing all this jazz for you…”

You can’t help but mentally agree. Unfortunately, the men of today are so incredibly uncultured, it’s past the point of humor.

“Welcome home, Young Master Donghyuck.” You hear an aged voice say as soon as the door swings open.

“Good afternoon, Hajoon.” He replies with a soft smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Lee residence, Miss Suji.” Hajoon turns to you and does a 90 degree bow.

“Thank you for having me.” You reply, returning his bow.

“Cameras are down.”

You smile weakly as you walk through the front door of the Lee residence. You adjust the sunglasses on your head and lower your mask while slipping off your outside shoes and replacing them with the guest slippers provided by Hajoon.

“Young Master Donghyuck, Miss Suji, would you care for a freshly squeezed beverage?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Haechan speaks for the both of you.

“That would be lovely, Hajoon.”

Hajoon bows and turns to a doorway that you assume leads to the kitchen.

Haechan begins walking to the foot of a spiral staircase, probably leading you to a room where you can work. He turns to you with a smile.

“You MUST try Hajoon’s fresh lemonade. It’s the best you’ll ever have.” He winks at you as he proceeds walking up the staircase.

You stand there at the bottom, doe eyed.

“…i-if you say so…” you stutter.

“Did you just stutter?? (Y/N), you do remember that this dude flirts with anyone and everyone, right?”

You give the side eye to no one in particular, but you know who it’s for. Of course you knew that, but you were just a girl after all. No matter how well trained you were, is it so crazy to believe that a little attention from a hot guy could have this effect on you?

“Do NOT let your personal feelings get in the way of the mission.”

Good thing Haechan is a good few steps in front of you, so you reply a bit snappily.

“Please, I’m not 5. I’m perfectly capable of following instructions.” You mumble under your breath. Although, you weren’t really as determined to end his bloodline as you were in helping him further it…

You reach the top of the staircase and follow Haechan down the hall to a room with double doors. He pushes them open, and you’re met with a very large and beautifully decorated room. Bookshelves lining the walls, paintings adorning the walls without, a wooden table in the center of the room with one larger-than-average couch and a tray of snacks in the center.

Haechan spins around with his arms wide open in a “ta-da” like manner. You raise your eyebrows and nod in amazement. You almost forgot that his parents are incredibly well off and have the funds to buy 50 more houses like the one you’re currently standing in.

“Hajoon will bring the drinks up when he’s done.” He states as we walks over to the couch, urging you to sit first.

You smile at him and take a seat. You on the right-hand side and Haechan on the left-hand side. He immediately reaches for a cracker on the tray and offers it to you. How nice. You move to grab it and he quickly yanks it out of your grasp. You furrow your eyebrows and try again only for it to be moved just out of your reach.

You squint your eyes at Haechan, and he chuckles. He’s holding the cracker in his left hand, dangling his arm over the couch, taunting you. With every inch towards Haechan, his back reclines further and further into the couch until his head lies on the armrest. You put your left hand on the back of the couch for leverage and stretch out your arm once again in an attempt to grab the snack.

He giggles and it all happens so fast. Your left arm slips, he drops the cracker and you face-plant right into his chest.

“Shit, is your physical trainer a brick wall??” you ask as you prop yourself up with your left hand once again. Your right hand flies to your nose and rubs it for some sort of relief.

Your eyes are still squeezed shut in pain as your right hand hovers over your nose. Haechan is silent even after you pose your question. You open your eyes and you see that you’re only a few inches from his face.

You freeze in place, right hand still over your nose as you lock eyes with the man you were tasked to kill.

His eyes bore into yours and they sparkle as they do.

“Hi gorgeous.” He whispers as he smiles at you.

You grab a pillow from beside you and smoosh it over his face and no, it has nothing to do with your heart racing a mile a minute. Death by asphyxiation. You can work with that.

Well, you could’ve worked with it until there was a knock at the door. Even though it was slightly ajar, you assume it’s protocol to knock before entering.

You roll your eyes and remove the pillow from Haechan’s face, allowing him to sit up and fix his appearance. Although, he misses his hair because it still looks an absolute mess. But you have to admit, he looks quite cute with his hair all ruffled… Hajoon enters shortly after his knock on the door and he sets the lemonade down onto the table. He bows and takes his leave, shutting the door as he does.

All of a sudden, you hear static. That’s not good. There must be some kind of frequency blocker in the door and now there’s no way for you to communicate. That’s fine. You don’t need him to complete your mission.

You finally remove your right hand from your face only to see blood covering your palm. Your eyes widen, but Haechan is the first to speak.

“Oh dear…” He hurriedly grabs a napkin from the snack tray and hands it to you. You grab the napkin from Haechan, and you retrieve a hand mirror from your bag. Assessing the damage, you carefully wet the napkin with the condensation from the pitcher of lemonade and gently wipe at your face. It’s really quiet, which is unusually for Haechan, so you look up only to see him already staring at you.

“All that blood looks good on you… It really brings out your eyes!” he awkwardly compliments you.

He has fear in his eyes and yet you burst out laughing.

You’re too busy laughing to respond. It isn’t until you’ve got all the giggles, laughs and chuckles out of the way when you speak up.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were so funny…” you trail off as you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye.

His chuckles are unsure, but his nerves give you confidence. So, you put a hand on his thigh, and his breath hitches.

“A compliment is hardly the first thing that comes out of the mouths of people who’ve made me bleed…” you say cryptically with a sly smile on your face.

He blinks at you with wide eyes,

“What? Has no one ever flirted back with you?” you ask, turning your body so you’re facing him. You inch closer and closer and he inches further and further until his head lays on the arm rest once again.

“Or are you frightened about what happens to people who’ve made me bleed?” you smugly inquire as you place your knees on either side of Haechan’s pelvis, his legs straightening onto the couch cushions in response.

You rest your right hand on Haechan’s cheek and it’s hot to the touch.

“What’s the matter, Haechan?” you pout and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“In all the times we’ve talked, you’ve never been this quiet. Tell me… what’s on your mind?” you say as you continue to caress his cheek.

He stares up at you, in an almost awestruck manner.

“You called me Haechan…” he whispers.

You break out laughing for the second time in the last 10 minutes because truly Lee Donghyuck must be one of the funniest creatures on Earth.

“Oh Haechan… regardless of the ambiguous nature of this conversation, you’re surprised that I called you ‘Haechan’? You are such an interesting creature…” you decide as you retract your hand from his cheek and put your full weight on Haechan’s hips.

You reach over to the table so you can grab a cracker, since you were robbed of it earlier. You hear him inhale and release a shaky exhale. You return your eyes to him and see that his eyebrows are knitted, and his eyes are closed.

“You are so incredibly pretty, Haechan. As anyone ever told you that?” you question, and he whimpers in response.

“You talk a big game for someone who folds so easily…” you note as you fiddled with your shoe.

“No one’s ever taken charge before…” he breathes out.

You quickly release the dagger stored in the sole of your shoe and swiftly press the cool metal to the flesh on Haechan’s neck.

His eyes flutter open and never has a man looked more attractive in your eyes.

“Even in the face of danger, you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You say in amazement as you slowly return to sitting on Haechan’s pelvis, keeping the blade close to his throat.

“Oh my god…” he groans, bucking his hips into yours.

You tilt your head to the side. You can’t tell if it’s the thrill of having his life in the hands of others or if it’s the praise that gets him, but you’re determined to find out.

“Is that what you like to hear? You like hearing about how pretty you are?” you ask and he hurriedly nods his head, eyes still closed.

“Let me see those beautiful eyes, baby. Talk to me.” you purr, moving his bangs to the side and he slowly opens his eyes. They’re a bit glossy but they sparkle like they house the stars of a thousand galaxies. You can’t help but hold eye contact with the boy. It’s almost as if you’re stuck in a trance, until his voice breaks you out of it.

“Please…” he whispers, giving you the most sincere pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Please?” you ask, encouraging Haechan to use his words.

“Please do something. Anything.” He pouts and he begs and you can’t help but mentally decide you would give Haechan absolutely everything he ever wanted. Although, it shouldn’t be too much given he probably already has everything he wants.

“My sweet boy…” you start, diligently removing the dagger from his throat and placing it on the table. You place your hand on his chest, right where his heart his, and you can feel it going a mile a minute. You smile, tracing shapes over the fabric of his sweater vest with your fingernail.

“It’s yours.” You finish and close the distance, placing a sweet kiss to Haechan’s pouty lips. He reacts immediately and his hands fly up to hold your cheeks and deepen the kiss. You flatten your hand on his chest and run your other through his soft locks. You lightly grasp at the roots and he moans into the kiss. You gently bite his bottom lip and he opens up immediately. It’s like playing a game. Everything you do has Haechan reacting like no tomorrow.

You pull apart to catch your breath and you see a string of saliva stretch between you and Haechan. He gazes up at you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that…” you whine as you push him away and cover his eyes.

“Someone seems a little shy.” He teases with a smirk.

Honestly, as a girl who was raised and trained to be an assassin, you don’t have much sexual experience. Which isn’t crazy to acknowledge because you’re a killer. You bring pain, not pleasure; but there’s something about Haechan that makes you feel emotions you’ve never experienced. All you know is that you wanna take care of him. You take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

You stay like this for a few breaths until you lift your hands to peek at Haechan and find that he’s already looking back at you with those big, beautiful doe eyes. He smiles up at you and gently holds your wrists.

“Sweetheart, what do you wanna do? If you want to take charge, I’ll follow your lead, but if you don’t know what to do, I’ll happily take the reigns.” He offers supportively as he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“I… I want to have control, I just don’t know… how...” You cast your eyes down, deep in thought.

“But I want to try.” You say, determined. Haechan smiles at you, with… pride? You don’t analyze it too much. You remove your hands from his eyes and lower them so that you hold his face in your hands. You come face-to-face with your target and state your mission.

“Lee Haechan, I’m going to take care of you….” You bring his face mere centimeters from yours and place a quick kiss on his lips, “…my way.”

Your hands slide down from his cheeks, over his neck and land on his chest. You open up his blazer and stare at his sweater vest.

“First, we need to get rid of this…” you note. In the blink of an eye, you retrieve your dagger and with one swift move, Haechan’s sweater vest is torn right down the middle. His eyes widen, looking between you and his ripped sweater vest. His cheeks start to warm. You look down and note that his white button up doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Perfect.” You smile to yourself as you open his shredded vest the same way you did his blazer. Compared to the aggressive way you tore his vest to shreds; you slowly unbutton his shirt all the way down to the last button that stops right below his navel. You hear Haechan’s breathing start to get a little heavier. You smirk as you place your hands on his abs. He gasps at the contrast your cold hands offer to his warm abdomen.

Putting your hands on either side of his waist, you lean forward. You start with his cheeks. You kiss the beauty mark right above the corner of his mouth, moving to the mark near the junction between his jawline and his neck and you couldn’t miss the mole right over his Adam’s Apple. With every kiss you leave, Haechan hums in response.

You travel down from his neck to his chest. You slide your hands up his chest and your fingers rolls over his nipples, drawing a high-pitched moan from him. You pinch them and roll them between your fingers, each action pulling a delicious sound from Haechan. He mewls, and moans, and gasps, and every noise is like music to your ears. When you’re done, you leave a delicate kiss to each nipple, which has Haechan’s back arching.

Once again, you use your fingernails and slowly rake them down his abdomen, causing a shudder to rise up Haechan’s spine.

Tapping your nails against the metal of his belt buckle, you look up towards Haechan and like every other time, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are so glassy that you think a tear might fall if he were to blink.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll put you out of your misery now.” You promise, already working on taking his belt off. As you work to remove his belt and unbutton his pants, he’s already raising his hips. You smile as you slide his pants down his legs and toss them to the side, leaving him in his boxers. Well, his boxers and the top half of his school uniform.

There’s a wet patch on his boxers and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why. You rub your pointer finger over the patch and Haechan groans in response. He looks down at you with a pout on his face.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize, lowering his boxers to his thighs. Freeing his erection, you’re met with the sound of it slapping against his stomach and Haechan gasps.

“It’s so unfair that every part of you is so pretty…” you say, gathering the pre-cum from his tip and rubbing it down his shaft.

“Oh my god…” he whispers. With every movement that your wrist makes, he becomes more and more vocal. But it’s not enough. Gathering a small pool of saliva in your mouth, you let it drip out of your mouth and onto his cock. He hisses at the contact, gripping the head of the couch with his hand. You place a tender kiss to the tip of his angry cock, drawing out noises Haechan didn’t even know he was capable of producing.

Since you’ve successfully managed to lubricate him, you get to work. You rub your thumb over the tip and start pumping your hand up and down. His moans truly sounded like heaven on Earth.

“Oh, just like that… please please please…” he pleads. You smile because clearly you’re doing something right. You move a bit faster, making sure you give the occasional squeeze to the base of his cock. Haechan starts writhing.

“I thought you said… I thought… you didn’t know…” he starts losing the ability to speak in full sentences.

“I don’t.” you say, understanding what he wanted to say, “but I appreciate the ego boost.” You quip, beginning to massage his balls with your other hand.

“Ohhhhh yessss…” he drawls. Keeping a consistent pace, you see that his stomach starts to contract, and his breathing gets quicker.

“I’m gonna cum!” he shouts just in time for the ropes of cum to shoot onto his stomach. Your hand stills, unsure of what to do or where to put it so you just continue holding him until he stops cumming. Haechan’s breathing is still heavy but it starts to slow as he comes down. He raises his head and looks at you with hooded eyes.

“You… are a liar…” he huffs out and drops his head again. You start giggling because, who doesn’t like to get praised? You stare at the milky substance on Haechan’s stomach and curiosity gets the best of you. You bring his softening cock to your lips and lick at his tip, collecting any leftover cum with your tongue.

“AH!” he exclaims as his hips buck up towards your face. His head shoots up from the couch and he finds you with a thoughtful expression on your face.

“Sweet… but a little salty…” you note, smiling at him. He lets out a scoff of disbelief as he puts his weight onto his elbows. You let go of him and reach for the napkins on the table to clean him up. He watches you work diligently to wipe the cum off of his stomach. When you’ve got most of it off, you grab another napkin and gather the condensation from the lemonade pitcher, similar to what you did when you were cleaning your bloody nose. You’re almost done when Haechan raises his hand and pats your head. You pause and look up at him with wide eyes, which prompts him to speak.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly as he starts gently caressing your hair.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” you laugh and finish up by putting the used napkins in the little trash bin by the couch. He playfully rolls his eyes.

“I’d be a bit better if someone didn’t mangle my sweater.” He smirks as an expression of guilt crosses your features. You awkwardly chuckle, looking down at his abdomen to see his mangled sweater hanging open. He ruffles your hair, causing you to close your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He jokes, removing his hand from your hair. Haechan shrugs off his blazer and sweater vest, leaving him in his unbuttoned, white button up. You sit up, wanting to give him space.

He drapes his outerwear over the back of the couch and faces you. There’s a look in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Haechan puts his hands out in front of him, flipping them so that his palms face upwards. You look down at his hands and then up to his face. He smiles, he briefly glances down at his hands and returns his gaze to you. Getting the message, you rest your hands in his. He closes his hands in response and gently caresses your hand.

It’s nice, but then in the blink of an eye, he has you on your back and your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at him, surprised by this turn of events. He smirks and comes close to your ear, his hair tickling your nose.

“Now… it’s my turn to take care of you ~”

#nct #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #lee haechan #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan smut #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut

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multific · 1 year ago

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Whatever the Queen Wants

Thranduil x Reader

Summary: On a boring day you have time to walk around, and recall different memories from your past.

You loved taking walks in the woods and your gardens.

Seeing your kingdom bloom and glow just did something to you, it was special.

Spring was your favourite season. Seeing new life everywhere around you made you want to be a mother once again.

You could still recall when your son was born.

Legolas became the center of your world in a simple moment. As soon as the midwife-elf placed him in your arms, it was over.

Both for you and for your husband.

He was the cutest little elfling you have ever seen. Looked just like your husband but behaved just like you.

Even when he was little, you took him out to the gardens on walks, showing him the world. Every single time you looked at all the different rose bushes or hydrangeas all you could see was him as a little elf let's elfling playing amongst them, you just wished you had something to capture that moment with so you would be able to show it to your husband.

Now Legolas was a fully grown up elf, who was more interested in all the different kinds of fighting styles than nature, and also your husband did sometimes had time to spend with you right now he was too busy with his kingly duties, so you were left alone to walk the woods and your gardens.

And that is exactly what you were doing that day. You woke up and somehow amazingly sunny it was that day, so you made your way out to your favorite place in the garden. Your favorite place was where there were these huge hydrangea bushes, all different colors and shapes and sizes you loved every single one of them.

That part of the garden was a present from your husband to you as an anniversary gift. Since he knew how much you adored flowers, he added every single flower that she liked to the garden just to please you.

There were different statues as well in the garden, all of them beautiful.

You left out a long side on your way to your favorite bench. If only you could have the two men who meant so much to you there with you.

You felt so lonely at that moment, it might sound arrogant to some people that the queen was complaining but you really were rather sad that you had to spend such a nice day all alone although you did enjoy every second of it and you did make the best of it, but you still missed both of your boys.

Maybe that's why the idea of having another child was so inviting to you, then you would have finally someone who would need your attention all day long and they would give your attention all day long as well before they grow up. You missed that, you missed having someone who relied on you so much. Legolas it's already too old for him need you in such a way. Even If he did sometimes come over to you asking for your advice it wasn't the same.

When you tried to hint a new baby to your husband but he was too oblivious for your tries or he simply didn’t want to tell you that he did not want another child.

So, you didn’t bring the topic up after that. Although, it did hurt a little bit, you were happy with your life. Even if you felt lonely at times like this, you were happy.

“Naneth,” you heard someone say.

“Oh, Legolas. What are you doing here?” you asked as your son came over to you and sat down next to you.

“You looked lonely, Mother. So, I came to keep you company. Is Father still in a meeting?”

You offered him a kind smile, it warmed your heart that he thought about you.

“He is. But you don’t have to be here, I am not lonely, I have my flowers, you should practice.”

“Nonsense. No training or practice is more important than you, Naneth.”

“Thank you. How was your day?” he always loved to show or talk to you about his training. Ever since he was little he was a quick learner.

“Really good…” then he went on and on about his day. Telling you everything about swords, bows and more.

If you were honest you never truly understood everything he said or referred to but you still listened with a smile. Seeing him be so interested and happy about something warmed your heart.

You listened to everything he had to say. Every single word.

You saw so much of your husband in him. But you were there as well. You still couldn’t believe that you had the privilege to be the mother of this exceptional elf.

“Adar!” said Legolas out of nowhere which made you look the way he was looking. And you saw your husband, walking towards the two of you.

“Nin hén, Nin mel, what are you two doing out here in such an hour?” you failed to notice that the sun started to go down.

“Mother was lonely so I came over to give her some company.” replied Legolas as Thranduil joined you.

“It is getting late, it would be best if we all headed to rest.” you said and both of them agreed. Thranduil guided you towards your chambers after you said your goodbyes to your son.

“We have a wonderful child.” he said as you laid down in bed.

“Indeed, I cannot believe he is so big, I feel like I can still recall holding him as a young elfling.” you let out a long sigh at the happy memory as you felt your husband’s arms move you towards him. “I have been thinking, Nin mel.”

“About?”

“Another child.” Thranduil almost jumped up as you said that.

“A-another?”

“I have been feeling lonely with Legolas leaving us so frequently and with you being in meetings all day. I always wanted a daughter as well, you know that.”

“I do. I know it.”

“It was a silly idea.” you said after his long silence. “Forget it, Thranduil. I’ll be fine.”

“We can have another child. I’m only thinking of ways to ensure it would be a girl.” his confession nearly made you choke on air, then you smiled.

“No need. I would be happy with a boy as well.” you said as you pulled him closer and kissed him.

Thranduil knew, whatever the Queen of Mirkwood wanted, she got it.

Translation:

Naneth – Mother

Adar – Father

Nin hén – My child

Nin mel - My love

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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asvterias · 4 months ago

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𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖧𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Canon-Divergence, Targ!Cest, Implied Mentions of Same-Sex Romantic Relationships, Flirty Undertones, Some Slight Foreshadowing & Typical-Period Homophobia

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Teen!Rhaenyra Targaryen ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, Teen!Alicent Hightower ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, (Brief) Platonic!Ser Harrold Westerling ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader ✘ Teen!Rhaenyra Targaryen, Platonic!Queen Aemma ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dragonrides across King’s Landing is enjoyable as one might think, especially when The Realm’s Delight urges her Lady Y/N to tag along. The female Targaryen royals; Princess Rhaneyra and Queen Aemma seem to admire a certain Velaryon girl, wishing to seek comfort and reassurance for very different reasons.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @username23345 @fae-the-wanderer @hippivanhan34 @harjasblog @feyresqueen @ithemaduh @poopietomuch @starless-nightz @yelenaslyubov @chittakii @laiahernandeeezzz @flowerluzx

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Okay, my first chapter is done, tell me how you like it so far! Sorry for the delay, I was putting some finishing touches. If you wanna be tagged in this book, comment below and say ‘future tag’! Also go check out my tiktok page @/localgirlie, where I post videos relating to this fanfic!

🌊 ✘ 🔥

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣

𝖲𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖮𝗇𝖾: 𝖤𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖾

𝟏𝟏𝟏 𝐀𝐂

𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨’𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

••••

Lady Y/N of House Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, close cousins, and dear best friends, constantly updating each other about their lives. They’d known each other since the many years of childhood and had always been close.

Due to the close friendship between your mothers and political matters between your fathers, your handmaiden always packed an overnight bag whenever your parents decided to visit The Red Keep.

It was a splendid day to ride your dragon, Silverwing, out in the fresh air above the city skies. Simply for the fun, certainly not to convince your dear cousin Rhaenyra to finish her joyride and return to her princess duties.

Were you filled with outright urgency to have her back on the ground? Nope.

Regardless of your numerous attempts, it would have all been worth futile. Rhaenyra didn’t have a care in the world, sparing no expense to those around her. She lived in the moment alone, not doubting what could have been.

Not only was The Small Council hosting a discussion at this very moment but you were late. It would be noticeable the two teenage girls’ absences from the men’s council, wasting no chance to nitpick on the delay. Certainly not to your faces, they’ll be chastising the princess and her dearest Lady to the King himself. No one dared to defile Princess Rhaenyra or Lady Y/N, for the consequences were always quite fatal.

To secretly scrutinize the dragons was one thing but to blatantly insult the dragons was another danger in itself. Best to keep your humble opinion lingering around in your mind if you are smart enough to do so.

So, no you weren’t hurriedly urging the princess to return back to The Red Keep, for the sake of your status. Or the higher sake of hers as a Targaryen princess.

Instead, you allow her to enjoy herself, she requires a breather, and time to develop the recurring sense of another sibling being born. The Royal Targaryen family of three all had anticipated another child as Rhaenyra preferred a baby sister yet held no indifference to the unborn child’s gender.

Soaring and flying through the calm winds, you breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the nostalgic feeling. Going on dragonback was your favorite pastime alongside Rhaenyra, it was no secret nor have you considered it as such.

Allowing the wind to pass through your silver hair as Silverwing released occasional roars, whizzing above the commoners who stopped to glance. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. Every dragonride spent with Silverwing further proved that the beast was displayed in complete adoration whenever you visited her.

You reminded her of her former rider, your great-grandmother Queen Alysanne, whereas she claimed you as her next rider.

The sight was for sore eyes, two female dragons and their female riders, content with each other’s company.

While Syrax was a carefree dragon, Silverwing was quick-witted with her movements. The mother-daughter dragon pair loved their time spent together, often skimming through the high skies and feasting on their well-prepared livestock.

You laughed, pulling onto the reins to control Silverwing’s sharp dodges made against Syrax.

“Would you slow down? It’s not a competition!” You laughed, the grip on your reins firm.

“It is to me!” She shouts back, turning around to face you, her silver hair flowing in the thick wind. You fought back an urge to roll your eyes as Rhaenyra smiled at your acceptance of her unsuspecting victory.

“We should head back to King’s Landing. Isn’t Alicent waiting for us?” You yelled over the sharp gusting winds.

“Yes, she is,”

Once the four of you landed safely on the broken terrace landscape of Dragonpit, you unbuckled your saddle from your waist. You quickly dismounted Silverwing, sliding down from her beautiful wings. As your shoes hit the dirty ground, you run your fingers against her rough scaly skin, gently tracing across it. Silverwing craned her head downward, giving more access to her vulnerable state, cooing as she blinked at you. She purred, shaking her head as you moved to pet her snout.

“My beautiful girl, Silverwing,” You kissed her nose, giggling when she nudged you backward in response. It was a soft shove, barely sending you a few inches away before you immediately embraced her again. She hummed, exhaling roughly, her hot breath radiating onto you.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Rhaenyra teases, sneaking up behind you.

Your interactions were different each time, but so unique in a way. In a way that only you and Rhaneyra could fully comprehend.

In truth, your relationship with the princess was complicated to say the least, typically swerving the line between platonic and romantic love. The Targaryen Princess always held a large role in your heart, but as your age and body progressed, so did your feelings toward her.

But still, you couldn’t openly express your affection for the silver-haired girl, reminded of the period you lived in. Where such love was forbidden and shunned, no one openly hated it but whispering around surely backfired. Then with the consistent whispers follows the judgement alongside the shushed snide remarks. Refusing to condemn yourself to a judgmental life, but once again, you weren’t living based on other’s opinions.

Most of the people who were most likely to talk about you were ranked as handmaidens and other ladies of the court, none of whom had a higher power.

None of those other highborn names were equal to both of your family names. The other common houses owned some land and livestock, but never true power. The real fiery power that House Targaryen solely possessed allied with the blinding sea salt of House Velaryon. Great Valryian houses came with many demands, and luckily you were a combined product of both.

Not when you were a bold Targaryen woman, who reclaimed one of the most notorious dragons.

Therefore, nobody divulged their inquiries about the closeness between the Princess and Lady.

Now, onto Rhaenyra…how could you describe her?

She was truly beyond any simple words to describe her fiery spirit, a true Targaryen woman embodiment, making her even more desirable. Even though she fully understood how her presence affected others, beaming in delight, she’d allow them to swoon over her. Her regal posture and swaying saunter, matched with the stunning outfits she modeled around the castle grounds.

A true princess, indeed.

“Very funny,” You plastered on a fake smile, squinting your eyes.

Silverwing tilted her head at Rhaenyra, almost teasing her to come any closer to you. It wasn’t threatening in any way, just a warm invitation to the reluctant princess. The mother-daughter dragon let out a synchronized shrill of laughter.

Syrax coddled into Rhaenyra’s touch, purring gently, luring the girl into her grasp. The she-dragon had roughly nudged her head against Rhaenyra’s body, basically thrusting her closer toward you, only further signifying true love surrounding the two girls.

Unknowingly to you, the few rushed padded footsteps behind weren’t an over-confident Rhaenyra. Surprisingly, it was a rather shocked and embarrassed princess.

You turned around to be met with an embarrassed Rhaenyra, who tried to keep her cool, failing miserably with each passing second. Her actions made your heart swell in her fondness, eyes twinkling in admiration as she stammered on her forthcoming words.

Making it easier for her, sparing some time to process her thoughts thoroughly. You piped up, tone playfully intriguing.

“Are you embarrassed or flustered, my princess? Or perhaps, both?”

Oh, curse all of Seven Hells! And that switch of sudden formalities sent her brain into overdrive. Yes, everyone else called her princess formally, so it was casual to hear frequently.

But this was coming from you. My princess. She was your princess. You spoke with a clear mixture of elegance and teasing when using formalities on her. It was getting hard for Rhaneyra to control her urges, especially with all these potential witnesses, disguised as workers for the castle. She couldn’t allow you to face dire consequences just for her lack of self-control. Besides, if she truly had the opportunity alone with you, confessions out in the open, this encounter would be very different. All alone in her chambers, with no disturbances, creating an intensified atmosphere, and intimate actions were taken.

During all of your time spent with the princess, she’d never expressed a nerve-wracking emotion such as embarrassment. Even if she hides her embarrassment, your annoying inkling detected it.

It has been a thorn lodged into her side for as long as she knew you. She had hoped that intuition would diminish for your time spent apart. But, sadly, it didn’t, only to flourish and become a source of irritation for the princess.

“Quite frankly, I’m unsure myself.” Rhaenyra maintained a timid voice, struggling to keep eye contact.

You hummed, unconvinced by her staggered voice, supposedly telling the entire truth. “If you say so, princess.”

While Rhaenyra denied your assumptions, Silverwing wasn’t so easily gullible.

However, the older dragon knew the true tension between her rider and the Targaryen princess was more than platonic. Not that the two teenage girls didn’t have anyone else fooled by their closeness. Others had keen eyes, their suspicions being proved right but didn’t dare speak up. Unless they wanted to be met with the terrifying fate of an open dragon’s mouth and the horrid spewing fire following after.

If given the chance, Rhaenyra would protect you, from bold smallfolk stating such accusatory titles unfit for a young princess having close relations with another female, more necessary what meets the eye. The young Targaryen princess would even go against her father’s strict orders, acting out if it regarded you.

How could she not? Especially when you meant so much to her.

Other than that, Rhaenyra would portray the bold daughter of Queen Aemma and King Viserys, the dutiful princess of the smallfolk, and more importantly, The Realm’s Delight, granted by all of the kingdoms to speak upon.

To fall prey to a man’s heart was deemed normal, an acceptance into society. Many people would congratulate the newlywed couple, praying blessings on future children and a great household. God forbid if a woman falls in love with another woman, then it’s considered improper, disgusting behavior.

But being a royal means your love and desire is not your own, but simply a piece of a board game called ‘The Targaryen Dynasty’. Most of the time, it’s unfair, depending on the compatibility of the betrothed or the dedication to developing a certain arrangement that pleases both spouses.

Being a Targaryen meant valuing your duty more than anything. Many gain the demanded power, the dragon blood coursing through their veins, and the ability to claim a worthy dragon.

Targaryens never made their living peaceful, well…some of them thrived on wars rather than peace. Even for one of the greatest houses, nothing else can create its downfall other than House Targaryen itself. Their dangerous dragons were a vital and powerful force. After all, it’s the very symbol used to describe Targaryens and their ascension to royalty.

Death. Dragons. Destruction. That’s all most people think about upon hearing the sacred name of ‘Targaryen’ whispering among many lips.

Is it better to be feared than adored? Would you gain support from genuine love or unwavering fear?

Eventually, Rhaenyra broke out of her trance, embarrassment tinting her cheeks once again.

“Did I break you?” You asked meekly, reaching out a hand for comfort. Stopped yourself halfway, unsure if Rhaenyra would accept it, and retracted your hand. Removing your black leather gloves and anxiously smoothing out your all-black rider’s outfit.

Confusion was laced on her face, eyebrows creased, “What? What do you mean?”

“You’ve never spoken with such shyness, you’re always bold and honest. Embarrassment is not also a common feature of yours.”

“I’ve never seen someone so smitten with their dragon,” Changing the subject was Rhaenyra’s best ideal option at the moment.

What else would she do? Further, embarrass herself in front of you? Gods, no, she had a reputation to uphold, not to wither away by your mere easygoing presence and gentle words. No matter how much of a cocky temptress you proved to be.

She stood a few feet behind you, weary of the older dragon’s sharp gaze. It was obvious Rhaenyra was embarrassed by her sudden fear of your dragon when she had been nothing more than kind to Silverwing.

After all, Silverwing was the most docile creature in the entirety of King’s Landing, maybe in all of the Seven Kingdoms. It made no sense why Silverwing immediately became annoyed by Rhaenyra’s presence.

Very anxiously, Rhaenyra waited for an answer, her body becoming tense and rigid, hoping you’d go along with it.

“Good news, now you have.” You retorted with a huff, oblivious to the obvious relieved look passing onto Rhaenyra’s face.

“Should you call Silverwing your beautiful girl, it’s a little too endearing for a dragon, is it not?”

The princess slowly stepped forward, losing her temporary fear of Silverwing, approaching you.

“Would you prefer I call you, my beautiful girl, princess?” You teased, maintaining her gaze while giving your dragon one last pet on her snout as she softly shook her head at the gentle touch. The Velaryon girl turned to her lovely dragon with a raised brow, “I think she would rather, Silverwing.”

Much to Rhaenyra’s dismay and slight surprise, the dragon nodded at your statement, glancing at the princess. Silverwing slowly opened her mouth, baring her many rows of teeth, displaying a similar action to a small taunting smile aimed at your dear cousin.

Only an amused chuckle left your mouth at Rhaenyra’s bewilderment. It was not often witnessing Rhaenyra being rendered speechless, only fueling your teasing.

“You’re not disagreeing, my princess. If there’s something you wish to inform me on, now’s the time for it.”

“No! I- I never said that, you implied that!” She argued, stammering over her own words, allowing the embarrassment to soak into her features. Any attempt of feigning indifference was now diminished, your cousin was aware.

Not that she’d like to admit, your simple words or gestures made her flustered. She felt absolutely embarrassed to be this flustered over a measly few phrases and bypassing touches.

Raising an eyebrow in confidence, you continued, “I wouldn’t be against it at all. For once in your life, you have to plead a little for good measure.” You grinned, “Would the Princess be considerate to begging for her own sake?”

In an instant, Rhaenyra blushed, an obvious shade of crimson red decorated her cheeks, and an overwhelming smile crept on her face. She tried to suppress it by straightening her relaxed composure or darting her eyes elsewhere.

No matter how she reacted, it was no use at all. You caught onto her movements quicker than anyone else could. Weirdly enough, Rhaenyra liked how easily you have her figured out every time without even trying.

Rhaenyra removed her gloves, giddy to focus on another task than maintaining your intense concentration. As small as it was, she was internally grateful for the little distraction. It was helping her cheeks to return to their normal skin tone, all porcelain with the distinctive Targaryen facial features.

“We should go, you’re delaying us even further.”

“Whose fault is that in the first place? It’s definitely not mine.”

She scoffed, ignoring your statement, retreating to the carriage. Of course, you were right, but the princess always had to have the last word. You knew it and she knew it. It was one of her many admirable traits you loved about your cousin, her unwillingness to back down from an argument even if she’s in the wrong.

“Welcome back, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Y/N,” Ser Harrold greets, prompted high on his horse, “I trust your rides were pleasant,”

“Try not to look too relieved, ser.”

“I am relieved,” He admitted, “Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoiled. It saves my head from a spike,”

“You mustn’t worry too much about the princess, Ser. She can handle herself.” You replied with a fond smile.

“As can you, Lady Y/N.” He gave you a firm head nod.

Deciding to skip ahead of you, Rhaenyra approached your other friend, Lady Alicent, who was standing by the carriage. You chuckled at her flustered state, catching up to your cousin. Smiling ahead at Alicent, propped on the little carriage steps.

“How were the dragonrides?” Was the first thing to leave Alicent’s mouth with a shy soft smile.

Her eyes squinted in confusion, scanning Rhaenyra’s flushed cheeks, red as ever, making it very hard to ignore. The auburn girl leans closer to the princess, further analyzing the red tint of blush, and whispers to her. “What’s wrong with your face?” Her whisper was low, almost inaudible. So low, that you were unable to hear, despite you straining your ears to intently listen. Alicent was a soft-spoken girl so her voice volume was always at a minimum, having the ultimate advantage of blocking out gossipers.

“I’m fine,” Rhaenyra mumbled, swatting her friend’s hand away, shifting her attention elsewhere. Just avoid making eye contact with you. Everywhere but your piercing gaze that can immediately unravel her true feelings.

Alicent nodded, brushing over her flustered state, deeming it to the weather. The heat from the sun surely brought the redness to her cheeks, nothing else. Alicent had so naively claimed and stuck with it.

“Syrax is growing quickly,” Alicent commented, glancing at the golden dragon, who was intently watching the trio of girls interact. Silverwing has already been guided by the dragonkeepers into the dragon pit. Once you dismount her, Silverwing will disappear, your presence no longer beside her.

“She’ll soon be as large as Caraxes,”

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, the shy timidness in her voice replaced by her regular brazen tone.

“That’s almost large enough to saddle two,” Rhaenyra suggests, implying a future new rider for Syrax; Alicent, if she’s willing to experience the terrifying thrill.

“I believe I’m quite content as a spectator, thank you.” Alicent lifted the bottom of her dress, turned around, and entered the carriage. “For the both of you two, yes Syrax and Silverwing are beautiful, but I will not fly on their backs. I very much prefer to remain on ground level at all times.”

You nudged Rhaenyra’s shoulder, sending her a sly smile, venturing upon the little carriage steps. As expected, the princess kept her intense gaze trained on you, never diverging or faltering, not once.

To her, you were a stunning young woman. You flawlessly completed all the qualifications of marriage into a royal family.

If she were a man, her courtship would already pass, the wedding festivities between you two joyous as ever and the consummation would be passionate and meaningful.

If she were a man, she could do as she pleased, roam around the city whenever. Everything would be at her disposal and would receive little to no consequence. A life without consequences seemed entertaining enough.

But she was not a man. She couldn’t pursue an open romantic relationship with you. She could never court you nor she shouldn’t dream of marrying you. You are both women and couldn’t be thriving wives in a loving marriage.

Your movements halted midway onto the carriage steps, pausing and turning around at the other silver-haired girl.

“Are you to stare at me all day, my princess? If you find me breathtaking, there’s no shame in saying it.” You taunted her, your skirt slightly swaying in the wind.

The familiar flush on her cheeks returned, causing it to be more noticeable, realizing her gaze set upon you was longer than necessary.

Or maybe she was just confused. Did she really like you or were you just a mere distraction? Only until her Uncle Daemon’s sudden secret visits made an expectation.

“What controls your mind with such deep thoughts, princess?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Your eyes fog over when you highly adore the thoughts running wild in your mind. Surely, it is of much importance.”

“How do you know that?”

“Your mimics?”

“Yes exactly,”

“Years of practice, your attitude stayed intact but your body language seems to defer from you. It’s very detectable when your mood changes.”

“Don’t you have nothing better to do with your time and energy?”

“I would if a certain princess should lessen her time spent with me. Now, I call that being observant.”

“That’s not what I call it.”

“What do you call it then?”

“You’ll never know anytime soon, will you?”

“For now. Your needs and inquiries are often fulfilled by me.”

“When you speak in that manner, you speak as if we’re romantically involved.”

“Should they not be? Who knows what will happen in the future?”

Your tone was insinuating, letting on more than Rhaenyra desperately needed to know. Her heart sped up and the blood coursing through her veins began to heat up.

Why must you be relentless when teasing her?

She swears your intentions are purely cruel when regarding her. Yet, she doesn’t demand answers from you, unless she’s truly too inquisitive.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Y/N.” Her statement was meant to be brazenly sharp, but the delivery was timidly startled. The purpose of her intended delivery and actual response didn’t seem to be conceded correctly. She muttered, cursing in High Valryian at her stupidity.

“My tongue has a mind of its own, princess. I hope you haven’t forgotten that.”

“Don’t apologize, I find it quite endearing hearing your thoughts out loud.”

“Perhaps if you like listening to my thoughts, I have something more intriguing to share.”

“Tell me, as your princess I command.”

“Okay, princess.” You huffed, a small grin gracing your face, taking a seat in the carriage. “We’re already late to the King’s council and we both smell of dragonback because someone wanted to go on a joyride.”

She groaned, walking up the small steps and into the carriage, sliding beside Alicent. The Velaryon girl was sitting across from her, merely an arm’s length away.

“And someone else agreed to accompany them on that joyride,” A footman closed the carriage door behind Rhaenyra.

“If I didn’t, you’d force me to go.”

With the horses’ hooves clicking against the dirty ground, the carriage started its journey back to King’s Landing.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Rhaenyra clicked her tongue, tilting her head slightly. You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip, holding Rhaenyra’s gaze. Her gaze shifted to the auburn girl, gulping down any growing desire, ridding her mind of impure thoughts while clearing her throat. “Tell us Alicent, why do you refuse to go on a dragon ride?”

“Alicent is too afraid of heights…it’s a common fear, one that I had developed not long ago,”

“See you understand, Y/N. I don’t see why Rhaenyra can’t do the same,”

“If you’re not up for the challenge, Alicent, just say so.” Rhaenyra smirked, “There’s no use beating around the bush.”

“You’re quite difficult at times, princess, are you aware of that?”

“You never make me forget so I’m obligated to prove it even more,”

“Oh, the Realm’s Delight at her finest moments,” You chuckled, glimpsing at your well-trimmed nails.

“Aren’t all my moments my finest ones, Y/N?”

“Maybe so,”

The carriage ride to The Red Keep was relatively a long one, but a relaxing one at that. While you kept your gaze out the carriage window, unknowingly Rhaenyra had her eyes intently focused on you, studying each facial feature perfectly.

The princess thought she was smart, thinking you were unaware of her lovesick staring but you were highly aware. You fought back a wicked grin, a hand resting underneath your chin as the silence overtook the carriage. It was best to not confess that the princess was admiring you, not so subtly either since Alicent caught on to Rhaenyra’s longing gaze. Her eyes followed Rhaenyra’s own, brows furrowed in confusion as she observed the silent connection.

So much palpable tension wafting in a royal carriage, yet so few words were exchanged.

But there was a certain glint in Rhaenyra’s eyes that exceeded beyond a platonic relationship. It was almost as if she was yearning for your touch, craving to hear those teasing remarks and desperate for even the slightest bit of attention. Safe to say, Rhaenyra, herself, didn’t understand these new feelings sparking within. Of course, this certain feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to the princess whatsoever, but a recurring one.

Unsure of these newfound recurring feelings for the Velaryon girl, she loomed her heart in denial, obtaining a different interest. Her uncle Daemon was another pursuit she often indulged herself in.

Did she harbor romantic affection for her Uncle Daemon? Or did she share them with her beloved cousin, Y/N?

••••

Now inside the castle gates, the trio of girls kept their arms looped together, the Velaryon teenager in the middle, giggling as you sullied the halls.

You rounded up the stairs, venturing closer to Queen Aemma’s birthing chambers. Finally entering the room, filled with busy maids scurrying around, continuing their daily tasks, attending to the Queen.

“Oh, Rhaenyra,” Queen Aemma rejoiced, fanning herself to keep cool. It was a hot strenuous morning, dousing everyone in sweat.“You know I don’t like you to go flying when I’m in this condition.”

“You don’t like me to go flying while you’re in any condition,”

“Your grace,” Alicent acknowledged her friend’s mother with a small smile.

“Good morrow, Lady Y/N and Lady Alicent,”

“Good morrow, Queen Aemma,”

“Believe me, Queen Aemma, I tried to stop her, but she’s stubborn.”

“She joined me, Mother,” Rhaenyra interjects with an eye roll, taking a seat before her exhausted mother.

“Only because she forced me!”

“False accusations. Is there anyone to vouch for your claims?” She asks, sharing a skeptical glance with the other highborn women, none objecting.

A sense of pride overtakes the princess’s facial features, ignoring the pointed gaze sent her way from you.

The Targaryen princess smiles in gaining another victory, “My point stands corrected,”

“Your point stands unfair.”

“Same thing.”

“No, but I’m one of the only people you’ll listen to.”

“That’s not a privilege most people can claim for, especially from a princess. You should be honored, tasked with such a great deal,” Rhaneyra firmly nods.

“Honoured, perhaps. Dealing with you frequently is a bigger burden than anyone else can handle,”

“Oh, so I’m a burden now?” The Princess raises her eyebrows.

“Don’t let it get to your head, my princess.”

You chuckled, venturing closer to the Targaryen women, settling right beside Rhaenyra.

“I’d like to believe that you’re in way over your head,” She turned her head slightly, eyes trained on your small movements.

“Believe what you must, my princess. You’ll still love me regardless.”

“Yes, I always will,” She mumbles to herself, glancing down at her lap before lifting her head.

“Did you sleep, your grace?” You asked the Queen.

“I slept.”

“How long?” Rhaenyra interrogates her mother.

“I don’t need mothering, Rhaenyra.”

“Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you.”

At her daughter’s statement, The Queen remains silent, almost contemplating how to further proceed with the conversation.

She hits her foot on Rhaenyra’s dress, “You will lie in this bed, soon enough Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm.”

“Do you agree, Y/N? That women should be made to squeeze out children and nothing more?”

“Leave me out of this, she’s your mother and I’m not going against your mother. You’re on your own.”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at you, refocusing her gaze onto her mother.

How convenient must you be when siding with her mother instead of her?

“I’d rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.”

The Queen laughs at her daughter’s comment, finding amusement in her words.

“We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.” The older Targaryen woman solemnly informs, both tone and expression filled with sorrow.

For a moment, Rhaenyra wondered about her future as a grown woman. Marriage and children ultimately occur later, mindlessly staring out at the window. She spares a glance your way, dread filling her mind with the mere thought of you being married off to a dense lord and swollen with his heirs. The thought creeping into her mind caused a grimace to appear on her face.

Not only would you forget about her, you’ll be leaving her in these castle walls. The very castle that you both grew up in. Many memories wandered passed these castle corridors, some rare ones too. By Rhaenyra’s remembrance, you lived in the Red Keep longer than Driftmark with your family.

All she wanted was for you, her and Alicent to remain unmarried and childless.

Is that so much to ask for? Apparently in this society, where men ruled the world, unfortunately, it was too much to ask for.

For once, women couldn’t be bound to marriage and be viewed as an incubator for their husbands. Taught to raise their children and care for the household. Knowledge was limited to women and men made sure of it. Only the Septas and highborn women gained the luxury of knowledge and owning a dozen historian books.

You sent your friend a tight-lipped smile, strumming your fingers against the fabric of the chair, watching as her attention redirected back to her mother.

“Now take a bath, you stink of dragon.” The Queen shoots you a teasing grin, “The both of you,”

“Together, your grace?” You jested, raising an eyebrow, moving closer to your cousin. That little gasp coming out of Rhaenyra’s mouth went by unheard. “I’m sure Rhaenyra would love that, wouldn’t you?” Your eyes met hers, enjoying the dilation in her brown eyes expanding to the very core.

“Hmmm….I reckon so. Would you like that, dear daughter?” Queen Aemma joined in on the teasing of her only daughter.

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Yet you’re still dodging the question.” Your tongue clicked against your mouth at her reluctance to admit the plain truth.

The silver-haired princess chuckles, standing up from the small chair, ready to take her leave with Alicent.

“Will I get an answer or not?”

“Leave you guessing, that’s my way of things.”

“You’re a minx, princess.”

“Careful of the words you speak, I could have your tongue cut off for that.”

“You could but you wouldn’t.” You stepped forward, slow but subtle pace.

“Are you so sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You must think highly of yourself.”

“When a princess is righteously spoiling me, what mindset must I inherit?”

“An indifferent one.”

“So if I did that, you’d go overboard with the luxurious gifts, yes?”

“Things would take a different approach, I agree.”

“If anything, this is your doing, princess.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in agreement, relishing your little banter. So ever as the innocent bystander, Alicent smiled at the interaction, and Rhaenyra tilted her head, brown eyes twinkling with fondness.

“I should have you know–“

“Stay behind Y/N, I seek your kind words.” Queen Aemma interrupts her daughter’s statement, knowing that conversation sparked much undeniable tension and Rhaenyra had little restraint.

The silver-haired princess, already standing, complied with her mother’s wishes, approaching the Hightower girl.

“Very well, I’ll talk to Alicent in the meantime,” Your cousin loops her arms around your friend and they leave the chambers.

“So, how the pregnancy’s treating you, your grace?” You seated yourself in the latter chair.

“To put it into short words, not very good. I fear I may not survive this one.”

“Oh well…” You frowned, glancing at her swollen belly. Queen Aemma was frightened, for herself and the developing babe. Your observations are keen and clever, nothing can get past you so there was no sense of hiding it. Evidently, her movements were just as predicted, her tense posture rolling on her emotions, her forehead creased heavily in frustration and her hand softly clutching her swollen belly.

After Rhaenyra, all of the Queen’s pregnancies were taken by baby boys and it was stressful, to say the least. According to Queen Aemma, the birthing pains were devastating but the grieving pains were far more excruciating.

You hoped to never experience the pain that The Queen succumbed to as Rhaneyra secretly made a vow to never produce heirs, for her own safety.

Sadly, none of the babes survived the birth or even endured the 9-month term as required. For a while, Queen Aemma gave up on birthing her husband any more children, for the sake of her health and well-being. Yet, she still attempted again and again, risking her health, bound by her marital duty, to fulfill the King’s need for a son, a male heir. Rhaenyra witnessed the toll it took on her weary mother, exhausted and desperate to provide a son for The Seven Kingdoms but her efforts were all in vain.

Seeing The Queen’s hopeful spirit vanish with each passing baby was too unbearable to watch.

Of course, this only further increased your worries, despite you not trying to show it, but the entire ordeal was beyond any control.

“Doubt is a common thing, but we shouldn’t let it cloud our perspective. We should have hope, maybe the gods might bless us and finally give the King a son, so you can stop suffering from pregnancies. I don’t even want to think, the outcome if we were to lose you, the effect it’d have on Rhaenyra….”

“My dear, you shan’t worry about the possibilities, it’s not your concern,” She places a hand on top of yours, squeezing the soft flesh. “And there’s something else you should know…”

“What is it, your grace? Shall I fetch for a chambermaid?”

“No, no, I’m fine, leave the chambermaids to their duties.”

“Then, what else might you inquire, your grace?”

“You never fall short of telling me the truth,”

“Of course,”

“So tell me the whole of it.”

“Your grace, please don’t mistake me as a deceitful girl. I’m nothing of the sort.” You reassured the older woman.

She nodded, appreciating your kind reassurance to ease any impending doubts lingering in her mind.

“If you harbor romantic feelings for my daughter in any way, you have my full blessing,”

“Excuse me, my queen?”

“Y/N rest assured I hold no ill feelings towards you nor is this an attempt of mockery,”

“You’re giving me a blessing over something that hasn’t come to pass yet?”

“Only time will tell,”

“So you’re hoping that me and Rhaenyra share affection for each other?“

“It may be now or years from now. All I know is that your relationship with Rhaenyra goes way beyond platonic.”

“What you’re implying is far-fetched, your grace.”

Somehow, you refused to believe her words, choosing to keep your hopes at a bare minimum. It was the best default option for you. As a result of either decision that occurs, you will remain neutral and hold no resentment towards Rhaenyra, your friendship overruling unrequited love. You intend to move past the eventual rejection or surprising acceptance, your heart lies in Rhaenyra’s words.

“Is it? I doubt that. I’ve seen the way my daughter looks at you, simply as you hold the moon and stars for her. As if only the two of you exist in this world and your bond is unbreakable. The love you share for one another is unconditional in so many ways.”

“My queen, since when are you so poetic with words? If I didn’t know any better, you sound more invested in this relationship than me.”

“I’m only invested because I know it’s true.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Instead of replying to your statement, she changes the entire conversation.

“Run along, now, Rhaenyra needs her partner in crime, and Alicent shouldn’t be led astray because of the princess.”

“Your grace, are you purposely dodging my question?”

She tutted you, shaking her head, “No I’m not, just delaying it, there’s a difference.”

“You amuse me, my queen.”

“Where do you think Rhaneyra got her humor from? Certainly not from her father.”

“Well wishes on your pregnancy, your grace. I truly hope the labors and recovery goes smoothly.”

“You’re not the only one.” She chuckles, dismissing you with the shoo of her hand. “Stop fretting about me and go find Rhaenyra. God knows, what will happen without you in her presence.”

“Plenty of mischief rooted from boredom, and ultimately more added stress to The King.”

“Go find her before she does.”

“So, I’m the princess’s protector, now?”

“Much more to her.”

“You have no regard for the peering ears or eyes, your grace? The maids or guards might overhear us and start rumors.”

“What will they do? They have no real power or authority to stand on because they all rely on the mere gossip of others, especially a royal family at that.”

“I see where Rhaneyra gets her resilience from, no doubt about it.”

“Hush now, I’m the Queen, they know to keep quiet about certain issues if they wish to remain employed.”

“Are you certain, your grace?” Hesitant crept onto your expression and you couldn’t bother concealing it.

“Yes, now stop being such a worrywart, it’s a horrible look for a Lady. Run along, for real this time.” She gestured her hand out to the chamber’s doors.

A faint smile carved at her lips, sensing the hesitation in your movements. Still, you ignored the slight hesitancy in your mind, getting ready to take your leave.

“I’ll see if I can visit you tomorrow before the tournament, your grace.”

“Until then, I’ll see you.”

At her command, you politely curtsied and left the chambers, searching for the rebellious princess. Besides, the princess couldn’t have gotten too far, especially with Alicent accompanying her, the girls would be easy to find.

••••

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#her fiery fate series #rhaneyra targaryen #emma darcy #rhaenyra targaryen series #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen x black!reader #rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem!reader #y/n velaryon #velaryon!reader

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 11 months ago

Text

Freak Zone: Play Time

Erik Steel x Sugar Kitty x Baby Ashley

Warnings: Smut, Daddy Kink, Voyeurism, GXG, Threesome

Killa Productions

“What’s your name? Or what do you prefer to be called?”

“Just call me Kittie.”

“And you?”

“I’m Ashley.”

“Who would like to go first?”

Kittie raised her hand, waving it enthusiastically like a know-it-all in class. They both share a look before having another giggle fit. That’s all they’ve been doing since arriving on set for day one, smiling and giggling excitedly. Kittie sat up straighter on the studio chair, and cupped her cleavage in her pink bralette, juggling her perky titties for the camera. Kittie crossed one thick thigh over the other, a clear view up her pleated plaid skirt. She wore the cutest pair of kitten ears and her big brown feline eyes were captivating. She was such a baby doll.

“Hello, I go by Sugar Kittie but you can just call me Kittie. I’m a Pisces. Virginia born and raised. I’m 25 yrs old. I’m your favorite lewd cosplayer, twitch affiliate, and anime lover. I like long walks on the beach, strawberry pop tarts, and fucking obviously.”

“Nice to meet you, Kittie. Have you ever worked with Erik Steel before?”

“I have, yes. But it was in passing at an event. He’s always shown me support though. I’m just happy to be here. I’m glad to be a part of the team. I’ve heard so many good things.”

“What’s your favorite asset?”

“My ass,” Kittie smiled, “I love my ass so much.”

“Mind showing us this ass?”

Kittie looked into the camera focused on her and stood up in her clear, platform, 7-inch stilettos. She grabbed the arms of the studio chair and arched her back, the tiny skirt revealing her entire ass swallowing the white g-string. Ashley gawked at her before reaching out to grip one cheek and squeezeing the meaty flesh. Kittie swayed her hips and started creating a round of applause making her ass clap. The camera panned up at her and she looked back over her shoulder, twerking with her hand on her pussy.

“Yessssss,” Ashley hyped up, smacking Kittie’s ass again. She couldn’t help herself. It was so fucking phat and bouncy. The playboy bunny tattoo on her right cheek stood out against her caramel skin.

Kittie stood tall and took her seat, giggling and smiling while adjusting her hair that she wore half up, half down in two ponytails and a fringed bang.

“That’s a lot of ass, Kittie. Erik loves ass. I’m sure he can’t wait to have you.”

Kittie laughs, “Thank you. But you know who has more ass than me,” Kittie pointed to Ashley, “She got the ass AND the titties!”

Ashley blushed and batted her lashes. She smiled showing off her braces while her hands smoothed down her hefty breasts, lifting the tiny T-shirt to reveal a pink polka dotted bra that barely fit her phat titties.

“Mmm, see,” Kittie fondled Ashley’s left breast, “So juicy!”

“Yeah, they’re definitely a handful. Is that your favorite asset, Ashley?”

“That’s not a fair question.” Ashley replied with a teasing smile.

“Okay. How about this…what do men love the most on your body?”

“Pussy!”

Ashley and Kittie spoke in unison.

“Okay, besides pussy, I’d say most of the men I’ve fucked showed my titties and ass the same amount of attention.”

“That’s a fair answer. I mean, both of you ladies are gorgeous. Every bit of you is perfect in my eyes. And obviously, Erik’s. Ashley, tell us a little about yourself.”

“I’m your favorite Texas sweetheart, adorable and slutty. I go by Lil Baby Ashley or Baby Ashley. You can call me whatever name you want honestly…Little Slut…Princess…Baby Cakes…Me and Kittie are basically the same as far as interest but I hate pop tarts. I love dancing, it makes me feel alive.”

“And, have you ever met Erik? I’m sure you’ve seen his work.”

“Can I reveal something?” Ashley raised her hand timidly, “I’ve actually never seen Erik Steel in action until today—I know! I know! It’s wild, but I saw a video of his with Queen Adora? The fetish content creator. They did a kinky skit together and it was…so sexy.”

“Well, isn’t it your lucky day? You get to experience what it’s like to get fucked by Erik Steel.”

“I have chills that’s how excited I am,” Kittie said, “I’ve seen almost all of his videos and movies. I just can’t wait to have some of that dick myself.”

“I’m obsessed now,” Ashley chimed in, “And I don’t know what it is about his presence but…you don’t really get that type of energy anymore with porn. He has this old school flare about him that makes it more stimulating. He’s a natural story teller and he has a way with his words that just…draws you in.”

“He has this thing with his eyes too. Like, he’s hypnotic. And I love that he puts you on! He’s so supportive of us black women in this business.” Kittie added.

“We just can’t wait to get started!” Ashley concluded.

Play Time

Kittie excited the elevator onto the fifth floor of a luxury apartment building wearing an oversized flannel, loose-fitted distressed jeans and white sneakers. Her square-framed glasses hung off of the bridge of her nose as she lugged a heavy suitcase filled with her last bit of items. Kittie moved into the apartment with her friend and classmate, Ashley. Ashley and Kittie attend the same college and they are both studying computer science.

Kittie wasn't paying attention when she almost collided with her neighbor, Erik, while he was in workout gear, heading to the apartment gym. Kittie jumped back and dropped her bag.

"I'm so sorry!" She apologized.

"It's okay," Erik grabbed her bag from the floor, sitting it upright, "No worries."

Kittie still hadn't recovered from last night. Seeing him again sparked new feelings. Feelings that she couldn't control now thanks to him.

"Thank you."

She couldn't look him directly in the eye.

"No problem, love. You have a good day, Miss Kittie."

Erik smiled at her and walked away, leaving her breathless. Kittie gathered herslef and continued on her way. When she got to her apartment, She was about to open the door with her keys until Ashley opened the apartment door for her.

"Hey sis! I saw you coming on the camera."

She stood back, Kittie’s eyes scanning Ashley up and down, admiring the oversized sailor moon hoodie she wore like a dress. Ashley shut the door behind Kittie.

"You okay?" Ashley asked.

What Ashley doesn’t know is that Kittie was having a late-night gym session in the apartment complex the other evening and she caught a glimpse of Mr. Erik walking out of the sauna naked. He was dripping with sweat and his skin looked smooth and soft. Kittie was too busy staring that she hadn’t realized he noticed her looking...

“Woah—I didn’t know anybody would be here this late.”

He quickly covers his front with a bunched up towel.

“I’m Kittie.” She spoke weakly and in sort of a daze.

Erik quirked a brow and walked up to Kittie, holding out his much larger hand, “Erik. I haven’t seen you around here before. Did you just move in?”

Kittie focused her eyes on his face, taking in his brown eyes that reminded her of cognac and his plump lips were moist and soft-looking. Her eyes roamed his hair and she loved the way his locs sat over his forehead.

“Did you hear me?”

Kittie blinked to focus, “I–I’m sorry…what did you say?”

Slowly, a half-dimpled smirk teased her eyes and with his slightly partied lips she could see a glint of gold slugs.

“Did you just move in?” He repeats, but slower this time around.

“Yes. Me and a friend from college.”

He smelled rugged, woodsy, and strong. She was falling apart.

Erik tears his eyes away from Kittie to look down at his current appearance. He’s basically naked in front of her and he just met her.

“I think I better get going,” Erik starts backing away, “It was nice meeting you, Kittie, I’ll see you around sometime.”

Erik quickly turned once he entered the mens locker room to get dressed. With him gone, Kittie exhaled, pressing a hand over her heart. It didn’t make sense how fine that man was. She couldn’t wait to tell Ashley.

The entire apartment was decorated to fit Ashley and Kittie’s interests. Lots of pink & lots of cutesy decor.

“… He’s so fucking sexy, Ash,” kitty flops down on their white sofa, “I think I’ve seen him around Campus before. Isn’t he that Physics professor?”

Ashley climbed onto the sofa next to Kittie.

“You know I wouldn’t know anything about that. I wonder if we can find a faculty photo of him.” Ashley suggested.

“Good idea,” Kittie retrieved her lap top from her bag, “Let’s see if we can find him.”

“So,” Ashley twirled one of the drawstrings on her hoodie, “You said he was…naked?”

“Yes. Body glistening, dick nice and hard…”

“Wish I could have seen that,” Ashley said.

“It took all of my strength not to get down on my knees and worship that dick with my mouth.”

“I bet…do you think he’s single?” Ashley questioned.

“Found him!”

Ashley scooted closer to Kittie to see for herself. She recognized him. He wore glasses in the picture with his locs braided back. He teaches physics and intro to engineering. He has a doctorate in engineering. Ashley couldn’t agree more with Kittie. Erik is damn fine. She wanted to sink her claws into that. Ashley glanced at Kittie and smiled with a mouthful of braces, but the wheels in her head were turning. How was she going to get a piece of the professor without Kittie knowing about it?

“He’s fucking hot.” Ashley said.

“I knowww, and I want him!” Kittie replied with a whiny voice.

“Lucky you got to see him naked.”

Kittie shut her laptop.

“I think he lives right across the hall from us.” Kittie mentioned.

Ashley perked up. Right across the hall? She’d definitely have a shot at running into him.

“Anyways, let me finish unpacking. I have a paper to finish.”

Kittie stood up from the couch and grabbed her things, heading to her room. Ashley had some things to do herself. Studying was one of them. But what she’d rather be studying is Erik’s dick.

“Same! Pizza for dinner?” Ashley asked.

“Sure! We can order in.” Kittie responded.

“This was my sixth F grade of the night, damn.”

Professor Erik Steel put a big fat F on another physics exercise and tossed the paper on top of a growing messy pile at his desk. He rubbed his temples with his fingers before removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyelids drooped, heavy with weariness.

Erik has been overworked and over stressed since the start of the new semester. It’s as if his students came back from winter break with no brain. Sure, physics can be understandably challenging, but Erik took the necessary steps to make sure they understood the material. Practice exercises were given in abundance. His office hours were open before and after class. He took his time to explain equations and everything at its most fundamental level. He broke it down like a high school teacher time and time again and still, they just can’t grasp it.

Before he could power off his laptop and call it a night, Erik heard a knock on his apartment door. Puzzled, Erik checked his rolex for the time. It was after 9 PM. No one he could think of off the top of his head would be knocking on his door at this time of evening unannounced. Erik placed his glasses over his eyes and stood up from his desk. He walked out into the living room and stood before his door.

Erik peered through his peephole and noticed a young woman with a tray of brownies. Erik furrowed his brows and slowly began unlocking his door. He opened it slightly, his face appearing between the crack of the door. She was wearing a baby pink slip dress with a matching robe. A Hello Kitty headband had her long, curly brown extensions pushed back from her forehead. She had an adorable round face and big brown eyes with long lashes.

She smiled at Erik with a mouth full of hardware and waved at him excitedly. Erik finally opened the door fully, and when he stood within his doorway, she was at least 5’3 Fun sized just like the girl he’d ran into the other evening at the gym. He wondered how she was doing.

“Hello.” Erik greeted the girl.

“Hi! I’m Ashley, your new neighbor,” she held out her hand with nails painted white, “Nice to meet you finally! I live across the hall.”

Erik’s eyes followed her finger to the door directly across from him.

“I’m Erik. You wouldn’t happen to be Kittie’s neighbor, are you?” Erik questioned.

Ashley smirked, showing off her dimples.

“I am! We’re friends from school. I made some brownies and…well…we won’t eat them all so I figured you might like some.”

She held up a round pink and white striped platter filled with brownies and wrapped in saran wrap. Erik noticed little colorful sprinkles on them and smirked.

“Cosmic brownies from scratch?”

Ashley giggles, “Yes. They used to be my favorite growing up.”

Erik accepted the brownies and he could smell the chocolatey goodness. The platter was still warm too. He had a weakness for fresh baked goods. Ashley bat her lashes at him. She was gorgeous. Definitely more sex appeal than Kittie. He expected her to turn and leave but she remained standing there, staring at him longingly.

“You should try one. I made it with love.”

Erik unraveled the Saran Wrap and snatched a soft brownie off the top. His mouth began to water the more he brought that brownie to his lips. He could see little melted chocolate chips. Erik opened his mouth and his teeth sank into the brownie. Instantly, he was rewarded with the richest, sweetest dessert.

“Mmmmm,” Erik shut his eyes as he chewed, “This is amazing.”

Ashley watched him finish the brownie. Hers memorized the way his lips moved, the shape of his tongue, and his teeth. She could have sworn that she saw a hint of gold in his mouth…

“Thank you. I plan to eat all of these.” Erik said.

“You’re welcome.”

Ashley smiled at Erik and still, she just stood there, her eyes moving up and down his body.

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” Erik asked with a single elevated brow.

“Uhm…I just wanted to say that if you need anything…more brownies…sugar…just knock on our door. We don’t bite.”

Her voice was as sweet as those brownies.

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night, Ashley. And tell Kittie I said hello.”

Ashley beamed, “Will do! Good night, Erik.”

Ashley gave him a final wave before walking away with a purposeful switch in her hips. She definitely had a lot of ass. Erik tilted his head to look at that beautiful backside before she disappeared behind her door.

He made his way back inside and shut and locked his door. Erik pressed his back against it and his eyes descended to his crotch. His dick was rock hard and displaying a hefty print. He wondered if Ashley noticed. Erik shook his head and made his way back to his office. Once there, he picked up his empty wine glass to refill it. A soft bing sounded from his laptop and Erik went to check it. It was an email.

He opened the attachment and read the words in pink letters.

Open if you dare.

Sitting the tray of brownies down and his wine glass, Erik opened that email. It seemed to cause a disruption on his computer. The screen began to glitch out of control like those old antenna televisions. Erik sat down at his desk, leaning in and pressing various keys. He was ready to panic until he pressed the enter key and what emerged before his eyes peeked his interest so fast he’d forgotten about the hack.

The three pink dots blinked one by one. Erik recognized that face straight away. It was Kittie. He stared at his screen open-mouthed. The sight of her dressed like such a slut was nothing compared to how she looked when they ran into each other in the gym. So, her and Ashley are pretty much the same in terms of pretty little sluts go. She was just as built. Two for the price of one.

Erik entered, his anticipation getting the best of him. A screen popped up with Kittie’s face and her holding a pink stuffed animal.

She looked delicious. Words started going across the screen and Erik’s cognac eyes moved back and forth, reading the text.

I’m Kittie. And I’m looking for a daddy to fuck me like I deserve. In order to get your reward in the end, you have to prove to me that you deserve to slut me out. I’m going to give you three challenges to complete. The further you go, the harder they become. Are you ready to begin your first challenge, professor?

Erik took a second to think. If he completed these challenges, he would get a chance to fuck his cute neighbor. Kittie has been on his mind all night. He found himself fisting his dick beneath the shower in the men’s locker room last night. She looked so innocent with her glasses and her nervous expression. He couldn’t help that his dick is thick and long. She was staring at his stick like she never saw a dick in her life. Now, he knew that she’s a freaky bitch. He wanted her ass even more.

Erik accepted the first challenge and a tiny white envelope popped up on his screen.

Open to see your first challenge:

Erik clicked on the envelope and he was sent another photo of Kittie that had him groaning into his closed fist. His dick was pressing against the seam of his slacks.

This is me right now. All alone. In need of a daddy. I haven’t had dick in so long. Tell me, what would you do to me if you were here right now?

So, she wanted him to play into a fantasy. This was a piece of cake. Erik decided to get himself more comfortable before starting. He removed his white dress shirt, tie, and black slacks. Sitting in just his grey briefs and black dress socks, Erik cracked his knuckles and started typing.

As soon as I open that door, I would take in the sight of you first. My eyes would roam up and down your frame, drinking you in and biting my lip. I’d tell you how sexy you look for daddy and ask you if this is all for me.

Erik waited with a racing heart. Her reply popped up within a minute.

Yes, daddy, it’s all for you. I picked it out just for you. I’m so happy that you love it. Let me turn around so you can see how it looks from the back…

She sent another attachment and Erik wasted no time opening it.

“Fuckkkkk.”

She sent him a video this time and that ass looked as soft as dough and it moved like jello. Erik was speechless and rock hard. He grabbed his dick through his briefs and squeezed the heft of it. His balls were already full of cum. He wanted to beat his stick so bad.

Damn, baby girl, it looks even better from the back. Mmmm…this all for me? You’re so sweet…I can’t wait to undress you. Take my time and remove every piece before putting my whole face in it.

Why wait? Take it all off of me now…I can’t wait anymore, daddy. My pussy is so wet…please hurry…

Stay just like that…good girl…mmm, look at that pretty pussy…can daddy keep these little panties? I can’t wait to bury my face in them.

Yes, I want you to keep them so you can think about me. The more you use them, the better you’ll fuck me. My sweet scent will keep that dick nice and hard for me when you get home. You’ll fuck me better…

Erik smirked. Biting his bottom lip, he typed a response.

And daddy won’t stroke his dick because I want you to get the biggest cum load in your mouth when I get home. Every single day I expect you to be ready and on your knees, that mouth open and that tongue out. If I sniff your panties all fucking day…you’ll get rewarded with eight hours of nut. I expect you to swallow it all.

I’ll swallow it, but I hope you’ll cover me all over with that tasty nut. And what if I want it in my pussy? Don’t I deserve it in my pretty little pussy, daddy? I’ve been such a good girl for you. Haven’t touched my kitty all day. No matter how wet I was…

Can I see that dick?

Erik stood up at his desk and slipped his briefs down. He took his seat again and in one hand he gripped his girth firm at the base, swinging it up and down. One look at his fat dick and it was leaking pre-cum.

Daddy is so hard, baby girl. It’s throbbing out of control. Seeing you like this with that wet pussy out got me ready to explode. I should punish you for making daddy stay hard like this all day. I was trapped in my office all day with a hard dick, baby. Fuck…

Beat that dick for me, but don’t cum.

With a twist of his wrist, Erik strokes his dick. Up and down, he slowly pumped his dick into his fist. As his fist went back up, he twisted his hand over his tip. Erik’s eyes became slits and his head went back. Bringing his head forward again, glasses fogging up because of his deep breaths, he watched his movements. His toned hips are in sync with his hand.

Just like that. Think about how my pussy will feel on that tongue.

Erik groaned. That pussy print was fat in her panties. He loved fat pussy. More for him to put in his mouth. He could feel that tingling in his balls. He could feel the veins in his throbbing dick against the palm of his hand. It was warning him that it was time to bust a load.

STOP.

Erik let go of his dick, but it was still pointed to the ceiling like a traffic cone.

I can see you, professor.

Erik’s eyes focused on the tiny camera. How was she able to do this? It doesn’t matter. He wanted her. NEEDED HER.

You did good, professor. You can’t finish, but it’s okay. The reward will be amazing. Until tomorrow. Xoxo

Kittie.

Erik heard a soft knock on his door. He stood up and quickly slipped on his briefs, grunting from how his dick felt straining against the fabric. As he walked, his dick poked out of the opening in the crotch area. He shook his head before opening his door, he looked around and his eyes went down to find a small pink box wrapped in a white satin ribbon.

Erik grabbed the box quickly and after shutting his door he opened it where he stood. The ribbon slipped from his fingers and fell onto his dick. He was that stiff. He opened the box and his jaw tightened. Gently, his thick fingers grasped the edge of a pair of pink and white lace panties with little white bows on them. The same panties Kittie had on in that picture.

The box dropped to the floor—forgotten. Erik pressed his sturdy back against the door and brought her panties to his face. He inhaled, his eyes rolling shut. She smelled amazing. His dick bobbed up and down. It was a shame he couldn’t cum. He would play along for now, but as soon as he got his hands on her…

Game over.

Earlier:

Ashley accepted the box of pepperoni, stuff-crust pizza and tipped the delivery guy. Shutting the door, Ashley walked with her feet cozy in a pair of pink bunny slippers towards the dining room. There, Kittie was sitting in a pair of pink shorts with a white baby tee. Ashley sat the box down in the center of the table and Kittie slid her a paper plate with a floral pattern on it. The girls tucked into their food with smiles and happy bellies.

“I was thinking about baking brownies later. Do you think Erik would want some?”

Kittie’s brown feline eyes looked up at Ashley from her plate. She gave her a skeptical look and Ashley simply looked at her with a blink of her eyes.

“Your special brownies, Ash?” Kittie asked.

“Mhm.”

“Ash…I know exactly what you’re trying to do. I’m not stupid.”

Ashley rolled her eyes.

“Okay, FINE. I want to see what’s good with Erik too.”

Kittie laughed.

“I should have known! You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Kittie gave Ashley a teasing look.

“You shouldn’t have told me! Ugh!”

“Well, I saw him first,” Kittie said with a mischievous grin, “I bet you he’s thinking about me right now.”

“I can change that,” Ashley smiles, “When I go over to give him my brownies, he’ll want me.”

“So, you want to compete with me?” Kittie asked.

“No need, I’ll win!” Ashley spoke with confidence.

“How about we put our tech skills to the test. We each devise a game for the professor to play and whoever fails, gets to fuck him.”

“Hmm,” Ashley looked heavenward, “So, if I win, I get to have that dick all to myself?”

“Yes,” Kittie grabbed another slice of pizza, “I can make use of that personal project I’ve been working on that I told you about. It would be perfect.”

“Deal. May the best win.”

————

Professor Erik Steel erased his white board filled with acceleration formulas. All of his students were gone and before class they had a lengthy, important conversation about passing his class. Future mathematicians, engineers, and architects were amongst him. They had to do better. Erik grabbed his navy blue blazer that matched his navy blue slacks from the back of his chair. Briefcase in hand, He turned off the lights in his classroom and shut the door.

His office was down the hall. It was a small space but it did give him some privacy. He said hello to other professors as he walked, and the closer he got, the more he noticed that his office door had been opened. Erik took long strides towards the door and pushed it open with his hand. There was no one there, but his desktop computer was booted up. Erik shut his office door and walked around the desk.

His eyes noticed the same glitch that happened to his laptop the other night. He quickly closed the blinds to his office door and walked back over to his desk. Taking a seat, Erik adjusted his tie and swallowed spit. This must be challenge number two. How risky to challenge him while he’s at work. He had another class within an hour.

Erik pressed enter and the picture this time before his eyes shocked him. He wasn’t expecting this turn of events.

Erik didn’t hesitate. So, Ashley wanted to play too? Erik clicked on the little white envelope and his eyes bore into his screen.

Damn. Damn. Damn. He loved the little dress covered in strawberries. And her hair? She switched it up.

You can call me Baby Ashley. I’m a slut for you, professor. Do you like my little outfit? I wore it to school today. You’ve been on my mind ever since I gave you those brownies. I have a little game for us to play today. Are you ready?!

Erik pressed enter at the same time a knock came to his office door.

Let me in.

Erik cleared his throat before sitting up in his chair.

“It’s open.” He said.

The door handle turned and it opened to reveal Ashley. She had books in her hand and a bright smile on her face.

“Hi, professor.”

“Ashley,” Erik dipped his head in greeting, “what can I do for you, baby girl?”

Ashley walked over to him with a teasing lick of her lips. The camera crew behind her had a view of hee ass peeking out from beneath her little dress. She sat at the edge of his desk, sitting her books down behind her. She leaned into Erik and grabbed him by the tie. He bit down on his lip and stared her directly in the eyes.

“I have a little gift for you,” Ashley picked up a pink box with a white satin ribbon from on top of her books, “this is for you, professor.”

She handed Erik the box and stood up, walking around to the front of his desk. Erik opened the box to find a little remote. His eyes connected with Ashley.

“That remote will control the vibrator in my panties. If you can make me cum in three minutes, I’ll let you fuck me…right here in your office, professor.”

“Just like that, huh?” Erik twirled the controller in his hand, “Aight…”

He stood up and walked over to Ashley. She froze when his body pressed against hers. The height difference between them turned her on something vicious. His eyes looked from her, down to the vibrator in his hand. He pressed the button and a low rumble could be heard between them. Ashley swayed where she stood. Her mouth opened and her eyebrows creased.

She grabbed onto Erik for balance. Erik watched her with a penetrating gaze. She gasped when he increased the speed of the vibrations. Her legs began to shake out of control and she moaned loudly. Anybody could hear her. Anybody could walk up to that door and hear her cries of ecstasy.

“Shhh, you can’t make too much noise, baby,” Erik whispered to her, “I know that pussy feels good, but you have to be a good girl and stay as silent as you can. You don’t want daddy to get in trouble, do you?”

“Unh….” Ashley dragged her nails down Erik’s chest, “No, daddy.”

“If you continue to be a good girl, then we can have fun like this in my office anytime,” Erik grabbed a fist full of her hair to force her to look up at him, “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, professor,” Ashley looked at his lips.

“Baby Ashley…you ain’t never see how I get down, huh? It’s okay if you’re late to the party…you won’t be disappointed.”

A minute had gone by. Erik increased the speed again and Ashley buried her face against his chest. Her slit was being tortured by that vibrator. She could feel herself creaming into her panties.

“You’re such a slut, Ashley. How do you think Kittie would feel if she found out her roommate wanted this dick too?”

Ashley nibbled on her lip. She couldn’t open her mouth to speak. Two minutes had gone by and it was all or nothing. Erik changed things up and wrapped his hand around her neck. She gasped, her glossy eyes staring up at him.

“You better cum, Ashley, if you want this dick, you better cum. The only loser here is you. Because guess what? You won’t get to have this dick. You won’t get to suck it…to fuck–it.”

Oooo, shit,” her legs shook, “I’m gonna cu—”

Ashley writhed against him.

“That’s it, cum for daddy…cum for daddy, bitch.”

Erik turned off that vibrator and picked Ashley up. He put her on her back on a sofa in his office and reached beneath her dress to take off her panties. The camera focused on Ashley’s face and she looked directly into the screen, licking her lips. His mouth was on her neck and his fingers ripped her panties from her body.

The pieces of fabric fell to the floor. Erik gripped her by the jaw, causing her head to lift from the couch. His teeth latched onto her jaw and he nibbled on her flesh.

“Professor,” Ashley tried to get his attention, “you didn’t make me cum in three minutes…”

Erik looked at her like she was out of her mind.

“Fuck you mean?” He questioned.

Ashley sat up, afraid to look him in the eye. Instead, her eyes dropped down to his crotch.

“My phone had gone off. You went three seconds over…”

Erik glared at her. It did nothing but turn Ashley on. He cocked his head to the side before leaning over Ashley on the couch. His eyes bore into hers intently.

“You come into my office, and play games with me. Nah…”

His voice was deep and menacing.

“I think you owe me, baby girl. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ashley was startled when she felt Erik’s thick fingers push past her opening. He stroked her spot with the pads of his fingers with one hand while his other hand unfastened his pants. Ashley whimpered deep in her throat the more Erik’s fingers slid in and out of her pussy.

“Open your legs, I wanna see that pretty pussy.”

She spread as wide as she could. Erik was blessed with a smooth pussy covered in a creamy mess.

“Imagine how good my dick would have felt deep in this puss, baby.”

His dick was finally freed from its restrictions and Ashley’s mouth went agape. She was damn near cross-eyed looking at it.

“This the dick you ain’t getting since you wanna worry about three fucking seconds. Now, you get to watch daddy bust a fat nut all over you. Too bad…”

His thumb was on her clit now, flicking it up and down. Her thighs shook out of control and Erik chuckled darkly at that.

“Just think, if it was my dick instead of my fingers. I’d have you leaking all over my shit in a minute.”

“Mmmm, Erik,” Ashley cried, “Please, that dick is so fucking big, “I want it.”

“I thought this was your game? I thought you were in charge? Hmm, I guess not.”

Erik laughed at her. He tapped her mouth with his dick. Ashley opened her mouth and flicked her tongue on his fat tip.

“Look at that tongue. I love those braces.”

His fingers were deep. Ashley’s legs trembled when she felt herself squirt. Erik slapped her clit, more of her juices staining his shirt.

“You nasty, nasty bitch. Mmm,” Erik licked his fingers, “A tasty bitch too…”

He used the mess on his fingers to continue to pump his dick. Soon, he remembered Kittie’s words. Erik let go of his painfully hard dick and it swayed in Ashley’s face. He growled deep within his chest. He forgot Kittie’s rules. He wasn’t supposed to cum.

“Daddy?” Ashley gripped his dick, “Why did you stop, daddy? I was ready to suck it.”

“Fuck,” Erik watched Ashley stroke him.

She used both of her hands in a grinding motion. His nuts were so tight. Her soft hands felt like butter.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna cum?”

She knew that if he did, Kittie would lose. Something told him to stay strong. To hold that nut in as long as he could for Kittie. Ashley was so hard to resist. She was right there. Pussy out, titties tempting him to pull down the front of her dress and suck. Mouth with lips so juicy the perfect fit for his big dick. Ugh.

“I do, baby, but I can’t. I gotta hold off.”

Ashley looked annoyed.

“You could have all of this to yourself…”

She sat up and Erik fixed himself. He was a mess. How was he going to go to his next class like this? Ashley fixed her dress and fluffed her hair. She giggled at Erik trying to fix his crotch.

“Too bad you lost this round. Maybe the next one you’ll do better.”

Ashley grabbed her things, face still covered in cum. Erik gave her some tissue and she cleaned up as best as she could. She waved goodbye to Erik before leaving him standing there with a hard dick.

Open to see your next challenge…

Erik was still recovering from the earlier events. He’d noticed a difference between Ashley and Kittie’s games. Kittie was better at playing than Ashley. Baby Ashley wanted that dick quick fast. He almost gave in, but the anticipation of following Kittie’s rules had him holding off on yet another orgasm. His nuts were damn near dragging because they were filled with cum. The edging was killing him.

Erik wondered what she had in store next. He was currently fresh out of the shower, a fluffy black towel hanging low from his hips. He opened the next challenge.

Daddy…am I your baby?

Erik typed a reply.

Yes. Always.

When will daddy be home? I’m waiting with my mouth open just like you wanted.

Good girl. I’m home now. I could use that wet mouth. It was so hard for daddy to be good today. I have so much to give you.

Can I come over?

Fuck yes. Bring that ass here baby girl 😩

Erik didn’t bother getting dressed. What was the point? He was about to get his dick sucked all on anyway. He was at his door before Kittie could even knock. He flung the door open and found her wearing something totally different from the picture she sent. She has on a pair of black shorts with a black crop top and a pair of glasses

She walked inside and looked around. Erik watched her take in her surroundings before her eyes fell on him again.

“Had to take a quick shower?” Kittie asked.

“I was getting myself ready for bed before you came over, but since you’re here, why don’t you get down on your knees for me.” Erik commanded.

“Not so fast, daddy,” Kittie put her hands behind her back, “You have to do what I say first before you get to feel my wet, warmth mouth.”

Erik clenched his jaw with impatience but tilted his head in acceptance. He was tired of this goddamn game. He wanted to put it in her stomach.

“I want you to talk to me nasty, Erik. The nastier you talk to me, the sluttier I am for you.”

He narrowed his eyes at Kittie, watching her like a hawk when she started dragging a single finger down his chest, looking him in the eyes with a slow, sensual blink.

Erik took that finger into his grasp, Kittie’s lips parting a fraction. Erik; eyes still on her, put Kittie’s finger in his mouth and started sucking. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation. He paused his sucking to speak.

“You should have seen your roommate earlier,” Erik looked at her saliva-covered finger, “She was hungry for this dick. What did you tell her, huh? That I had the biggest dick you’d ever seen?”

Kittie drew her lower lip into her mouth. Her chest rose up and down with deep breaths.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“She almost made me cum, baby girl. But I remembered that Miss Kittie told me not to cum…”

Erik licked her finger while his eyes bore into hers so deeply it was as if he could see her soul. Kittie was losing her dominance in this game. That same hand, Erik lowered it to his crotch. He placed Kittie’s open palm on there and her lip quivered.

“Mmm…so big, right? Daddy’s dick is so big, princess?”

“Yes…daddy’s dick…is so…big.” Kittie struggled to say.

“Mhm,” Erik nods his head before leaning into her face. He looked down on her with a tilt of his head, sizing her up with his eyes, “after I ran into you at the gym, I couldn’t help myself…I beat my dick in the shower thinkin’ ‘bout you, girl.”

Kittie’s lips were centimeters away from Erik’s. He had her ass in the most lethal chokehold.

“I would have never guessed that you would be this much of a nasty little slut…”

He brought his lips around to her ear and exhaled a warm, gentle breath that sent shivers down her spine.

“And I plan to give you exactly what you want. This little game of yours is cute…but when I win…I’m gonna fuck you so fuckin’ good you won’t ever play another game wit’ me. When daddy wants that pussy…you give it up…”

Kittie closed her eyes when his tongue slithered up her ear.

“When I want that mouth…you suck this dick with no questions…understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” Kittie replied.

“Good fucking girl…”

She was rubbing her hand up and down his dick through the towel. Kittie moved to her knees and unraveled the towel. His dick sprung free and slapped her in the cheek. She used her mouth to catch it and made sure to look up at him.

Meanwhile, the cameras from the production crew were angled over Erik’s shoulder and from Sugar Kittie’s side. She spit on his dick, one hand jerking it, before her lips found his tip and she went to work. Kittie bobbed her head, guck guck guck so loud and disrespectful. Erik’s face looked angry—brows drawn together, bottom lip between his teeth.

“Dasssit, suck that mothafucka,” Erik grabbed her weave into a ponytail, “I got miss Sugar Kittie’s mouth to play with today.”

She looked up at him with teary eyes and a gag in the back of her throat. Kittie removed her mouth and a stream of spit dripped down her neck. Her in those sexy glasses made the moment even better.

“Good…uh-huh…gooood,” He pushed her head down to where her nose was touching his clipped pubic hair, “unhhhhhhshittt….” Erik bobbed her head over his dick, “stay on that shit, Kittie, before you make me mad.”

“Ack! Shit!” She pushed off of him to catch her breath.

Erik tutted at her like she was a bad child.

“I know where to put you,” he pulled her up by her arm, “back against the wall, Kittie.”

She put her back against the wall next to his apartment door and got down on her knees.

“Good Kittie….”

Erik approached her, swinging his dick from side to side, the cameras getting a good shot. Kitty grabbed his shaft but Erik gripped her wrists and put her arms up against the walls. With both hands in his grasp, he made Kittie open wide and he proceeded to fuck her throat.

“Here, kittie, Kittie…”

Erik withdrew his hips and his dick pressed against her lips.

“And daddy can’t cum, hmm?”

She had tears rolling down her face. He was back down her throat again. The way he looked down at her from above was dangerous. She moved that neck as best as she could in that position. Erik’s mouth opened and his eyes fluttered shut. He grunted when she deep-throated him.

Erik pulled his dick from her mouth again, “Get these nuts too, baby, can’t forget that…”

She put her face in it. Sloppy and raunchy. Erik laughed, grinding his hips against her face.

“Aight, back on this dick,” He let go of her wrists and one hand gripped her chin tight while the other fisted her hair, “That’s a good girl, give daddy that throat.”

Sugar Kittie was holding her weight. She knew he was going to give her a run for her money. She’d seen him in action. Erik Steel didn’t play.

“Stayyyy,” he threw his head back and moaned, “your mouth is so warm. You look so pretty sucking this big dick, baby…fuuuck….shit—”

Erik pulled her mouth off with a yank of her hair. He was about to bust. He was so close. Spit dripped from his dick to the floor. Kittie tried to catch her breath. She smiled up at Erik while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Erik picked her up and stuck his tongue down her throat. They kissed sloppily for a while, Erik slapping her on the ass.

“You almost made me cum,” He smirked against her mouth, “Did daddy win this challenge?”

“Yes,” Kittie said with a nod of her head, “just one more and this one is the best.”

“It better be.” Erik said.

Ashley was seething. She knew that Kittie had gone to see Erik last night. There’s no telling what they both did. She was close to having that dick deep inside of her, but he didn’t give in because of Kittie. She had to get him to herself. It was time for round two.

It was the next afternoon, at school, when Ashley decided to strike again. From her laptop in the library, she could see Professor Steel enter with his briefcase. He wore a white button-down shirt and a pair of khakis. His clothes stretched over his body perfectly. He found a back table—out of sight—so he could focus on his work.

Ashley checked the time on her laptop. Smirking, she sent the professor his second game. This one involved her being a passenger princess. She was excited. Ashley waited on the other side of the book stacks, sneakily watching him as he opened his next challenge. Erik sat up straighter in his chair and looked around the nearly empty library. He didn’t spot her.

Good afternoon, professor! I’ve missed you since our last meeting in your office 😘 looks like you’re finished for the day. Do you like my outfit? I had all eyes on me today at school. The only one I wanted to impress was you. I don’t have a ride home today, I’m currently without a car until it gets fixed. Do you mind giving me a ride back to the apartment? Please? 🥺

I promise it will be worth it.

Ashley could see Erik reaching down between his legs to grab his dick through his pants. He started typing a response that Ashley already knew would be the answer.

Of course I like your sexy little outfit. Sure, I can give you a ride home, baby girl. Anything for you.

Ashley packed her things and made her way towards him. Erik looked up from his laptop when he noticed her coming from behind one of the many book shelves. She was wearing that same outfit from the picture. Ashley waved to him and Erik stood, quickly putting his things away.

“Ready?” He asked her, his eyes roaming all over her body.

“Yes. Thank you for being so nice, professor.”

They walked out of the library side by side. A camera was placed on the dashboard to film them while Erik was driving. They both walked towards the faculty portion of the parking lot and up to Erik’s red Ferrari SF90. He opened the door for Ashley after taking her school bag to put in the back. After he climbed inside, he shut his door and started the car.

Looking over at her, she placed one hand in his lap, rubbing him close to his dick. Erik pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Ashley used that same hand to rest over his crotch. Erik made his dick jump against her hand.

“I felt that, professor. Are you trying to tell me something?” Ashley questioned with a sweet voice.

Erik looked at her before focusing back on the road.

“What exactly does this second game require of me, Ashley?”

Ashley giggled, “Nothing you can’t handle I’m sure. I’ll be your passenger princess while you drive. I’ll take care of this dick with my mouth, and you have to get us home without cumming.”

He was growing exhausted of holding off his nut.

“You and Kittie love to play games. I’m tired of this shit.” Erik said with a deep, threatening voice.

“You love our games, Professor, you don’t have to lie.”

Ashley used both hands now to undo his pants. The sound of his zipper was loud. Erik’s head went back against his headrest and he switched to driving one-handed. Ashley unfastened her seatbelt and arched over into his lap. Her little pink skirt lifted and he could see her pink thong. Erik reached over to pop her on the ass hard.

“Mmmm, look at all this ass, baby, so much fucking ass.”

He lifted her skirt up some more. Meanwhile, Ashley was too busy reaching past his briefs to grab his dick. She wrapped her fingers around his girth and whipped him out. Opening wide, careful not to snag him with her braces, Ashley wrapped her lips around his tip while one of her hands cuffed his sack to keep him upright.

“Shit, fuck,” Erik was fighting the urge to watch her suck him off, “That wet ass mouth. Spit on that shit, Brace-face.”

Ashley giggled at his nickname. She spit on his tip and it cascaded down his shaft. Erik drew his lip from between his teeth, lip poked out, showing off his gold slugs. He gripped the stirring wheel tighter and finally he came to a red light.

“You had to take it up a notch, huh? Look at that tongue work,” Erik grabbed his phone quickly from his pocket and started recording Baby Ashley, “Oooohhhh shit.”

She looked up into the camera with her big, brown eyes. Erik made sure to scan her body with his phone, getting everything into view. He multitasked by focusing his eyes straight into the camera on the dashboard. The light turned green and he wasn’t too far away from the apartment.

“Kittie had me close to nutting down her throat last night. Think you can make daddy do the same?”

Erik didn’t wait for a response. He gripped her hair and forced her head down. His foot pressed down on the accelerator when she did this thing with her jaws like she was squeezing his dick.

They finally arrived the apartment. Erik parked his car half-hazardously and dropped his eyes down at Ashley.

“Get that dick down your fucking throat, Ashley,” Erik palmed the back of her head, “there you go, dasssitt,” he lifted his hips from the seat to feed her more dick, “show me you can throat all this dick, bitch.”

Ashley turned her gaze onto the dashboard while Erik abused her throat. He fucked her mouth, hips moving faster, balls bouncing out of control and covered in spit. He yanked her hair again to pull her mouth from his dick and she spit on him again. Ashley started jerking him off while Erik pressed his forehead against hers.

“Pump that big dick…pump that dick…down to the balls…up to the tip…uhnnnnnhhhhhhhhh…you’re my good little passenger princess? You’re my nasty little bitch?”

He made his voice sound all whiny and Ashley almost lost it. Erik used his teeth on her again and attacked her neck. Ashley let go of his dick to watch it sway back and forth. She slapped it around, amazed at how stiff it is. Erik removed his face from her neck and watched, face frowned with lust, stare at the long stream of pre-cum oozing from his tip.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Erik’s body seized up, “Ima bust, baby, I can’t hold it anymore.”

His voice trembled when Ashley started sucking some more. It’s been three days and no nut. He was fighting the urge to hold back but she was sucking that shit like an icy on a hot summer day.

“You nasty fucking bitch, how fucking dare you—here it comes—”

Ashley prided in herself when Erik came down her throat. It was rewarding and abundant. His hips bucked and his head fell back with defeat. Ashley giggled with cum-covered braces. He lost, and even though this meant that Kittie had more of a shot at fucking him than she did, at least she got to taste him. At least she got to swallow his cum.

“Game over, fuck that,” Erik said between breaths, “You knew what you were doing.”

Erik kissed her with his cum still on her lips. She jerked his sloppy girth while sticking her tongue out towards the camera. Somehow, Erik felt that wasn’t all of it.

“Cant wait to rub this one in her face,” Ashley said.

Sugar Kittie was in her room, playing a game. Her headset was over her ears, so she couldn’t hear Ashley entering her room. Ashley was all smiles, confident in what she’d accomplished—making Erik Steel cum with her mouth.

Ashley tapped Kittie on the shoulder. Kittie paused her game and removed her headset, turning in her pink gamer chair.

“What’s all this mess on your bed?”

Ashley motioned to Sugar Kittie’s bed. It was covered in sex toys. What Kittie didn’t want to share was that she’d been dreaming about Erik fucking her brains out. She was so horny and wet that she decided to go through her toy box to see if most of her toys still worked. She found her Sailor Moon butt plugs that she’d been looking for and put one in her ass while making herself cum all morning. She had a big mess to clean.

“I was in the middle of organizing my toy box but decided to hop online for a little bit. Why are you smiling like that?”

Ashley was too giddy not to share with Kittie.

“Oh nothing much, just a little run-in with our professor.”

Ashley took a seat on the edge of Kittie’s bed, sliding some dildos out of the way so she wouldn’t sit on them. She could see that Kittie was growing irritated the more she sat in silence.

“Well? What happened?” Kittie pressed.

Ashley inspected her long, pink nails, “Just a little blow job…with a tasty reward at the end.”

Kittie’s mouth fell open. Ashley smiled brightly.

“I got to play passenger princess and suck his dick. His cum tastes like pineapples.”

Ashley made a slurping noise with her mouth. Kittie tossed a tiny stuffed animal at Ashley’s head.

“He wasn’t supposed to cum! Ugh,” Kittie tossed her controller on top of her desk, “So that means what? He lost?”

“Technically, but isn’t there supposed to be another round for each of us?”

“Yeah.” Kittie said with a flat tone. She was pissed that Ashley got to taste his cum.

“He’s done playing anyway. He said he’s tired of our games.”

Kittie didn’t know what to expect now. Was he finished all together? Did he like Ashley’s mouth more than her? She saw him first. She was the true throat goat.

“I’m gonna take a shower. No need to be all sad, Kittie, the best girl wins. Apparently, I suck dick better than you.”

“Lies!” Kittie fired back.

Ashley blew Kittie a kiss and left the room, laughing to herself.

“Bitch,” Kittie folded her arms.

Meanwhile, Erik had a few words for Sugar Kittie. He got himself cleaned up and put on a white T-shirt and some grey sweats. He walked across the hall to their door and knocked. When they didn’t answer on the first knock, Erik pounded. Sure enough, the woman he wanted to see opened the door. She wore a blond wig with a tiny white blouse and grey shorts that fit her two sizes too small. Erik’s eyes started at her feet covered in white thigh-high stockings and then all the way up to her cleavage spilling over the top of her bra.

“Erik?” Kittie didn’t expect him.

“Can I come in?”

She stepped aside and he walked over the threshold. Erik felt as if he’d stepped into another dimension. It was sickeningly adorable how much pink surrounded him. Kittie stepped in front of him with a glare.

“You came, you weren’t supposed to cum.” She said.

Erik looked at her.

“You didn’t expect me to hold that in for three days straight, did you?”

Kittie rolled her eyes away from Erik, “You let her get a taste before me.”

“Kittie,” Erik tried to grab her arm but Kittie stormed off in the direction of her room. Erik was right on her tail. He caught the door in his hand before she could slam it shut. In the distance, he could hear the shower running.

“Daddy’s sorry, baby. She was sucking on my dick so good. I couldn’t control it.”

“But you controlled it for me,” Kittie turned her back to Erik, “It’s not fair. I played the game better. I should have been the one to taste you first.”

Erik exhaled, shutting Kittie’s door slightly. Anime covered the walls and she had manga and little collectibles on a book shelf. The carpet was fuzzy and white and it smelled like lavender and vanilla. His eyes fell to her bed surrounded with sex toys. He arched a single brow at her. Kittie looked up at him with timid eyes.

“I was organizing.”

Erik knew better.

“No…looks like you were having some fun. Without me?”

“You were too busy getting your dick sucked to notice.” Kittie argued.

He walked up to her slowly while she took a few steps back. The back of her legs hit the bed and she lost her footing. Erik was standing over her, his imposing body trapping her there.

“That’s in the past. I’m here now, aren’t I? And I think we both know what’s about to happen…”

Erik picked up a toy that was red at the base with a silicone pink tongue. It reminded him of the rose, same mechanics. Kittie watched him inspect the toy, her heart racing.

“I think it’s time we do things my way now. Play time is over, Kittie.”

Erik sat the toy down momentarily and lifted his shirt over his head from behind. His muscles flexed without much effort. Kittie’s eyes roamed his body hungrily. He got closer, leaning over her until she was on her elbows. The soft material of her thigh-high stockings tickled his waist. Erik took both of her meaty thighs in his grip, pushing them back so she would be spread open for him. He pressed his body against hers and started dry-pounding her clothed pussy. The friction was so sweet. He climbed off of her and with her thighs still opened, Erik grabbed both of her ankles.

“Daddy,” Kittie spoke weakly.

“Let’s see how much you can take this toy on your clit…you think you can do that?”

Kittie nodded her head. Erik let her legs down and instructed for her to stand. The camera in the room focused on Sugar Kittie and all of her curves. Erik stood behind her and while looking over her shoulder, he kissed along her neck while untying her white blouse. It fell open, revealing a pink push-up bra. Both of them looking down into the camera, Erik cupped her breasts and squeezed. Sugar Kittie reached behind her to caress Erik’s neck.

“Mmm,” She moaned.

“They fit so nicely in my hands.” Erik whispered.

Kittie turned her head and poked out her tongue for Erik to suck on. His thumbs stroked her nipples through her bra. There was a camera taped to the ceiling to get good shots from above.

He trailed his fingers up and behind him to unclamp her bra. When it fell from her shoulders, Erik didn’t waste time palming both of her titties. He pinched her brown nipples and pulled, eliciting a whimper from Kittie.

“I could suck on these all day…too bad they don’t have any milk…I’d drink you dry, baby.”

She couldn’t hold back her moan. He was so nasty.

Erik nibbled on her shoulder and made his way down to his knees, his mouth creating a path towards her stomach. He kissed her belly button and with his eyes never leaving hers, he found the waistband to her shorts and pulled. The more they fell past her hips, the more he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

To see that pussy face to face for the first time left him speechless. She had a landing strip above her phat pussy lips that Erik trailed with his tongue. Erik kissed her hips and made his way up until his mouth latched onto her left nipple. Kittie gripped his hair and stared into the camera while Erik devoured her. He went from nipple to nipple, sucking and nibbling.

“Ooh, yes,” Kittie moaned, “I love your mouth, daddy.”

He bounced her titties and motor-boated her. His tongue and lips didn’t leave any part of her untouched. He latched onto her neck again and Kittie’s hand found its way to his crotch. The camera zoomed in on her hand groping him through his grey sweats. Erik grunted before bringing a hand up to her neck. It was all eyes on him at all times. Kittie blinked her feline eyes at him while they kissed.

“This dick is so big in my hand….”

“Too much for you?” Erik questioned, his lips touching hers, “It shouldn’t be with the way you were throating if the other day.”

“I can take this dick in my pussy,” Kittie replied with a hushed voice.

Erik walked Kittie over to the bed again, his hand stil around her neck, pushing her down gently. She bounced, the springs in the bed creaking. Erik made himself comfortable behind her and instructed for Kittie to spread her legs wide and lean back against him. He picked up that vibrating tongue and activated it. The vibrations seemed strong. Erik guided a hand between her legs again and found her clit with his finger tips.

“Gotta get that clit nice and ready for the sweet torture, right, baby?” Erik said with a sexy, sotto voice.

“Yes.” Kittie said.

Erik traced Kittie’s nipples with the vibrating tongue. She squirmed against his chest, breasts moving from left to right. Her nipples were stiff peaks sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout her body. She could feel her wet lower lips quiver.

The camera panned over her body. Erik gave her nipples a break but her pussy wasn’t off the hook. Erik found her clit with the tip of the vibrating tongue and put it on the higher vibration. Kittie moaned, groaned, cried out for him to make her cum. Clit swollen, Kittie watched that vibrator with disbelief in her eyes.

“Keep your eyes on this pussy…I want you to watch…you see how I move it over your clit like this,” Erik strokes her clit from side to side, “Like that, Miss Kittie?” Erik questioned with a hushed tone.

“Daddy, please,” Kittie begged, “I like it, I like it, daddy!”

“"No, baby, not yet; don’t you fucking cum just yet. I’m not done with you; hold it! Keep these fuckin’ legs open till I’m done...”

Kittie’s thigh meat shook out of control. She was so wet that it covered the toy. It sounded like a pot of mac and cheese stirring. Just wet and gushy. Just before she could cum, Erik turned the toy off and tossed it on the bed. Kittie pouted and whimpered.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Now you see how I felt.”

Erik grabbed a hot pink dildo. He lined it up with Kittie’s pussy and pushed past her tight opening until that toy was sucked inside. He didn’t waste time pumping. She couldn’t keep still against his chest. Her legs were spread far apart for him to use her favorite toy to fuck her needy little hole. Sugar Kittie whines and moans as she grips his arm, doing her best to stay still. Her eyes cross like a brainless slut.

“You look so good…look at all that cream. I can’t wait to get that all over my dick. Shhh, you wouldn’t want Ashley to hear us, would you?”

Erik forced his fingers into her mouth so she wouldn’t startle her roommate. This was Sugar Kittie in her true state. Just a brainless little fuck toy for Erik to play with till his heart's content.

“Didn’t I say you couldn’t cum? Not until I eat this pussy, slut.”

Ashley stepped out of her bathroom, slightly cold from the temperature change. She was completely naked and she pinned her hair up. Walking past Kittie’s room to get to hers, Ashley heard moaning. She would have ignored it because she’d heard Kittie’s moans plenty of times, but there was male voice. It could only be one man. Ashley tiptoed to Kittie’s door and peeked inside. She stood shocked, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide.

Kittie was on her back, thighs spread and pussy open. Erik Steel was sucking her clit into his mouth. Kittie could do nothing but moan. Ashley had seen Kittie naked many times before, but the way she looked right now, body covered in a sheen of sweat, nipples stiff, pussy soaked, butt plug poking out like a surprise, she could feel herself growing wet.

Erik was on that pussy. Tongue and lips. He had that pussy wetter than a pond. He would take control of her hips and force her pussy to grind on his tongue. It was beautiful. She envied how she must feel right now.

Ashley couldn’t help but touch herself to this view. She brought one hand to her tittie and used her thumb to bring her nipple to life. Her other hand went to her waxed pussy and when her fingertips spread her outer lips, Ashley couldn’t believe how wet she was already. She didn’t hold back.

“Awe, baby, don’t cry.” Erik said, his fingers rubbing Kittie’s clit rapidly, “I know we can get you to finish again. Shhhh shhhh, you’re doing so well, love. You can give me one more. After that, we’ll get you all cleaned up. That’s my good girl!”

“FUCK!”

Ashley couldn’t see because Erik’s mouth was sucking that cum out like it was a Capri Sun. Kittie’s eyes drifted towards the door and when she spotted Ashley watching, she smirked at her and gave her a wink. This must of been her way to get back her.

“Daddy, am I good slut?”

“Mhm, daddy’s good pussy slut.”

Ashley and Kittie locked eyes again.

“Daddy, we have a special guest at the door.”

Erik turned his head and squinted. He stood up, beard covered in pussy juice, and flung open Kittie’s door. Erik was eating her alive with his penetrating gaze. Those big titties of hers sat jutted out, and her wide hips with a big ass to match had him thinking nasty thoughts.

“Baby Ashley. If you wanted to join us, all you had to do was ask,” Kittie teased.

“She wants to get fucked too, look at her face.”

Ashley was driven by lust. She didn’t hide her horniness.

Erik curled his finger into a come-hither motion and Ashley walked into the room. She was startled by Erik’s hands clapping her on the ass. Kittie stood up from the bed, sauntering over towards them. Erik cut his eyes at her and popped her across the ass too.

“Fuck yes,” Erik took turns slapping both of their cheeks around, “Bend it over.”

Kittie and Ashley turned their backs to Erik and got down into a twerk stance. They started bouncing their cheeks around, filling the room with a round of applause. Erik sat his dick between both women’s backs while they shook ass.

Ashley threw her ass back against Erik, moving Kittie out of the way. She started grinding up and down Erik’s dick until it fell between her cheeks. Erik whacked her on the ass hard and grabbed her hair into his fist, straightening her back and turning her to face him. Kittie took the opportunity to grind her ass on Erik’s dick. While Erik had his tongue down Ashley’s throat, Kittie twerked on his dick to gain his attention back. It seemed to work because Erik smoothed his hand down her back and and slid his fingers in her pussy from behind.

“Look at both of y’all fighting over this dick. Who should I give it to first?”

Ashley and Kittie scrambled knees, mouths open wide and tongues out. Erik gripped both of their chins and looked down on them with sultry eyes.

“Pick me, daddy, please, I’m the best. ” Kittie begged.

“Who made you cum with their mouth first?” Ashley taunted.

“Ashley, you can’t beat me in a dick-sucking contest.” Kittie fired back.

“I know I could. Why don’t we let Erik be the judge of that.”

They both blinked their eyes up Erik expectantly while he caressed their chins.

“All talk and no action, ladies. Show me who’s the best.” Erik said.

He left them on their knees and took a seat in Kittie’s pink gaming chair. They crawled to him, the camera following them from behind, a view of their phat asses and wet pussies the focal point. Erik widened his legs and grabbed his dick, jerking it towards their faces.

Kittie reached him first and without hesitation, she wrapped her lips around his tip and started swallowing him. Ashley put her face in it too, her tongue dragging over his balls.

“She got to the dick first, Ash, what was all that talk? She sucking my shit to the back of her throat right now.” Erik teased.

He smoothed Kittie’s blonde wig from her eyes to have a better view. When she came up for air, she spit on his dick and Ashley popped it in her mouth. Kittie laughed, her hand gripping Erik’s balls with spit dripping from her chin. Ashley swirled hee tongue around his tip, causing Erik to grunt. Kittie snatched the dick from her hand and with her wet eyes and ruined makeup, she slurped on Erik so good that it made the loudest, nastiest noises.

“Damn, Kittie, suck that fucking dick, girl. Get that dick,” Erik grabbed her head with both hands and fucked up into her mouth hastily.

Guck! guck! guck! guck! ahk! guck! guck! ahk!

“Fuck! Shitttttt, baby,” Erik slapped his dick on her lips, before holding it out towards Ashley’s mouth, “Your turn. Let me see if that throat still deep.”

He had Ashley’s hair in a tight fist and he scooted his hips to the edge of the chair so he could fuck her mouth. Erik’s dick darted in and out of her jaws. She gagged and spit his dick out. Kittie giggled and Erik looked at Ashley with disappointment.

“Gimmie that dick,” Kittie slapped him on her tongue and with both of her hands she twisted her wrists like she was grinding pepper. Kittie focused all of her sucking on his tip.

“That’s how you get a nut, baby. There you go…”

Ashley could only suck on his balls. Erik put her face in it with the back of his hand. His eyebrows scrunched and his mouth fell open when Kittie swallowed him again.

“Oh my god—”

Erik stood up quickly and fisted his dick towards their open mouths. Kittie and Ashley put their tongues together and caught Erik’s thick cum. They cleaned him off and Erik flopped back down in the chair.

“See what happens when you work together? Both of y’all made daddy cum.” Erik praised.

Kittie and Ashley shared a look. They couldn’t deny that their team work paid off. Ashley startled Kittie when she grabbed a handful of her titties.

“Ash?” Kittie was in shock.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you when Erik was eating your pussy. You looked so good.”

Kittie blushed, “It turned me on when you were watching me…”

Erik smirked at both of them.

“Y’all got a lot of sexual tension between y’all. I’m surprised y’all haven’t messed around.” Erik said.

Kittie gave Ashley a shy look. Ashley continued to massaged Kittie’s titties.

“I mean…I’ve always wondered what that pussy tastes like,” Ashley whispered seductively, “Maybe you could…feed my curiosity?”

Kittie was pushed down to the fluffy, white carpet.

To say that Ashley was a beast at eating pussy was an understatement. She had her ass in the air and her lips sucking on Kittie’s clit. Erik had his hands full of that big dick, stroking it slowly. Kittie tugged on her nipples whenever Ashley had her clit between her lips.

“Fuck, Ashley,” Kittie moaned, “eat that pussy, baby.”

Erik’s mouth was salivating. His dick was hard enough and it wasn’t going soft any time soon. He joined them on the floor and Kittie watched him take his place next to Ashley.

“Daddy, you want some pussy too?” Kittie asked with a sweet little voice.

He responded with his tongue on her clit. Ashley brought her wet kisses down between her folds while Erik stayed on that clit. Kittie couldn’t run even if she tried. Whenever she moved her hips, Erik had one leg while Ashley had the other.

“She’s gonna cum hard, look at her,” Ashley giggles, “awww, it feels too good?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my god,” Kittie’s entire body went into a frenzy, “Erik! ASH! FUUUCKKKKK!”

They buried their faces in it and suffocated just so they could taste her cum. Delirious, Kittie sat up and kissed Erik to taste herself. All three of them joined tongues and lips, Erik’s hands all over their asses, Ashley and Kitties moans and whimpers filling the room.

Kittie pulled away to suck on Ashley’s big titties. Ashley could feel Erik doing the same now. She sat up on her knees and felt weak with two pairs of lustful gazes on her face.

“These big titties…I wish my titties were this big…mmm…so juicy.” Kittir said.

“She loves it, look at her face,” Erik said, “Big, fucking, titties.”

Ashley could only moan.

Erik and Kittie each held a tittie and sucked on her hard nipples.

“That shit feels so damn good!”

Erik used his free hand to rub Ashley’s pussy.

“I think we should eat that pussy next…Whatchu think, Kittie?”

“I think we should eat it while she’s standing up. See if she can handle that since she talks so much shit.” Kittie said.

“Get on your feet, slut.” Erik ordered.

Ashley stood up and she didn’t have time to react when both of their tongues wiggled on her pussy. She almost lost her balance trying to lift her leg on Kittie’s desk to give them better access. Erik munched on her pussy with so much gusto Kittie had to hold Ashley’s leg out of the way. They left a trail of spit from her ass to her pussy. Kittie wiggled her tongue in her ass, holding one hefty cheek out of the way.

“Since you wanna talk so much shit. We got you right where we want you,” Kittie said with a laugh.

“That’s why she talk so much shit. She asking for us to slut her out. That’s what sluts do, right? They act out so they can get put in place. Hold that fucking leg up so I can eat this pussy!”

Ashley cried out. Kittie’s tongue in her ass and Erik’s tongue on her clit proved them right. She couldn’t handle it.

“Think cuz you got this fat ass I won’t put you in your place…”

“Fat ass and fat titties,” Kittie added.

“She creaming now, look,” Erik took the thick swathe of his tongue and slurped her pussy into his mouth to catch it.

“Shit! Unh! Uhhhhhhh!

Erik’s fingers dug into Ashely’s ass.

“Cum, bitch! Yessss! Feed daddy that cum! Show him who this pussy belong to!” Kittie encouraged Ashley.

She came so hard that her foot dropped from the table. Erik still had his face all in it. Kittie slapped Ashley on the ass.

“Good girl,” Erik’s face was glossy from her pussy juices, “I’m ready to fuck now.”

Baby Ashley and Sugar Kittie were on their backs beneath the hot pink lights. They caressed their bodies and stared up into the camera on the ceiling. Both of their ankles and wrists were bound with pink robe to keep them from moving. Erik Steel, the hottest male pornstar in the game, was standing there, dick pointed out at Kitty’s pussy first.

From above, you could see him dip his hips, dick massaging between her folds. Erik smacked it on her clit, Kittie’s fat pussy like a soft pillow. She flicked her tongue at him; teasing him, but her stomach was doing somersaults. She waited for this moment. To finally fuck Erik Steel. She was honored when he contacted her to collaborate. It still felt like a dream.

Ashley moaned from Erik’s fingers rubbing her pussy. She couldn’t wait to see him perform. Feel him inside of her. To fuck Erik Steel was equivalent to winning the lottery. That dick was the jackpot. Staring up at him—locs wild, gold in his mouth and around his neck, big dick—she knew this was going to be the best sex she’d ever had.

Erik stared between two women he’d been dying to collaborate with. He was especially excited about fucking both of them at once. Kittie was first to get the dick. With a firm grip, Erik was right at her opening. Eyes locked with hers, he pushed past and immediately her walls sucked him in.

“Unh! Oh, fuck,” She scrunched her face, “It’s so much dick!”

Erik heard it all before.

He pulled out all the way and then thrust back inside. Erik repeated this a few times, going faster each time. Dick back inside, he grabbed Kittie by the neck and started knocking her walls loose. His hips snapped sharply forward and the bed bounced and creaked beneath her.

“Shit,” Ashley watched with envy, “Fuck that pussy up, Kill!”

“Can’t go nowhere, take this dick. Don’t you fucking cum, don’t you cum without Daddy’s permission, you hear me? If you cum, Daddy’s gonna make you cum again and again until you’re shaking, begging, and pleading for me to stop. Do you understand me?”

Kittie couldn’t form a sentence.

“Oh, fuck, fuuuckkkkkk!” She cried out.

Erik’s fingers thrust inside of Ashley’s pussy. She squirmed when he found her g-spot. Erik looked from Kittie to Ashley and back.

“Kittie,” Erik warned, “Don’t make me put it deeper. Listen to daddy when he tells you to do something.”

He had his lip between his teeth and the way he watched her fall apart beneath him didn’t help. He was staring into her soul. Face neutral, dick drilling, eyes watching her.

Ashley fought hard to keep from cumming but he was fingering her pussy so good that she ended up squirting. Erik put his messy fingers in her mouth and stared at her with a mean mug on his face that would make any bitches pussy weep.

“Ima punish you wit’ this dick for that.”

“Erik!”

Kittie cried literal tears. Erik didn’t let up.

“I’m fucking cumming!” She shouted.

She convulsed and her walls spasmed around his dick. Erik grunted and pulled out, slapping her pussy hard for disobeying him.

“Y’all just do what the fuck you want, huh?”

Erik went to Ashley next. He put that dick in and she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Got you looking stupid,” Erik had her by the ropes and started pile driving her, “Dick deep in that pussy, baby? Hm? You cum on this dick since you don’t wanna listen!”

“Why are you fucking me like that?!”

Kittie could ask the same thing. She was still spaced out.

“Dick is just deep in my pussy!”

Ashley groaned. She dropped her head to the bed and all she could see from that angle was her titties bouncing around and Erik folding her in half. He held his dick inside and wiggled his hips before picking back up again. Ashley’s eyes crossed and her mouth fell open. She poked her tongue out like a brainless slut and squirted on his dick.

He stood back and stared down at the mess all over him. His dick was shiny and brick hard from the base to the tip. He couldn’t be mad at them, his dick had that affect on women. Erik untied them both and massaged their wrists and ankles. Ashley turned around and arched her back. Kittie crawled in front of Ashley and spread her thighs so she could get her pussy ate.

Erik spread both of her cheeks and with his hips, he sank deep inside Ashley. She let out a muffled moan with her face buried between Kittie’s legs. Erik’s eyes connected with Kittie’s while he was fucking Ashley from the back.

“You like getting that pussy ate by your roommate, baby?”

“Yes. You love the way her pussy feel, daddy?”

“It’s so warm and wet, arch your back, slut!”

Ashley’s deepened the arch in her back and she tried to continue eating Kittie’s pussy but Erik was digging her out. She looked back at him and pouted her lip.

“Fuck this pussy!” Ashley shouted, “This your pussy!”

“I’m glad you know who you belong to, slut.” Erik replied.

Ashley’s arms were in Erik’s grip. He continued to deliver precise shots that she could feel in her stomach. Her face mashed against the bed and Kittie watched with satisfaction the way Erik used her.

“Get up! Fuck I say? Arch your back for daddy!”

Erik spanked her.

“Ashley, I’m not finna keep repeating myself. Stop running, girl! Shit,” Erik lifted her and plowed her pussy, “Just like that, nowhere to run, take it in that fucking pussy, uhuh, uhuh—”

“OH MY GOD!”

Ashley’s body was no longer in her control. She dropped her head forward and without a word, she came on Erik’s dick. He dropped her to the bed and she continued to shake.

Erik slapped her ass, “You did so good, baby girl. You took that shit like a pro.”

Kittie was too anxious for her turn. She arched her back so deep for Erik he didn’t even have to tell her. Erik walked around to the other side of the bed and got behind her. She looked back at him and watched Erik put that big dick in.

“Uhhhh…mmm,” Kittie shut her eyes, “Oooooooo…Daddy is so deep….”

She threw it back on Erik with a fist full of sheets. The recoil of her throw back game had him speechless. Ashley scooted over and reached beneath Kittie to rub her clit. She looked up at Erik with a bite of her lip

Erik puckered his lips at her then stuck his tongue out so she could taste it. Ashley ran her tongue over Erik’s and they kissed while Kittie put that pussy on him. He broke the kiss and licked his lips with his eyes on the way Kittie was handling him. Ashley licked his pierced nipples one by one.

“Gahhdamn, bitch! Pussy just eating this dick up!”

She was taking it better than Ashley. Erik fucked her with just his hips. That ass collided with his hips so heavy it almost knocked him back.

“Take that dick, Kittie…show out, bitch.” Ashley encouraged.

“You asking for me to nut in you, keep playing wit’ me.” Erik warned.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!”

“Make yourself cum then!” Erik barked out.

“Oh yes!—”

Erik couldn’t believe he was about to bust. He held off as best as he could, but that pussy was warm and tight he had to release. Kittie slowed down and rocked back on Erik’s dick until she couldn’t anymore. Erik took her by the hips and gave her continuous shots until she was crying for him to stop. Kittie came hard on his dick again. Erik felt that down to his balls and he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he had to cum.

“Down on your knees! Both of y’all!”

They got down on their knees and held their titties up . The camera above them caught Erik pumping his dick until thick ropes of cum shot from his slit and onto Kittie’s face and Ashley’s eyes. He kept going, more and more showering them all over. They both looked like glazed donuts when he was finished with them.

“So much cum!” Ashley said with disbelief.

“You do taste good,” Kittie said while licking her lips with her eyes on him.

Both ladies looked into the camera and winked, the scene fading to black.

“CUT!”

Erik took a seat in one of the set chairs with a cigar in hand and a glass of whiskey sitting on a table beside him. Things were clearing out on set, but he wanted to enjoy a smoke before he headed out. He had a busy day in the morning. An interview with a new girl and two scenes to film. He still had an early gym session too.

As he took puffs of his cigar, Kittie was leaving her assigned trailer wearing this pink and white matching two-piece set with a bow in her hair and pink thigh holster with hearts.

She was carrying a large, ballerina pink Telfar bag with all her clothes from the set. She noticed Erik sitting in one of the set chairs and waved at him before making her way towards him.

“Heading out?” Erik asked.

“Yes. What’s this?”

Kittie pointed to Erik’s glass.

“Whiskey.” He replied.

Kittie picked up his glass and drank some.

“It’s aight,” she laughed at his expression, “I’m guessing Ashley already left set.”

She did after giving Erik one final throat massage.

“Yeah, she bounced. I think she said something about doing a swinger party tonight.”

Kittie sat his glass back down. She placed her hands on the arm of the set chair and looked up at Erik through her lashes.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this, Mr. Steel, but it was an honor working with you. I can’t wait until everyone gets to see what you’ve created.”

Kittie was such a sweetheart. Erik smiled at her.

“You’re welcome, love. We should definitely connect again. You free within the next week?”

Kittie took a second to think about it.

“I am actually. You know I live in Miami. I’m flying back tonight.”

“I can take my private jet. We should film a poolside scene. You got my number, right?”

“I do. And I’m down. Is Friday a good time?”

Erik nodded his head, “That’s perfect actually. How are you getting to the airport?”

“Lyft. I still need to request one—shit, I left my phone in the trailer.”

Erik’s eyes couldn’t stop staring at Kittie’s body.

Down boy…behave…

Kittie walked away back towards the trailer and Erik was stuck on that ass moving. He wanted her again so bad. When filming, he couldn’t fully enjoy her because of the time frame. They were wrapped up on set now. The perfect opportunity to get his dick wet. Kittie entered the trailer and Erik put out his cigar. He needed that pussy one more time before she left. Unable to control himself, Erik stood up and walked towards the trailer.

Kittie was inside at her vanity unplugging her phone. She looked up through the mirror and jumped when she saw Erik.

“Erik! Shit!” Kittie put a hand to her chest, “Daddy, you scared me…”

She turned to face him and saw the look in his eyes. Erik walked up on her and Kittie gave him a look of lust when he pressed his body against hers.

“You were my favorite, you know that?” He whispered.

“Now I do,” Kittie smirked, “You want something from me?”

“Maybe I do…”

His hands on her waist, Erik picked Kittie up and sat her on the vanity. She looked at him beneath the glow of the vanity lights.

“Mr. Steel,” Kittie gasped when his hand rubbed her pussy through her shorts, “what are you doing?”

Erik brought his lips to her neck and starting sucking on it. She arched up against him, hands on his chest and moans in his ears.

He parted his lips to speak, “Can I have that pussy again, Kittie?”

She couldn’t believe her ears.

“You’re serous?”

Erik looked at her like she was crazy for asking him that.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

It was an honor. She had to know for sure.

“Yes.” She spoke with no hesitation.

Erik sat up and rushed to snatched her shorts off so rough they almost ripped. He tossed them to the floor and when he looked down at her naked lower half he chuckled knowingly.

“Of course…no panties…almost like you wanted me to catch you like this…”

Erik untied his robe and struggled it from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor at his feet. Kittie drank him in. He has such a beautiful body. And his dick was just as remarkable. He was so long and thick she couldn’t even believe all that was inside of her.

“C’mere and get some more of this dick.”

Erik picked Kittie up from the vanity, wrapped her legs around his waist, and dropped her down on his dick. She circled his neck with her arms and Erik wasted no time fucking her hard. He hooked his arms around her thighs and started laying that pipe. Erik didn’t look away from her once. She hung from his neck and Erik put his back into it, pounding her deep. His gold chain kept knocking her in the face and his short locs tickled her forehead.

“I couldn’t watch you go without another taste, baby…fuck, your—your pussy so good I wanna nut in you, I ain’t get to nut in you, baby.” He told her with a tremble in his voice from how good her pussy felt.

The way he spoke to her made her feel like the only girl in his world. He was a pro at this. Erik had a way of hypnotizing you. She couldn’t even look him in his sexy face. Whenever she did, her pussy throbbed around his dick. Those dimples deep in his cheeks whenever he bit his lip, his cognac eyes commanding her, the gold slugs in his mouth. Kittie could go on and on about this man.

“Friday? Nah, How about Monday?” He said.

Kittie’s mouth fell open in a silent scream. She pressed her face against Erik’s neck and heat crept over her body. A tingling blaze from her toes to her head. She couldn’t believe he was making her cum already. What kind of voodoo magic did he possess at the tip of his dick?

“Erikkkkkk,” Kittie’s body seizes.

He rocked her in his embrace while she rode out her climax.

“Monday it is.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling.

Erik walked Kitty towards the couch and sat down. She knew what to do. With her hands on his shoulders, she bounced on his dick. Erik loved her energy. She was ready for another round like she didn’t just cum hard back to back. Erik’s arms splayed out and he locked eyes with her. After all this fucking, he didn’t need to go to gym. She was his workout.

“There you go, that’s how you ride daddy’s dick, baby.”

“I love this dick, daddy,” Kittie gripped Erik’s throat, her fingers barely able to fit, “ohmiiiigodddddddd!”

Erik slapped her ass, “You got it, baby, you know how to take this dick.”

She could feel herself creaming all over him.

He let her have her fun, but he wanted to nut in her. Cream pie that pussy.

“Uhuh, get on this dick and act up, you ride it so good.”

She set the speed and tempo and Erik helped her by moving his hips to penetrate deeper. Kittie put one of her hands on her ass and wrapped her other arm around Erik’s neck. Erik caressed her other cheek with his palm, kissing on her neck and cleavage. With his free hand on the couch behind him to stabilize his body, he pumped his hips.

“This dick is the best dick I ever had!”

“Fuck…grip my shit like that again—”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.” Erik praised Kittie.

Hey pulled her in for another deep kiss.

“Get on your back, Kittie,” Erik popped her on the ass because she was moving too slow, “come on, girl.”

Kittie didn’t have time to catch her breath after that. He was so anxious. Kittie was on her back before she could even prepare herself and Erik folded her up. She held her legs back with her arms and he went to work fucking her into the couch. Her moans fell on deaf ears.

“You got me hooked on you…why you mess my head up like that? Huh?”

She was too busy trying to find the words to speak.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re such a good slut…You take my dick so good…I love that about you, baby girl.”

He was close. The demon in him smirked. He was going to fill her the brim with his cum. She deserved it for having such good pussy.

“Cum in my pussy, daddy?” Kittie asked with a shaky voice.

“OH SHIT—”

“Don’t pull out, daddy, fill my pussy up—”

“Here it comes—”

Erik’s dick throbbed inside of her with every release of his cum. He finally withdrew his hips carefully, and when he looked down his dick was covered in their mixture of fluids. Kittie pushed some of his cum out and it drizzled down the crack of her ass. Erik gathered it on the head of his dick and rubbed it all over her clit.

“I must be really special for you to do that,” Kittie jokes.

Erik stood up and went to retrieve his phone so that he could take a picture for memory.

“Spread it open, mhm,” Erik turned on his flash and recorded a video, “Push it out, uhuh, now rub it in…”

Kittie looked into the camera and gave Erik a pretty smile and a wink.

“Now, thank Daddy for turning you into a twinkie.”

Kittie couldn’t hold back her laugh, “Thank you, Mr. Steel, for cumming in my pussy.”

Kittie giggled when Erik slapped her hand out of the way so he could hold her pussy open.

“You are loving that,” Kittie mentioned.

Erik finally ended the video and helped Kittie off of the couch.

“Well, let me go shower again before I go,” she traced her finger down his chest, “You wanna join me?”

Erik smirked at her, “Yeah, then I can drive you to the airport.”

He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder playfully, spanking her and earning a yelp.

She was definitely going to miss her flight at this rate.

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @thedonsfactory @greenhearts4bakari @kholdkill @soulfulbeauty19 @vintage-pvssy @ispywithmylileye @blaqwidow91 @queenfaithmarie @ladymac82 @fearlessem @nayaesworld @contentfiend @dxddykenn @hxneyclouds @shiania @ehniki @gigafaex @eyeknowmywrites @issimplyaamazinggg @dezi-rella @novaniskye @thethethe3210 @cydneyloo @ceeverse @cbtoosensitive @dremmmm @asweet-serendipity @twocentuar @kanilive @nccu-rnc

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger

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kingcunny · 1 year ago

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thank you sm!! <3

ive made a couple posts about balerion and viserys before, and i got another one in the works in my drafts. like im obviously biased but theyre one of my favorite dragon-rider bonds, even though they were only together for a year.

jorah in the main series says at one point that targaryen dragons were bred for war, and in war they died. balerion being the last of the valyria-born dragons probably has this instinct better than most. he takes aegon i as his rider because aegon is a conqueror, and is going to use him for the purpose he was born for.

the aegon i -> maegor line i think is pretty easy to understand. just like aegon i, maegor is also a conqueror. balerion sees in him that same war-instinct that he saw in aegon i, that he himself has.

maegor -> aerea is where things start to shift. balerion is an old war machine, but his last two riders died outside of war and away from him. aegon i from a stroke, maegor was eaten by the iron throne. hes made his lair on his not-quite-home dragonstone, when this upset little girl who misses the excitement of her life at court climbs on his back and tells him to take her home. i think balerion was fairly homesick at this point and thought “*i* want to go home too.” so he takes them home. back to his home. except balerion doesnt know that his home as been destroyed while he was gone. he spends those years with aerea *searching* for anything, any sign that the valyria that he remembers is still there. but theres nothing. its doomed and filled with monsters now. aerea spends the whole time begging him to take her back home, back to her mother. its only after hes injured and aerea is deathly ill that hes forced to accept that this is no longer their home. theres nothing here for them anymore, they dont belong here anymore than he belongs in westeros. so balerion reluctantly takes aerea back. maybe theres something they can do to save her, or failing that, at least shell be able to die in her home even if he cant die in his. after this balerion becomes the first dragon chained in the dragonpit.

finally, aerea -> viserys. i think viserys felt fairly alienated from the rest of his family, as he was so different from any of the other men he was related to. but he was raised to idolize old valyria (or at least the targaryens version of it) and feels that if he can claim balerion, if the last living aspect of valyria accepted him, well that means theres *something* targaryen in him. balerion was the living god of the thing he was raised to worship. when alyssa wanted to claim balerion, the dragonkeepers dissuaded her by telling her hes old and slow now, and wouldnt she rather a younger more energetic mount? i wonder if they tried the same thing with viserys, but viserys wouldnt care about that. thats not why viserys wanted balerion. all viserys wanted was balerions acceptance. balerion is very old now, old and tired and in pain. hes a war machine that can no longer fight, a dragon that can barely fly. but hes still holding on. he cant die yet. viserys is very different from balerions other riders, and i think that was the point. balerion could tell viserys didnt want anything from him, other than *him*. so balerion accepted viserys as he was, and viserys accepts balerion as he is. balerion gives viserys his final flight and thats enough for him. more than that even, after their first and last flight viserys tells baelon he wanted to fly to dragonstone but was worried that balerion wouldnt survive the flight. he was *worried for balerion*, worried about *his* health and safety and comfort. when has he had another rider care about him like that? (when has any dragon tbh...) viserys doesnt want to put more on balerion than he can handle. whatever balerion can offer him is enough. all viserys wanted was his love, and he got that. so he loves and comforts balerion in his final days. balerion doesnt have a home anymore, but viserys gives him one inside himself. he loves balerion enough to let him go. to let balerion finally lay down and rest.

(sorry for the screenshot answer i accidentally posted it before i was done <3)

#balerion #aegon i targaryen #maegor targaryen #aerea targaryen #viserys i targaryen #asoiaf #asks #my posts

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gluteus-canis-familiaris · 1 year ago

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I wondered if people back home would ever know what it cost the soldiers to win this war. In America, things were already beginning to look like peace time. The standard of living was on the rise, race tracks and nightclubs were booming. You couldn't get a hotel room in Miami Beach, it was so crowded. How could anyone ever know of the price paid by soldiers in terror, agony, and bloodshed if they'd never been to places like Normandy, Bastogne, or Haguenau? reconcile the fact that Nixon followed Winters from OCS to the paratroops, that they were two officers born in the same year amongst a company of mostly 18-year old baby boys, that Winters was so impressed at Nixon getting him the support and ammo he needed at Brecourt and so flattered when Nixon asked him to give a lecture on leadership to the incoming officers after D-Day that he had to write in his memoir about how that 'cAuGhT mY AtTenTion', that immediately after Winters explains how you can't let yourself succumb to emotion at the loss of men while you're on the front-- lapses in his incredibly professional and technical recollection of the war to say that had he lost Nixon to that bullet to the helmet in Holland, that THAT WOULD BE HIS ONE EXCEPTION, that everyone went on leave to Paris and who knows where but Winters and Nixon were the only two officers spending their night on base together right before the news that the Ardennes offensive had broken through??????, that Nixon gave up his blessed leave to the States to stay on the front in Bastogne and help, oh I dunno, the general war effort I guess??, and not a singular, daily-shaving, suffering-in-silence 2nd Battalion XO????, that Winters unintentionally described Nixon's alcoholism as "BEAUTIFUL" because it meant Winters would watch over everything during the day while Nixon would watch over things for him during the night and that they were essentially a military match made in heaven (it's! on! record! the voice clip!! is out there!!!), that Winters looked at this stupidly handsome, post-demotion alcoholic on VE-Day and said.... u kno wat.... here's some more of the stuff..... i saved it all under special guard duty just 4 u.......enjoy......"bro"......., that Nixon was COMPELLED !!! COMPELLED !!!! to drag this guy's butt back home to Jersey with him after the war, that years after the show when Ron Livingston was asked what his favorite scenes to shoot/watch were, he brought up previously mentioned moment and describes loving the bromance aspect of it, and has the AU-DA-CI-TY to liken the tension in it to when you're "INVITING THE GIRL TO PROM" (?!?!?!?! his words!!! not mine!!!), that Winters was Nixon's best man AND gave the eulogy at his funeral, THAT--

#band of brothers #hbowar #if it wasn't apparent #my very last braincell is petrified in the necrotic goo left behind by #WINNIX #dick winters #richard winters #lewis nixon #damian lewis #ron livingston #gonna tag this as #this is a helluva meme tab #but I am also just spitting facts here #more than a decade in this fandom foxhole #and i'm Totally Normal About Everything

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allieslittlewritings · 15 days ago

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Homemade Ornaments

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: How the Reids spend the Christmas season

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: None that I know of :)

A/n: Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate <3

Christmas in the Reid household was always a little bit extra. Spencer could count how many actually enjoyable Christmases he had growing up on one hand. Even as an adult, before having you, it was a time when he more often than not just felt the sickening feeling of loneliness eat him up. He once bought himself a Christmas tree and decorated it with ornaments he bought. For a second it was nice. Until it wasn't. It didn't feel the same as when he was five and him and his parents would dedicate hours to decorating their tree. It felt lonely and desperate. He didn't have the heart to put that tree up again.

Until you were born. For you, he would make Christmas fun and lively for as long as he physically could.

Your first Christmas was one of Spencer's favorite days of his life. Though you couldn't actually participate in decorating the Christmas tree or baking the cookies you couldn't eat, it no longer felt lonely.

Even if all you did was wordlessly stare at the pretty lights on the tree, it filled Spencer's heart with joy. You were going to love Christmas, he made sure of that.

The older you got, and the more things you were able to do, Spencer happily made up new family traditions for the two of you.

You always decorated the tree together. There wasn't a set date you did it, given his unpredictable work schedule. Sometimes it was as early as November 29th, and sometimes as late as Christmas Eve.

Spencer was busy attempting to plug the Christmas lights in while you made cups of hot chocolate. The same playlist of Christmas songs you listened to every year was quietly playing in the background.

You stood in wait, hot drinks in hand, and watched Spencer struggle far more than he should have knowing he'd done that every year for over a decade.

"Can I please just help you?" you asked.

"Nope, you could get electrocuted."

"So could you."

"True, but that's different," he insisted. "It would be irresponsible of me to knowingly put you in harm's way."

Finally, after what felt like a very long seventeen minutes and nineteen seconds, Spencer happily emerged from behind the tree. He adjusted his ugly Christmas sweater and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and then turned the lights on.

You lovingly admired the lights and handed your dad his mug.

"Ah, thank you, sweetheart."

You sat down in front of the tree and quietly sipped your drinks for a minute before you started hanging ornaments.

You cringed a little when you picked up the very misshapen ornament you made when you were a toddler. "Do we really have to hang this one up?"

Spencer gasped in hurt and took the ornament from your hand. "Yes. The tree would be incomplete without it. It was the first one you made without my help." You couldn't help but notice the absent-minded smile on his face as he admired the ornament in his hand.

Few words were spoken as you contently sat and continued decorating and sipping hot chocolate for the next hour or two. Every now and then you would reminisce on another old ornament. By the time you were done, Spencer could only count two that were store-bought.

Despite very year's activities being more or less the same, the tree, decorations, hot chocolate, music, and Christmas sweaters (Spencer bought you one slightly bigger than your size so you wouldn't grow out of it), it never got less enjoyable for either of you.

Baking cookies used to be a lot more chaotic. Spencer wasn't necessarily bad at baking, he just happened to burn or overbake cookies sometimes in fear of them not being baked enough and leading to you getting salmonella.

When you were old enough to help bake, the cookies turned out a lot better, they were (usually) edible.

This year you wanted to try baking gingerbread men. You gathered all the ingredients, your mixing bowl, and measuring cups.

While you made icing, Spencer measured out the ingredients. He liked to tell you about the exact ingredients and their chemical reactions when mixed together. It made baking twice as fun.

On the dining table you laid out things you could use to decorate your cookies. Frosting, chocolate chips, crushed pieces of candy. You removed a bowl of melted chocolate from the microwave and added that, too.

For no real reason, you and Spencer were excessively precise with your first ones, making sure your little gingerbread men looked like they were from a decorating cookbook. Admittedly, his looked a little better than yours.

Your second ones you did were far more messy. They all tasted the same any way, and the two of you devoured every bite.

Building snowmen was one of your personal favorite winter activities. Spencer always insisted you wear warm enough clothes, almost in excess when you were little.

Your snowman was almost complete, but it needed one last thing. And only then did you realize you failed to bring it with you.

"Dad, please tell me you remembered a carrot for his nose," you said, a dramatic amount of worry in your voice.

Spencer laughed quietly, "I was hoping you would remember but since you didn't..." He reached into your snowman making bag (something you thought of when you were four) and pulled out a carrot.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." You excitedly added the carrot to your snowman's face and stepped back to admire you and your dad's work.

"I think he looks gorgeous," you gushed.

"I have to agree," Spencer said. "Now, let's build him a daughter."

Christmas movies were a staple for the Reids during the holiday season. Most films you watched throughout the month were rewatches, but you would occasionally watch something new.

Spencer settled comfortably on the couch and and sipped his eggnog. You were busy putting your favorite Christmas movie in the DVD player. When you once suggested watching it on a streaming service, Spencer was horrified and told you to never say that again.

"How many times have we watched this movie?" you curiously asked your dad as the film started.

Spencer swallowed a gulp of soup. "Thirty-one and a half. If we continue at that rate, we'll be at a hundred-and-four when you're my age."

Not every Christmas was celebrated on actual Christmas Day. Spencer tried his best to be there every year but sometimes it simply wasn't possible. This year he was lucky enough to have the whole day off.

You woke up bright and early, so as to extend Christmas as far as possible, and sneaked to your dad's room.

Spencer snored quietly as he slept. You softly walked over to him and poked his arm repeatedly. "Dad."

Spencer hummed in response without actually opening his eyes. "It's Christmas, wake the fuck up."

Tiredly blinking his eyes open, Spencer started to groggily sit up. "Language." He wiped sleep out of his eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. "Sweetie, it's barely 6 AM."

"And?" You fiddled with the strings on your hoodie.

"And, your dad needs sleep." He lay back down with a groan but he could tell you weren't going anywhere.

He sighed and sat up again. "Fine, go get our hats."

You squealed happily and ran to get your mandatory Santa hats from the living room.

You already had yours on when you got back to his room.

"Running on socks is a bad idea." He yawned.

"Will coffee make you less of a Grinch?" you put his hat on his head, making sure to adjust his hair accordingly so it wouldn't feel off to him.

Spencer smiled tiredly. "Yes. Yes, it will."

The two of you made your way to the kitchen and you started making your coffee while Spencer put waffles in the toaster for breakfast.

He added whipped cream and chocolate chips to your waffles and crafted an almost snowman shaped clump.

You sat down in the living room — you opted for sitting on the floor in front of the couch — and ate your waffle.

You and Spencer were by no means chefs, but you still managed to make a decently good Christmas-esque meal. Some of the food was admittedly store-bought but you still tried to make a couple of things yourselves. The next few hours were spent cooking, baking, and talking with soft music playing.

Regardless of how well a dish actually turned out, you loved cooking with your dad. If it were anyone else you'd likely bump into them every other minute but you and Spencer worked well together. It was frankly quite surprising given your shared knack for clumsiness.

Spencer handed you a cherry and ate one himself. That was a mistake. You both thought the cherries were exceptionally good and thus the dessert you made ended up severely lacking in them.

"Two is probably enough, right?" You placed two cherries on top of the cake.

Spencer nodded in agreement as he popped another one in his mouth. "Definitely."

Once all the food was done, you took all of it to the dining table and set it out nicely.

"Bone apple teeth," you said with a bad attempt at a southern accent.

Spencer cringed. "Y/n..."

You cleared your throat. "Да ти е сладко." You smiled.

"Velbekommen," Spencer said back.

You continued to say the same phrase in every language the two of you knew. You stopped when you got bored, Spencer could say it in at least three more languages.

You took your emptied plates to the kitchen, though you delayed washing them until much later, and then joined your dad by the Christmas tree holding two slices of cake.

Every year, you challenged yourself to find Spencer a book you thought he would like, but hadn't read yet. This year you finally found one of the books you knew he'd been looking for for a long time. An old book from the early 19th century written by a not-so-famous mathematician.

Along with the book, which he greatly appreciated, you also got him a T-shirt and an oversized hoodie, one red and one purple. Ninety-nine percent of his outfits were made up of button-up shirts and ties, you wanted to get him something comfortable.

"Are these-"

"The exact hexcodes of your favorite shades of your favorite colors? Yes."

Spencer laughed. "Thank you, I love it."

"Did you know that in my entire lifetime, I've only ever seen you in an outfit without a button-up shirt two hundred and seventy-four times?" You asked.

"Okay, well, I happen to like all my button-up shirts," Spencer mused, looking down at his pajamas. "But I was not aware it was that little, no."

"Open your present." He took another bite of cake.

You reached forward and picked up your present. You opened it softly and carefully, in an attempt to not tear the pretty wrapping paper Spencer used.

Once you finally saw what it was a soft smile graced your face.

A Lego set related to your current favorite subject, with over a thousand pieces.

He'd also handwritten you a loving card.

You stood up and walked over to your dad and tightly hugged him from behind. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." He turned around to hug you back.

After you finished eating your cake, Spencer suggested watching that other movie a thirty-third time and you readily agreed.

You paused the movie twenty-nine minutes and twenty-four seconds in and looked over at your dad, getting unnecessarily close to him. "Do you want to go make hot chocolate?" you whispered.

He rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Yes."

You followed him to the kitchen and sat on the kitchen counter, going on a random tangent about a topic very vaguely mentioned in the movie you were watching.

Spencer added mini candy canes and marshmallows as well as whipped cream to your drinks.

You cozily continued your movie and rested your head on Spencer's shoulder.

"You make Christmas fun," you mumbled.

"Thank you," Spencer said genuinely, pulling you into a hug. "You make Christmas even more fun."

#spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #daughter!reader #criminal minds #fanfiction #allieslittlewritings ★#allieslittlechristmas 🎄#i would pay an absurd amount of money to see spencer tiredly smiling while wearing a santa hat #christmas #merry christmas to those who celebrate

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techs-goggles9902 · 10 months ago

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Hi. I read that you're in your Captain Rex phase, so for a request, how about he x F! Kix's assistant doctor where is her birthday and Hardcase, Fives and Jesse convince her to celebrate on 79s. She doesn't drink, so when she does this for the first time she ends up confessing her feelings for Rex to his brothers and at that moment he listens. Rex takes her home and takes care of her. And maybe when she's sober they can talk about it, and she finds out that Rex feels the same way about her. ♥️

I Like You - Rex/f!medic reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS. I WRITE FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS BTW

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of syringes (but not used, just thrown away)

Word count: 1544 (dialogue heavy)

A/N: sorry I took a few days! It took me a while to figure out how to write this since I’ve never drank or anything, so a lot of googling! I hope this is what you meant! I’d be happy to rewrite it if you’re not happy!!! ❤️

“Stitches!”

You turn at the call of your name. Well, nickname. Ever since the Republic needed more medics and you came into the 501st family, that’s been your name. The men gave each other names, and they saw fit to give you your own.

“Fives, hey. Did you need somethin’?” You ask as you pick up another discarded syringe from underneath a gurney. The last battle was brutal, with so many fatalities. So many men. Troopers. Friends. Brothers.

“What, I can’t just come and say hi to my favorite medic for no apparent reason?” He smirks. You give him a look.

He folds, “Fine. Well… ‘Case and Jesse told me it was your birthday. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to make a fu-”

“Don’t lie. I know how you and the other nat-borns avoid birthdays around us. It’s not like we’ll get offended, Stitch. It’s your birthday!” Fives grins and shakes your shoulders enough to make you smile back.

You give him that little shy smile of yours and his gaze softens from excited to empathetic.

“Can we take you out tonight? Not as a date, of course. You have someone in mind for that, don’t you, Stitch?” He waggles his eyebrows at you.

“Shhh! Shut up, we don’t talk about that…”

“Okay, fine. But, please, Stitch? Hardcase and Jesse would be devastated. You don’t want to crush their hearts, do you? Do you?”

“Oh, Fives, you… Fine! I can’t take your begging and pleading. You’re buying,” you say with a grin, walking away to discard the syringe. Fives follows you.

“We have a couple hours until we get home, so… Uh… Do what girls do,” he says.

“Okay, okay! Get out of here already, Maker…” You laugh as Fives hugs you from behind and runs out of the medbay before you can throw anything at him.

Why did I even say yes? I’ve never even touched alcohol and now I’m surrounded by it. I swear, if I’m dragged back to the barracks, I’m killing all three of those idiots.

“Stitch! Over here!” You’re called from a small booth in the back of 79’s. You’ve been to this bar a multitude of times over your two year career in the 501st, but you’ve ever had a drink here. You were, as Hardcase calls it, the designated driver.

You approach the booth, weaving between drunk troopers, their civilian dance partners, and server droids. Fives, Hardcase, and Jesse already had drinks in their hands as you slid in the booth next to Jesse.

“Finally made it. Ordered you a drink,” Hardcase says with his little grin.

“Too kind, good sir,” you retort, shoving Jesse to give you more room in the booth. He shoves back with a smirk.

The server droid quickly delivers your drink, a colorful cocktail with various sugary fruits on skewers balancing on the rim of the glass.

“How can you guys even afford this?” Your jaw goes slack at the sight of the drink.

“Bill it to the Republic!” Fives yells, raising his own glass in the air. Hardcase and Jesse reciprocate, thrusting their glasses in the air, spilling a bit of its contents on the table top.

“Sure, sure, yeah,” you giggle, slightly raising your glass so you don’t knock off the fruits.

It started with the cocktail. Then a few shots of Spotchka. Then some Corellian ale you’ve seen in holo-commercials. The four of you couldn’t even walk straight, but did it matter? It was your birthday and your first time experiencing the feeling of alcohol flowing through your veins.

The buzz kept you upright, kept you awake, kept you partying.

What if he was here… heh, we’d have fun… A lot of fun.

“So, who’s this mystery man we’ve had to hear so much about, Stitch?” Hardcase slurs.

“Oh my Maker… He’s. So. Fine. No, seriously, you don’t understand, ‘Case. And, he’s so nice…” you sigh dreamily.

“Oh, it’s me?” Jesse laughs.

“No… c’mere,” you beckon, the three clones leaning in with wide eyes. “It’s Rex.”

“Ha! I knew it! Stitch likes Rex!” Fives cackles, raising his empty glass in the air. Hardcase’s eyes go wide and he nudges Fives’ ribs with his elbow and points to something, or someone, behind you, in front of them.

“Wha… Oh. Hey, Captain… Didn’t know you were gonna be here…” Fives says, quickly lowering his arm, his face turning a deep scarlet.

Your breath stops halfway to your lungs, your blood running cold. Did he just say captain-

“Different Rex, of course. You know, that one dude… He’s uh… Over there somewhere…” Hardcase quickly says, pointing somewhere across the dimly lit bar. Fives and Jesse turn their attention there as well, all murmuring under their breath about the nonexistent other Rex.

“Okay, I think Stitch has had a bit too much to drink tonight. You’re obviously not getting home by yourselves anytime soon,” Rex says, curling his fingers around your upper arm and easing you to your feet.

“Rex, I, uh…”

“Stitch, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home, yeah? Let you sober up for the night,” Rex gently pulls you away from the booth, the drunk trio of clones still trying to point out the different Rex. None of them notice as Rex takes you out the backdoor.

“What’s your passcode?” Rex asks as he comes to a stop at the door of your apartment, ready to type in your code.

“7-5-6-7,” you recite, your cheeks burning a bright pink. Rex raises his brows with a little chuckle and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Let’s get something non-alcohol related into your system. You have water in the conservator?” He asks, gently pushing you onto a kitchen chair.

“Mmhmm.”

He finds a bottle of water and a ration pack, opens both, and places them in front of you.

“I want them both gone,” he firmly says as he slides in the seat across from you. He watches, making sure you eat and drink everything. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said-

“Thanks.”

Once the ration pack is eaten and the glass is empty, Rex cleans up, ordering you to the bedroom. You sit on the bed, not wanting to go and find your pajamas, not wanting to clean off your makeup.

“C’mere,” his soft voice coos. It’s music to your ears, the way his accent makes him pronounce the sounds just a tad differently.

He grabs a wipe from your adjacent bathroom and gently wipes away the cosmetic gunk you painted on your face. You just barely hear him whisper, “Don’t see why you need it. You’re beautiful without it.”

The words bring warmth to your chest, butterflies to your stomach, happy thoughts to the mushy thing between your ears. He called me beautiful…

He turns away as you change into just your undershirt, hiding the rest of your body beneath the covers of your bed.

“Ah ah! Not on the stomach or back. Your side, Stitch,” he says, turning around and pushing you onto your side, piling pillows to keep you in position.

“But what if I like sleeping on my tummy?” You ask, trying to roll over to face him. He sighs.

“And you think I’m a difficult patient?”

“But… What if I get uncomfy?”

“Hon, lie still, please.”

“Bu-”

“No.”

You pout, jutting out your bottom lip. Rex smiles. “You’re cute like this. Get some sleep, Stitch.”

He called me cute…

Waking up with a skull crushing headache made you rethink going out in the first place. The nausea hits you as you sit up, your head spinning. The Coruscant sun spills through your translucent curtains, illuminating your bedroom.

The sounds of passing speeders whirling past your windows are muted by the durasteel walls. Someone, a man, sits in the chair beside your window, his face is slowly revealed as the sun rises higher.

Rex… he stayed with me… Aw, he’s sleeping…

“Mmm… Finally ‘wake…” he says, his husky voice laced with sleep. His eyes crack open and his drowsy hazel irises look upon yours. “Feeling okay?”

“Did… Did you sleep there?”

“Mmhmm… I didn’t wanna intrude. It’s your bed,” he says, rubbing his eyes with his calloused hands. “But how do you feel?”

“Hungover, I guess.”

“First time?”

You nod. “About what I said last night…”

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize, okay? I… like you, as well, Stitch,” Rex says, coming over and sitting beside you on your bed, the mattress dipping beside you.

“I- What? You do?” Your eyes widen, everything that happened, every little thing he cooed in your ear the previous night, all of it comes back. He called you cute. Beautiful.

He nods, wringing his hands in his lap, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He turns slightly to face you, the two of you subconsciously leaning in. Your lips part as your eyes drift down to his own lips, his tongue quickly wetting them.

“I really like you, Stitch…” He murmurs as he leans in closer.

“I really like you, to-” You’re shut up by his lips pressing against yours.

Maybe I won’t kill the idiot trio, afterall…

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please lmk if you want to be added or taken off the taglist!

Dividers by @ saradika

#Sha speaks #the clone wars #star wars #clone troopers #tcw #captain rex #captain Rex x reader #captain Rex x you #star wars fan fiction #fan fiction

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buzzstarrr · 1 month ago

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𐙚 𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 ̶W̶i̶l̶l̶i̶a̶m̶s̶ 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜๋࣭ ⭑

tw: child abuse mention and gore (?)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

⋆ She was born in the 50s, would be around 60 years old nowadays.

⋆ Wasn't a little kid when she died, but was when everything started. Having said that, she experienced terrible things for years. :(

⋆ Doesn't spend a lot of her time in the manor and barely interacts with the kids.

⋆ Since she is from the 50s, she still acts like a 50s kid.

⋆ Even tho she's curious about what the kids like in modern days, she doesn't feel like she can fit in and doesn't feel like trying to.

⋆ Usually seen wandering throught the forest, either playing or talking to herself.

⋆ Heavily manipulated by Slenderman.

⋆ Keeps a great distance from people, mostly men; specifically Jeff. Does not trust him at all.

⋆ Can stand Natalie and tolerates Jane's presence.

⋆ Feels safe enough to open up to Natalie due to their similar trauma.

⋆ Sympathizes with Liu since both got betrayed by their own family.

⋆ Had to be forcefully tied in a "hospital" bed once. She was really injured and wouldn't let anyone touch her even tho they were just trying to help her. It has something to do with Slender's influence over her head.

⋆ Used to be a catholic because of her parents, now has a sorta of hate towards the concept of a God.

⋆ Still visits her own grave.

⋆ Holds grudge against her parents for having another kid, it makes her feel replaced.

⋆ Still wears the same nightgown she was wearing on her death.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

⋆ She has pale skin, long curly brown hair, green eyes and is slightly underweight

⋆ Wears a dirty and torn pink nightgown and dirty white lace socks in one foot, the other one is bare.

⋆ She is covered in bruises, cuts and scratches, as well as dry blood. There's dirt, old blood and leaves on her clothes, skin and hair. A part of her brain is partially exposed.

⋆ Carries her teddy bear all around, he's missing one eye. She changes his little bow tie in every opportunity she has.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

⋆ Has two best friends, their names were Amelia and Louisa.

⋆ Misses her friends and appreciates how they tried to help her despite their young age and low understading.

⋆ She loved to play pretend when she was alive and still does it nowadays.

⋆ Her pretty hair was always half tied with a pink ribbon

⋆ Was taught by her mother some basic things like baking pies and knitting. Having said that, she knows how to sew and can knit.

⋆ Her favorite movie was Alice in Wonderland.

⋆ Started loving Popeye the Sailor because of her dad's influence.

⋆ Her parents used to call her "sunshine"

⋆ She was friends with every kid in school and in neighborhood.

⋆ She had a lot of dolls and stuffed animals. She named all of them and stills remembers every single one.

⋆ Her favorite color is something between pink and purple.

⋆ Used to have tea party with her friends, mostly Amelia and Louise. They used to play gossip and talk about how much they wanted to grow up.

⋆ Used to wear her mom's perfume without permission. Her mom kept that one perfume for years.

⋆ Her parents had another kid on the year she would turn 17, they named him Robert in honor to what they thought Sally's teddy's name was.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ english is not my first language but i dont want it to be, so i apologize for any mistake!! :)

#sally williams #sally maryam williams #sally maryam dawn #sally williams creepypasta #sally williams headcanon #headcanon #creepypasta #slenderman #fandom #jeff the killer #jane the killer #natalie ouellette #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta hcs

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crash-and-cure · 2 years ago

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Wait for Me (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Tupelo’s favorite son is on his way home to all the expected pomp and circumstance befitting a returning King.

A/N: This is very much inspired by Hadestown and I may or may not blend all the character together so that both Elvis and reader have aspects from all of them. Technically I’m cheating I will admit by combining these two (-, -) requests into one story but I thought it would work well. Not me trying to Posit how WW2 affected the floriculture industry all for a fanfic. But this is apparently how I marry my two hyperfixations of 2022: Hadestown and Elvis. A+ to anyone that can find all the references to both Hadestown and the greek mythos in the story.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping. Kinda of a stochholme syndrome going on through the later half. Blood and a bit of child abuse depicted (arguably this child deserved it). Emotional Manipulation throughout. Isolation. Touch-starved reader. Innocent reader. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f. and m. recieving), vaginal fingering and handjobs. Outsider POV for the first bit. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Honeybee” and “Rosebud” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 21k (seriously somebody stop me)

My Masterlist

Dreams are sweet, Until they’re not

Men are kind, Until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, Until they rot, And fall apart

Flowers, Hadestown

Demi has never feared a single man in her life.

Men have done her wrong. Men have humiliated her. Men have even hurt her. But she does not fear them.

That’s how she lived for years, drifting from place to place, belonging to no one as no one belonged to her, unattached and untethered as the wind. Working odd jobs to get by until the next town, but there was a perpetual emptiness in this existence of hers that left her feeling hollow.

And then her sweet little daughter was born and she found something that bound her to this world fully. She knew who the father was, but none of that mattered to her, because her daughter was no man’s, she was hers. He wasn’t good for much, but getting roughly ten acres of land in exchange for never having to deal with either him or his wife again was one of the sweetest deals she had ever heard.

Living on a farm was never where she pictured herself ending up, let alone working and later inheriting a farm that only grew flowers, but Gail, the old caretaker of the land, was a literal godsend in those early days. Gail had that same look in her eyes as someone else who had been wronged by a man, and this kindred spirit would end up more or less adopting Demi as her own.

Her daughter is by far the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, born the first day of spring all balled up fists and shrill cries complete with a scrunched up face.

She was perfect.

Demi made a promise to that tiny creature that night, to never know hunger, to be surrounded by only the most beautiful things the world has to offer, to never be unloved for as long as she should live, and most importantly to never let the world hurt her the same way she was hurt. All of these rather lofty promises to make, but she was determined to keep them.

Those early days were painfully idyllic, caring for flowers, selling the cuttings, all the while her daughter was strapped to her chest. It admittedly did a number on her back, but it was all worth it to remind her what she works for. She doesn’t think there will ever be a day in which she forgets the first time her daughter's tiny hands reached out for a white rose, and just the utter serenity that overcame her in that moment. There is no doubt in her mind that this is where the both of them were meant to be.

As the years passed their little family grew as Demi collected other wayward women, some came and went, others stuck around so long her daughter started calling them her Aunties. Even a war happened a world away, and the farm had to shift focus to making food rather than beauty, but now three years later everything is close to being just as perfect as it was before.

But if there is one saying she wholeheartedly believes, it is that woman plans and man laughs.

Her daughter had been so upset that day and had ended up exhausting herself in Demi’s bed and she thanked whatever force up above for that when she woke in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling in her daughters room. Making sure that her daughter was still asleep she crept silently down the hall, baseball bat in hand, prepared to defend her family from whoever the hell was in her home.

Evidently nothing could have prepared her for what she would find in there, as she walked into her daughter's room and was met with the cornflower blue gaze of a familiar waifish thirteen year old boy.

When he had first started coming around, he was more like a stray cat whom her daughter fed once; annoyingly underfoot but manageable enough with a hose. But the more time he spent the more worried she became.

All of which the day before when she had idly asked her daughter what she did with the boy that day only for her sweet little daughter to innocently respond, “he told me not to tell you.”

Her friends tried to tell her it was puppy love and that it would eventually pass, and just to give it some time to fade. How intervening may just make it worse. But something in her gut told her that there was something about the way he looked at her daughter, the way he spoke to and about her, the way he acted, and that something was that it was all very wrong. If she had to liken it to anything, she imagines that this is the same way a hunter looks upon his mark.

It was beyond anything she’s ever seen in a grown man's eyes, so she never thought she could see something like that in a child's eyes.

Her daughter remained innocent to it, and slowly but surely Demi was trying to edge that boy out of their lives. Sent him home earlier and earlier, kept her from the shop and in the fields, even began to go out of her way to pick up her daughter rather than chance it with walking home by herself.

But now looking at the boy as he eagerly ransacked her daughter's dresser, did she realize she should have better listened to her instinct.

‘Oh hi Miss Demi,” he would say, as though he just wasn’t caught rifling through her daughters drawers. He was clutching tightly to a truly pathetic and haphazardly put together bouquet of flowers, that seemed to be dripping something from the stems. “Do you know where Y/N is? I just wanted to give these to her.”

It was only as she turned on the lights did she see the true horror to be had. Candy apple red, as though it could ever be that innocent, blood was dripping between his fingers and onto the wooden floors below, his face giving no indication that he even noticed, his eyes continually darting behind her as though waiting for someone from behind. The flowers in the chaotic bouquet tell a story of all kinds of love, but the one errant, still-thorned rose tells the story not of love, but of something else… something dark and unspeakable.

Demi acts immediately, grabbing him by the wrist and by the ear and getting him the hell out of her house. For all his protests and attempts to escape her grip, he was no match for the fury of a mother, and with the ruckus the boy is stirring up she silently thanks god that her daughter is such a deep sleeper.

It hurts her having to leave her daughter home alone, but she knows that her daughter's biggest threat is in her grasp.

She’s had to drop the boy off enough times to remember where he lived and she knows his mother well enough to instinctively know she is no doubt up worrying over him. She was proven right seeing the light bleeding through the front windows of the small home.

He is out of the truck before Demi can even fully park it, and he bolts to the door, probably hoping that she will then be forced to leave without talking to his mother about this whole thing. But he is stopped as said woman flies out of the house and catches him in a massive bear hug on the small porch.

He has parents who care for him so much, yet he still acts like this? She wonders to herself. She sees the woman giving her son once over before coming across his wounded hand that had by now begun to congeal and stop bleeding.

“If you know what’s good for him, you’ll make sure he stays the hell away from my property and I best never see you sniffin’ around my child again, boy,” Demi would say, voice ice cold interrupting this warm reunion, pointing a single finger in this boy's face.

“Demi, what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” his mother would ask, already putting him behind her back, willing to defend him with her life apparently.

Wouldn’t you do the same, a small part of her says.

“Y’know I expected more from you,” Demi said to her fellow mother. “I never would’ve expected you to be the type to raise a boy that would break into a little girls room and go through her drawers. The hell were you even tryin’ to find in there?”

He wouldn’t answer her, but he would look her dead in the eye, with a look that told her he was unrepentant about his actions. Though that mask would crack the slightest bit as his mother took his face in her hands.

“Bewbie… is this true?” the woman would ask her son slowly, unwilling to believe. But his downturned eyes do all the necessary talking.

“Mama she’s crazy,” that little shit would say, trying to deflect, and cowering behind his mothers skirts. “We can’t leave Honeybee with her.”

“I oughta knock all your fuckin’ teeth out for whatchu did. See how good a singer you are then,” she threatens, though that hardly helps her case. But she was willing to do a lot worse if it meant keeping her daughter safe.

“Don’tcha see Mama?” he says, gesturing a hand her way. “She ain’t safe with Miss Demi, and we gotta take her with us.” It’s not so much his words that are disturbing, but the complete and utter conviction that he speaks nothing but the truth that has the hair on the back of Demi’s neck stand up.

That boy’s lucky that his father decided to make his way out there and prevent Demi from making good on her threat.

“Buntyn, go inside,” she would firmly say to her son. He looks as though he were about to protest, until she shoots a look and he backs down, and walks back into his home. His mother takes a moment to process her words, though nothing she says has a chance in hell of quelling the fury in Demi’s heart. “I-I think he’s just actin’ out because we’re gonna to be movin’ soon,” she tries to weakly justify.

“I don’t fuckin’ care what his excuses are, Gladys. Keep a leash on that boy o’ yours if you gotta,” Demi seethes, catching said boy looking out at them from the window. She makes eye contact with him, fully knowing he would hear this next part, “Because I ain’t goin’ to be so nice next time.”

Demi turned around with that threat still hanging in the air and hoped to never see any of them again. It’s a long quiet drive from there, and her fury reaches a near boiling point finding that damned bouquet on the floor, forgotten in all the ruckus, to which she quickly chucks them into the furnace. It feels wrong to burn her own livelihood, but these flowers were now in her eyes tainted and unfit to ever be seen again.

The fury doesn’t fully melt away until she sees the love of her life sitting up from her bed.

“Mama where’d ya go?” you would ask, your tiny fists rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you let out an almost angelic yawn. You are and always will be her baby, and nothing will ever take you away from her.

“Just a stray dog sniffin’ round the house, Rosebud,” Demi would say, lightly scratching her nails down your back, the same way she’s done since you were a newborn. “But don’tchu worry baby, your mama scared it off. Go back to sleep.”

Demi sleeps well that night if only due to the fact that she was able to convince herself (albeit temporarily) that that had all been a bad dream. But once she saw the trail of crimson starting from your bedroom window, there is no denying what had happened the night before. She didn’t get this far by trusting other people's words, so for the next few days the two of you slept in a different room each night. Demi calls it camping and you, her sweet little girl, are all too willing to believe her. She sleeps with one eye open those nights, all too afraid that even dropping her watch for half a second will lead to disaster.

She would find no peace until she heard around town that they had moved somewhere up north. To where? She didn't care so long as he was as far away from her precious Rosebud as could be. Still she is always worried as to the day he may come back, so she can only pray that he’s moved on to another poor girl and leaves you the hell alone.

Part of her wonders if she should warn you in case he ever returns, but this question answers itself when you come home from school wanting to show her how many ladybugs you caught in the schoolyard today. She didn’t want to burden you with this awful knowledge, wanting to keep you innocent from your mothers woes.

Demi wanted to shield you from the world, and hoped that one day, you would also get to live without fearing men. It would take her nine years to realize, by then far too late, that you only lacked fear because you didn’t know what men were capable of.

Demi fears no man.

But she does fear Elvis Presley.

—------------------------------------

Flowers have always been the family business. Fields upon fields of every color in the rainbow going on for acres. Truly even having lived here for years and knowing little to nothing else but this, it still never fails to take your breath away.

To say your family knows flowers, is an understatement. You had spent your days running around the property asking your aunties about the flowers they tended to, and what each of them meant.

You learned from an early age that flowers were always meant to invoke good feelings in people, and it makes you proud that you’re a part of it. So you’re excited to say the least when your Mama surprises you with your very own gardening kit for Christmas.

It’s a rite of passage for those in your family to successfully grow and maintain their own plot of flowers for the first time. You had been given the choice of any flower you wanted to take on, most of them pointing to some of these easiest ones for your first time, the ones that you need only plant and water regularly to eventually bloom. You on the other hand wanted to do something harder. So you chose roses due to both the challenge it takes into growing and maintaining them but also the fact that your farm had them in abundance, so it wouldn’t hit the business too hard if you failed.

But moreover, Mama had always called you her little Rosebud, so it only felt fitting to have these be the first flowers you grow all on your own. These blooms were rather picky about conditions, but you had been watching the women in your family grow them since before you could walk, and so you felt you were up to the task. You were only nine but you wanted to show the rest of them how good you could do on your own.

So you watched the seeds germinate, watched them grow into tiny sprouts in their small pots, planted them neatly apart, gave them plenty of sun, and never forgot to water them. Mama even caught you once or twice hovering over those little pots not wanting to miss a single moment of their growth.

She warned you to temper your expectations, how sometimes you can do everything right, and they still may not grow. But you were full of hope and wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything in your few years of life.

You had taken this seriously, hanging on to every tip you got from your Aunties, being sure to tend to them at the correct times, giving the correct amount of water and watching like a hawk for any unwanted pests. Each day you got the pleasure of watching them grow into buds and you figured they were close to blooming any day.

And that’s why you took great offense when you found a gangly tow-headed boy picking at the red roses you had worked so hard to grow.

He looked to be older than you by a few years, stood a foot taller than you, but you knew boys like him, the type that would stomp out dandelions to make you cry and you weren’t about to let him ruin your hard work with your first batch of rose bushes. You may be 9 but you’re scrappy as all get out, which you prove when you drop your basket of fresh cuttings of the day and all but tackle the larger boy into the dirt.

He gives an undignified shriek as he hits the ground, having been caught off guard, but he does attempt to shove you off until he goes a bit limp upon getting a good look at you. The brief scuffle ends with you straddling him and your little palms pinning his arms down as best as you could as owlish, cornflower blue eyes stared up at you in equal amounts of awe and fear.

“What’re you doin’ here?” you say your little voice indignant at what you thought were his attempts to sabotage your efforts. “Why were tryin’ to kill those roses?”

“I-I-I wa-wasn’t,” he insists, his cheeks burning from the shame of being caught doing whatever he was doing and his hands shaking something fierce as he limply tries to hide his face from you as you clench a tiny fist above you. You see that the briars got him good and little droplets of blood were beading up on some fine scratches on his hands.

If he was trying to wreck the bushes you doubt he would try to do so in such a stupid way, but that didn’t mean you trusted him quite yet. However you weren’t about to let him continue being hurt in your presence, so you stood up and grabbed the band-aids that were in your little kit, and helped clean him up.

“I-It-ts m-my mama’s birthday to-tomorrow, an-and I wanted to get her so-somethin’ nice this year,” he said after a while, solemnly looking at his bandaged hand.

You softened at his words, not having expected his answer, but you can hardly fault him for his reasoning. Afterall you don’t know where you or your mama would be if there weren’t thoughtful people that gave flowers to those they loved.

But you do know how much work it takes to grow them, and maintaining your irritation at his mucking about, you indignantly say “You coulda went to our shop and bought them.”

He goes an even deeper shade of red with your statement, “I-I know it’s wrong to steal, an-and I never woulda done this i-if I had the money to buy ‘em.”

It feels like all of the animosity you have towards him leaves your body at that moment. You and Mama have had your hard times before, and you are very much aware that each flower in your family’s field is worth something. It’s what keeps everyone fed, what keeps the lights on, and puts the clothes on your backs, but even knowing that you have one simple belief; everyone deserves nice flowers.

“Well,” you say to him as you stand up. “You picked the wrong color. You ain’t supposed to give red roses to your mama.”

“Really?”

“If you know anything about the language of flowers, you’d know that you’re only supposed to give ‘em to your wife or girlfriend.”

“...Flowers talk to each other?”

“No, they…” you pause trying to figure out a way to best explain yourself. “Their colors and the types are supposed to tell people how you feel about ‘em.” He draws his brows together, thoroughly confused as to what you’re saying, though that ain’t surprising. Mama often complained that when Men buy flowers, they never think too much beyond price, and boys rarely if ever appreciate them.

You decide that it may do him better, to see it rather than trying to explain it fully. So you take his bandaged hand and you walk him through some of the crops. From the outside, the fields look to be a chaotic mess of colors, when in reality there is a lot more thought put into it as your mother organizes by type rather than color. You are able to give him a run down as to rose color meanings, until you finally arrive at your intended destination.

He goes a little wide-eyed once you take out your gardening shears, but quickly relaxes once you go behind him to the bushel of pink roses. You’ve been cutting and dethorning roses for about a year or two now, so it takes not even a minute to find one in good condition, grab it, cut it, proceed to have it stripped of all its thorns, and casually present it to the blonde boy before you.

You thought he was red before, but as you presented him that rose, he turned redder than the rose he had attempted to pluck. His bandaged hand shakily takes the flower out of your hand, and with a reverence you’ve never seen from a boy when it comes to flowers, he holds it gently with both.

“Pink means gratitude and admiration.”

“What?” his lip still quivering slightly and eyes glassy.

“When you give someone a pink rose,” you explain to him, with a smile. “You’re letting them know that you’re grateful for all they’ve done for you and that you admire them very much for it. It’s the perfect flower to give to your Mama,” you say, giving him a small smile, the look he’s giving you making you feel warm inside.

“Rosebud?” you hear from behind you, and all the warm feelings seem to die in that instant.

“H-hi mama,” you say nervously, whipping around, standing on your toes, as though you’ll somehow be able to hide this trespasser's taller frame behind you. Though you realize how stupid that idea is and quickly take her hand, “Mama come look at my roses, I think they’re gonna bloom today,” you say, trying desperately to turn her around as though she’ll forget she ever saw that boy.

“In a minute Rosebud,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet, that you know by now means she’s mad. “But first, why don’tcha introduce me to your little friend here.”

“...yes Mama, this is… my friend…,” you go wide-eyed realizing you don’t even know this boy's name.

Luckily he picks up on your pause, “Hello, ma-ma’am, my name is uuhh… Elvis… Presley.”

Your mama slowly leans forward until she’s eye level with him, “Well, Elvis Presley,” she drawls slowly, her words friendly, yet the way they’re delivered tells you her feelings for this boy are anything but. “You mind tellin’ me why the hell you’re on my property, botherin’ my daughter, and plucking out my livelihood?”

Elvis looks down realizing that he was still holding the pink rose for all to see, and makes a futile attempt to hide it, only for his skinny wrist to be caught in your mothers iron like grip.

Mama had that way about her, her smile could be warm but her words icy. You’ve seen her like this with the few men that had come through here. Some trying to buy the land, some trying to find one of your Aunties, all of them leaving empty-handed because of her.

But you don’t believe that the boy before you, the one that wanted to get his mama something nice for her birthday, could ever be like those bad men. So you decided to do what needs to be done, “I invited him over Mama,” you say looking down at your muddy boots.

“Rosebud you ain’t gotta lie for him,” she admonishes, though she does seem to loosen her grip on him.

“Bu-but it’s the truth Mama. He’s been sayin’ how he needs a gift for his mama’s birthday, so I said he could come over here to get her a flower,” you mumble, knowing that this is something she always told you never to do.

She takes a long hard sigh before she fully releases Elvis, “You best get yourself home before it gets dark.” she says, her warning punctuated with a very cold breeze, despite it being well into April. He swallows nervously as he makes his way to the road, giving one last sorrowful glance your way before leaving.

“Rosebud,” your mama sighs, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Sometimes you’re too sweet for your own good, and I don’t ever want to see someone take advantage of that.”

“Ok Mama.”

When he left that day you fully expected to never see him again, until he showed up the very next day wanting to show you his guitar.

After that, Elvis becomes a near constant presence at your farm. Your aunties thought he was nice enough, pinching his cheeks and plying him with snacks in exchange for having him sing for them. You don’t mind too much, as you don’t really have too many friends, and next to none that want to spend their evenings on your farm. You kind of enjoyed having him around, he would sometimes bring a guitar and sing to you, or read his comics to you. Other times he would follow you around as you did your chores and ask about the flowers.

You got used to him being around and even grew to enjoy it. One special day you even decided to share your most valued treasure with him: your favorite fruit in the whole world. One so good yet so expensive and rare in these parts that it’s limited to a once a year treat for you.

“An onion?” he asks skeptically.

“No,” you insist, slightly huffy that he’s not appreciating your most prized possession. “It’s called a Pomegranate,” you tell him, taking it out of his hands so that you could cut into it the way your Mama showed you. “I know when you first look at it, it doesn't look like much,” you say, as you cut at the crown. “But when you really look at it, you’ll find something truly amazing,” you conclude, and with a twist of your wrist you take the top off to reveal an abundance of the small jewel looking seeds, where you see him looking at it in nothing less than utter amazement.

That look in his eyes only grows when he actually tastes the little kernels for the first time, and he ravenously devours his half of the fruit, some of the juices overflowing out the corners of his mouth, and down his face.

You on the other hand savor each and every bite of it. You truly believe if perfection can be found, it would be in that late summer afternoon. The soft sunbeams creeping through from the shade and the perfume of the freshly cut flowers in your basket. The soft breeze that runs through your hair and causes the flowers in the fields to sway slightly as though they were dancing to the music flowing from your friends' beaten up guitar.

“What’d ya’ dream about doin’?” he would ask as he gazed up at the clouds overhead, idly strumming his guitar, his lips and fingertips stained red.

“What do you mean Elvis?” You would ask as you pick at the very last seeds on your rind.

“I-I mean wh-what’d ya wanna do when you grow up, Honeybee?,” he asks nervously, eyes firmly on the fields as though he were afraid of your answer. You roll your eyes slightly at his nickname for you, stemming from the time a bee landed on your hand and rather than swatting it away, you gently blew on it to get it to fly away. But you do decide to humor him anyway.

“Oh…This.”

“Really?” he asks, truly baffled at your answer. “You really don’t wanna go nowhere or-or do somethin’ else?”

“Why would I wanna do anything else?,” you ask in turn, confused at his confusion. “It’s like magic when really think ‘bout it,” you insist, showing him the last few kernels of the pomegranate you have in your hand. “Something so small can turn into something so beautiful.”

“You could plant ‘em anywhere, couldn’t you?” he insists.

You shrug your shoulders at that. “I guess.”

“But what if you couldn’t stay here,” he asks, his tone mournful, but you didn’t pick up on it at the time. “Wha-what if you had to go far away and y-you couldn’t come back?”

“Then I would make a new home,” you dismiss, offering him the last six seeds of your Pomegranate. He looks so surprised by the offer, his eyes a bit glassy before he furiously rubs them with the back of his hand and accepts your offer.

“Honeybee… co-could you meet me b-by your roses tomorrow,” he stutters. “I-i got something’ important to give ya’.”

“Ok.”

“Bu-but don’t tell your mama,” he says to you.

That may be a tall order, you thought at the time. Your mama on the other hand remains coolly indifferent to him, but you always got the sense that she didn’t like him for whatever reason. Nonetheless a promise is a promise.

Mama was probably at her happiest when he stopped coming around. When you learned he moved away, you were sad that your friend would leave without saying a proper goodbye, and you believed you would never see that dreamer boy again.

So imagine your surprise when a few years later an electric, new singer starts making waves across the south. He tried to steal flowers from your farm and now he steals hearts across the country.

Just about every girl in town, if given the chance, will brag how they had known him way back when, some of the more daring ones even claiming to have been his first kiss. As far as what you have heard Elvis may be the only man alive to have had 25 first kisses. The boys were no better, all claiming to have been his closest buddy growing up, and promising any girl that they could definitely meet back up with him if they chose.

Everyone is in an absolute tizzy for his return to Tupelo, you are simply trying to help your family through the rush of orders that has come in with the upcoming fair. Mostly it had been a headache because the new Miss Tupelo had demanded that her float be decorated with only white roses, as she didn’t think the standard red was flattering for her.

Which is fine until your shop is presented with a very special order from the mayor himself for an order of three dozen of your finest roses to be given to Tupelo’s favorite returning son for his homecoming concert.

Mama had initially treated it like any other order, until she saw who it was from.

“Absolutely not,” she said in her sternest voice, you hear from around the corner.

“Demi,” your Auntie Kate would admonish her. “Don’t be stupid ‘bout this. It’s been years and he was just a dumb kid back then.”

You don’t know what the mayor did to your Mama, but it had to have been bad, if he got her this worked up. Of course you’re not about to ask, as they had both pointedly left the room to discuss the matter while you were supposed to be minding the store. Instead you were very intently listening in to whether or not your mother was about to refuse an order for seemingly the first time in years.

“Kate, I ain’t takin’ any chances with this,” Mama declares. “You weren’t there, but if you’re ever gonna trust me on anything, let it be this.”

“Look Demi,” Kate sighs. “He’s willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money for them, and we need to offload some of the roses and it ain’t like he’s gonna-”

She’s interrupted by the bell signaling a customer having entered the shop. By the time you finish with him though, Mama has agreed, albeit reluctantly, to accept the order, under the condition the Kate be responsible for it in its totality

You don’t know what Kate had said to her but you’re glad nonetheless as she would claim once your mama was out of earshot that she was too busy to do this order so she asked if you would please be so kind as to take care of it for her.

Those weeks leading up to the fair, someone had asked Elvis if he was looking forward to reconnecting with anyone special back in Tupelo. As the reporter described it, the young star would look down bashfully at his feet, one side of his mouth curving upwards with only the slightest hint of red on his ears as he proclaimed yes to this humble reporter. “My sweetheart from way back in the day. I lost touch with her when I moved up to Memphis and I am praying every night that I find her this time around.”

If him simply coming back for a day to perform sent girls into a frenzy, the prospect of him coming back to find his supposed childhood love, just about turned everybody hysterical. Reporters from all over had flooded the town and had been skulking around trying to find this mysterious girl that had a hold on one of the biggest rising stars. Even once or twice coming into the shop and asking if you’ve received any calls from Memphis asking to send flowers to a specific girl in town.

Many girls were claiming to be the one Elvis is in fact looking for, recounting their memories of a sweet boy who only had eyes for them. They all followed the same general beats of being in the same class, he was embarrassingly smitten with them, and they rejected him. You had been in different grades and didn’t really know him outside of when he would visit your farm seemingly everyday, so you could hardly attest as to whether or not any of this was true. You do however remember him cryptically referring to one specific girl that had his heart, though in not so many words.

In the days leading up to the last time you would see him, he became very interested in the flowers for romance. He didn’t say that he was planning to do so, but you could tell he was gearing up to declare his love for that girl he never named. Your first suggestion is, of course, whatever her favorite flower is.

He would blanche a bit at that, “She-she loves em all,” he would mumble looking away bashfully and facing the vibrantly colored fields. According to your mama this is man's speak for “I don’t know.” With few exceptions, nobody is without a favorite, and you sigh slightly disappointed in him that he’s apparently ready to declare undying affection for a girl and he didn’t even know that basic but important information about the girl. But you did promise him your help so you gave him some suggestions: Lilacs for new love, Gardenias for secret love, Carnations for deep love, Tulips for perfect love, Forget-Me-Nots for true love, and of course Red Roses for passionate love.

On that day you would find him nervously pacing in front of your first batch of roses. They were now in full bloom and you sadly recognized that you’re going to have to cut them soon. You know that’s the beast of this business, that in order to bring new life in, the old must make way, but it’s only a cold comfort and you hope that whoever they end up with will appreciate their beauty.

He practically stared you down as you walked down the row between rose bushes, but he seems to be shaking as though his knees were liable to give out at any moment, and the closer you got to him, you saw that his chest was practically heaving. You can see as he holds something behind his back and you blatantly try to look to see what it is, only to be stopped as he places one hand on your shoulder.

“What’d you wanna talk about Elvis?” you ask him, slightly worried he may be having a heat stroke.

He swallows thickly before he finally answers you, “M-my folks and I are gonna be goin’ up North,” his eyes downcast as though he were ashamed to admit this, one hand still hidden behind his back.

“Oh, when are you coming back?” you say oblivious to his grief.

He’s taken by surprise at your question, but he does answer with a simple “I don’t know.” But with that he squares his shoulders and through trembling lips he stutters, “Honeybee… I-I-I want ya’ to c-come wi-with us.”

“Ok.” you say, completely ignorant as to the true meaning of his words.

“Really?” his face breaking into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Yeah,” you say simply. You remember vividly that you were going to say something to the effect of needing to be back home before dinner because Auntie Erin was gonna be making her famous Golden Apple Pie, when you all of a sudden felt your lips being occupied.

You laugh at your reaction to a simple kiss on the lips now, but at the time, it had felt like the end of the world to you. After all, you were so sure that this was how babies were made.

When you had asked where babies came from, Mama nervously answered you with this story: Your Daddy kissed your mama out in front of the red roses, and their love would cause a new bud to bloom where they would find you sleeping in a rosebud.

Back then you didn’t know any better, all you did know was that you didn’t want to take care of a baby right now. You wanted to grow Azaleas next, and Mama warned you that that would be a big commitment to make. And Elvis was going to be moving away, so who was going to take care of the baby?

You were confused and frustrated beyond anything you’ve experienced up to that point, and you did what any overwhelmed 9 year old would do.

You started bawling your eyes out, pushed him down, and ran back home.

Mama would later comfort you and reassure you no baby was on it’s way. She corrected her story and told you that in fact, the couple must be married in order for a baby to be made. (She never did go into further detail as to the process, so you assumed that was the only necessary detail)

The next day, you had felt bad and wanted to apologize to Elvis for the confusion and for pushing him down yet again. You even had a sprig of Lily of the Valley ready as a peace offering and everything, but you wouldn’t see him the next day. Nor the day after that.

You wouldn’t hear about him until about a couple months back when you had been dethorning the roses while listening to the radio. You vividly remember the surprise that came over you the moment the DJ announced the artist behind the song. How could you not? Afterall it marks the first time in years that a rose had been able to draw blood from you, because in your surprise, hearing the name of a ghost from your past, your ungloved fingers met with a thorn perfectly.

There was no doubt in your mind that it was him not just for the very distinct name, but for that song specifically. You remember him singing it while you were in the fields, saying he had heard it from Big Boy Crudup himself.

For maybe half a second you entertain the thought that you may be the mystery sweetheart of his, but just as quickly you dismiss it as the way he describes it as being a long lost love tragically torn apart by fate. You on the other hand pushed him down and cried your eyes out when he kissed you once before never seeing him again, hardly the type of romance worth reading about.

And like a blink of an eye the fair day arrived.

You had been expressly forbidden from going to the fair, your mother giving no real reason beyond “because I said so.” This in turn makes you feel less guilty about your little scheme, as she did not forbid you from choosing that day to be the day you work in the shop.

Men are funny creatures, you realize as you work on the order the morning of. Whoever put in the order made sure to specify that the roses must be fresh yet somehow neglected to mention the preferred color.

You opted for red ones in the end as you have those in abundance and you figure they probably wouldn’t look too closely into the meaning beyond it being the classic rose color. But you do slip in a pink rose in the mix, remembering the first flower you had ever given him.

It’s a big order to fill, which you only realize once you're carrying a comically large bouquet into the backstage area of the fairgrounds. It was a bit of a hassle making it there in the first place as evidently you’re not the first young woman insisting you’re allowed to be backstage. Though none of them had the mayor himself vouching for the order and letting you in.

He was already walking up on to the stage by the time you get there, and all you really see of him is the back of his head. Without knowing what you did, you would be hard-pressed to find any similarities between the man on stage and the boy who had to sing facing away from you lest he get too anxious.

But when he was presented with the key to the city, did you finally see hints of that boy from your memories. The way he kept shifting nervously from foot to foot, how he kept stuffing his hands in his pockets only to take them out, his eyes flickering back and forth between the crowd and the mayor. All of it reminding you of the endearing, stuttering boy who nervously asked you what each flower in your field meant.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move like that before, so jerky and sudden, but also so very fluid when he wanted to be. Oddly enough you’re reminded of snake charming, with that vicarious thrill of watching something that looks so dangerous, but you also can’t look away from. But that begs the question: is he the snake or is he the charmer?

It’s hard to say, especially when he shifted gears to slower, less rowdy songs.

And then one day

I had my love as perfect as could be

She lived, she loved, she laughed, she cried

And it was all for me

There was a bit of a tremble in his voice as he crooned those words out to the crowd, as though he were close to tears himself. It’s here you think you truly find that boy that used to bug you when you were out in the fields.

It felt like all too soon the concert was over and he was stepping behind the stage. What feels like half a million eyes are focused on him as he steps off the stage to where he was met with just as many cameras and questions thrown his way. You almost feel bad for him, that he wasn’t even given a chance to breathe between one stage to another.

His eyes scanned the crowd that gathered around him, but eventually his eyes would settle on the ridiculously large bouquet right next to you. It’s hard to miss, you think, looking at it, but when you look back at him you find that his eyes are firmly set on you and you feel your heart skip a beat.

He’s probably trying to figure out where he knows you from, you figure. It’s been years, you yourself had long ago forgotten about him, but hearing his name on the radio for the first time dredged up all of those memories.

You can hardly blame him though the both of you have changed a lot in the almost ten years since you’d last seen each other and he doesn’t have the benefit of a famous name or your face on TV to jog his memory.

Even still some part of yourself wishes he does remember and you walk towards him with more a skip in your step than ever. But you find your path thwarted by an unwelcome familiar face.

Mindy, whom you’ve known since grade school, when her and her Mama lived on the farm with you until her mama married a new man. You used to be the best of friends but when she moved out she seemed to want to distance herself from you and did so by criticizing everything you did.

Most people would be hard-pressed to name anything she does like, but ask her about the things she hates and she can go on for hours. And of all the things she hates, you think you rank somewhere near the top, given how much she used to talk about you to anyone who would listen. Everything about you was apparently a personal offense to her, with her latest insult being that you apparently had a bunch of cats on your farm, hence your latest and most confusing nickname of “the Cathouse girl.” Though by far her most egregious thing she's ever said was that one day you were going to suffocate from your Mama’s apron strings, and it felt all the worse that you couldn’t even go to her about it lest you prove her point.

She now proudly wears her Miss Tupelo sash over seafoam green dress as she attempts to lift the bouquet out of your hands with a cloyingly sweet, “I’ll take that off your hands hon.”

You move to protest this, but apparently your day has just gone from bad to worse, as you feel a familiar iron-like grip on your arm. “Rosebud, it’s time for us to leave.” You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“But Mama-”

“Yeah Y/N, thought all you did was listen to your Mama,” Mindy interrupts you as she finally wrenches the bouquet out of your hands.

“It’s time to go home, Y/N,” your mother says severely, her grip on your elbow unyielding. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, having never felt so small under your mothers gaze, but you don’t argue with her and allow yourself to be pulled away, lest a bigger scene be caused.

Mindy, idly pops her spearmint gum with the most triumphant of smiles, sparing you a simple dismissive twiddle of her fingers before spinning around to present your hard work to your old friend. If there’s one thing you can be glad about in that moment, is that exactly zero other eyes were on you as you conceded to your mother like a scolded child and let her lead you out of the fairgrounds.

Little did you realize at the time, someone was watching.

You get into the truck and sit your fists clenching in anger on your knees, ashamed at what transpired just now.

“Rosebud…” she starts, and you petulantly turn your entire body to face the window with your back to her. “Honey I know you think I go overboard with these things, but you gotta trust your mama here when I say that it’s all for your own good.”

Your nails dig into the meat of your palms, so hard you worry it may draw blood, but a part of you welcomes that. Maybe then she will understand how upset you are with her. She still treats you like a child after all these years, protecting you from some nebulous threat that is both ever present yet somehow not important enough to give a name.

You feel suffocated, unable to defend yourself from insults that you aren’t allowed to fully understand.

These feelings would only double when you would see the next day's newspaper, where an enlarged picture of Elvis and Mindy on the ferris wheel would take up most of the front page. Well there’s your answer as to who this mystery girl is, you think bitterly.

Sweethearts reunited at last, the headline reads.

Though all your anger and fury would end up manifesting into nothing when the real world decided to remind you what was important in life. About a week after the fair, your home would receive a late night visit from the sheriff informing you of tragedy.

It didn’t feel real seeing what was once a colorful store teeming with life and love to now be reduced to a smoldering, skeletal pile of ash. You had been there not even a day ago and now it was gone. The police don’t suspect foul play but they weren’t ruling it out, and as you would learn, the little insurance mama did have on the shop didn’t cover fires unless it could be proven beyond a doubt that it was accidental. So suffice it to say, your family is on its own in terms of getting the store back up and running.

Typically late fall is for drying out maybe a quarter of the left over supply of flowers, storing the rest into the cold storage below the shop, winterizing the bushels for the next season, and shifting focus to seeding and growing the more popular flowers in the greenhouses, but the fire had thrown the ultimate wrench into the plans. A good chunk of the cut flowers had been kept on display at the front of the shop or beneath it in cold storage, and so with them went much of the value in the business.

Your mama is stressed beyond anything you’ve ever seen, but what makes it worse is that she refuses to burden you with the knowledge of your financial situation. Which in turn stresses you out even more about the financial situation she didn’t want you to know about.

About a month after the fire Mama had gone to the bank in an effort to get a business loan so that she could rent a new place, while the others were in town trying to strike up partnerships with other stores on the same street and convince them to buy and sell your flowers. It wasn’t the greatest of plans but it was the only one you were left with so that you may hobble through this year into the next.

They could sell the flowers off to shops in nearby towns, but even selling the rest of the supply wholesale will hardly breakeven for this year leaving you with nothing saved come next season. And even then that’s only if everybody refuses payment for the work they did, which they did offer, but your Mama was having none of it.

Even setting up a stand on your property and selling from there wasn’t an option, as you’re located way too far out from town too hope for those driving by to stop and buy flowers off of you.

You find yourself on one of the rare days in which you’re home alone, as you sit on the porch gazing out at the fields nearly devoid of all flora now. If your mother can’t convince the bank for a loan then all that your family has ever grown will rot, the land sold, and the strange tribe of women that had been collected under this roof would be left adrift. Beauty will give way over to necessity, as these bankers are under the false assumption that people don’t need flowers.

But how can you begrudge the necessity of food at a time like this when your kitchen is looking pathetically sparse these days. You wouldn’t mind too much if you didn’t know that it was a prelude to no food at all.

It didn’t feel right that this would be the end of the farm, your Nana Gail took the dusty lands her deadbeat of a husband left her with and turned it into something beautiful. She passed it on to your Mama, a relative stranger she took in the both of you when your daddy was sent away to die an ocean away.

The farm had survived two world wars and yet it would be a fire that would cause all that the women of your family had built to crumble.

You shake your head furiously at the thought. Don’t let these bad thoughts get to you, you think to yourself. You're truly afraid of where these thoughts may lead you if you let them fester so instead you decide that the kitchen would benefit from some cheery flowers to brighten up the place.

The house is in desperate need of that these days.

But as you were in the dirt to pick Daffodils, you realize you weren’t as alone as you thought, as in the distance you see some dust being kicked up. Your heart jumps for joy thinking that it was your mother, bearing good news, until you get to the dirt road and the unfamiliar black car drives past you.

Making your way home you can see a tall figure step out of the shiny car, dressed all in black. As they turn to look at the house, they strike an unsettlingly familiar silhouette but it still takes you a second to recognize him, even if it was not even a month ago when you saw him last.

Maybe it’s because, in your head, he’s still that gangly tow-headed boy, not this tall dark man in black that stands before you.

“Elvis?”

A devastating grin spreads across his face as he spreads his arms out in a clear invitation for a hug. “Been a long time, Honeybee.”

You don’t know the etiquette as to how to greet someone you haven’t talked to in years, but also whom you’ve seen in passing a few days ago. But you graciously accept the hug and kiss on the cheek he gives you, so you in turn invite him into your home, unsure what else to do in the face of his casual familiarity.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, grabbing a basket from the back seat. “But I brought you a lil’ gift.” Your eyes widen and your mouth instantly starts to water at the plentiful bounty within, as no less than a dozen Pomegranates filled that ornate basket. The fact that he brought such a thing, seemingly on a whim, spoke volumes as to how well the music business was treating him more than any sparkling jewel or shiny car could.

“Can I offer you some water or…” you trail off as you put the daffodils in a vase, hoping he accepts, and you won’t have to suffer the embarrassment of having so little to offer such a man.

“If you could be a doll actually,” he says, plucking one of the sweet fruits. “Why don’tcha pop one a these open for old times sake.” You’re silently grateful he asked as you doubt it would have been too long before your empty stomach was demanding for one. “I still remember when you gave me one for the first time.” he idly remarks as you start to cut into it.

You smile at that shared memory between the two of you, though a sorrowful ache settles in your stomach as those days seem so far away now. You gather a few errant seeds from the cutting board and you can’t help the small moan that comes from you, as you had resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be having any this year.

With the plate in hand you turn around to find your guest frozen in his sweet, before quickly gathering himself as you approach.

“So what brings you back to these ol’ parts,” you ask, placing the plate between you two.

He pops a few seeds off of the ridge, and into his mouth, “Well I came back here because a certain someone left my show before I could even say hello to her.”

You look down slightly embarrassed but a little ecstatic that he realized your absence, “Sorry ‘bout that, we get super busy around this time and couldn’t stick around too long.”

“I get it,” he answers amiably. “It looked like you and your mama had somewhere to be.”

You cringe and look down humiliated that, of all the things he could’ve seen that day, he saw perhaps the most embarrassing moment of your life. You look back and see an expression you can’t quite read on his face as you quickly recover and ask him how the star's life is treating him.

He regales you with all that he’s done the past few years since the music thing took off, and how he’s looking forward to the movies he’s gonna make. He even tells you how he’s just about to finish filming his first one pretty soon, and head back to Hollywood in a week.

The irony that you sit across from him, his dreams once so lofty and out of reach now coming true whereas your simple one seems to slip through your fingers is not lost on you. You have to actively force yourself to be happy for him at this moment, as he’s hardly to blame for your recent misfortunes.

“How are you and Mindy doing?” you ask, after a while.

“Who?”

That really shouldn’t make you as happy as it did.

“You know your old Sweetheart and all that,” you tease lightly.

“Oh… her…” he says, unable to hide the bit of a grimace on his face. “She was… nice?”

“You don’t gotta lie,” you say, laughing a bit at the thought

“She was nice to me,” he elaborates, shrugging his shoulders a bit, before giving a pointed look at you. “She had a lot to say ‘boutchu though.”

“I can imagine.” you say, plucking a few seeds. “Guess childhood sweethearts ain’t all they cracked up to be.”

“Wouldn’t know,” he says. “But enough a all that, how ‘boutchu, Honeybee? Whatcha been up to all these years?”

“Oh you know, ain’t nothin’ ever changes down in Tupelo,” you dismiss, hoping to dodge his question. “Still growing flowers, still selling them,” you say, willing your smile to be more cheerful than strictly necessary.

“Y’know,” he broaches lightly, his fingers awkwardly rapping against the grainy wood of the table. “I actually did stop by the shop before I got here…” he trails off, a solemn air falling over the both of you.

“Oh.”

“Listen, darlin’,” he says, taking his hand in yours. “If you need anythin’ tell me how I can help,” he pleads softly.

“Yo-you don’t gotta be worried ‘bout us, we-we’re gonna be fine,” you stutter, attempting to parrot your Mama’s own words back to him, hoping you’re at least somewhat convincing. He takes your hand in his and soothingly rubs his thumb along the back of your hand.

“Sweetheart if you folks need some money to tide y‘all over for a bit, I’d be happy t-”

“No,” you cut him off. “I can’t accept your money for nothing,” you declare.

“I understand Honeybee,” he says, looking out the window. “But I just moved to a new place up in Memphis. It’s nice but kinda… bare on the outside, and I’ve been in the market for someone to fix that.” he says his steely blue gaze fixed on you. “And then I thought who better than the girl who could grow anythin’?”

You’re genuinely flattered at the compliment, but you can’t help but feel this is simply more of his pity and you let him know as much.

“Sweetheart, I was gonna offer you the job even before I saw your shop,” he says genuinely. “It don’t gotta be forever, just work a couple months up in Graceland, makin’ sure everything set up come spring, then you’ll be home.”

“Graceland?”

“It’s what the old owners called it anyway,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a house right now, but it ain’t no home.” he looks solemn in his words until his eyes trail to you and you can see in real time as his whole demeanor brightens. “I think you could help fix that darlin’,” he states, his smile making it hard to focus on much else.

There is a bit of a pause, and you stupidly realize he’s waiting for an answer from you. But from the almost imperceptible drop in his grin at your hesitation, you doubt it’s the one he’s looking for. “I-I’m flattered but… I-I can’t just leave right now.” you stutter, feeling guilty that he’s now upset with you, and you feel the need to further justify your stance. “My family needs me right now.”

“And this is how you can help ‘em right now,” he argues, reaching into his back pocket. “I can even pay ya’ half upfront now.”

“Elvis, I don’t think that’ll be eno–” you’re cut off by him suddenly slapping what looks to be six hundred dollars on the table before casually going back to picking off the ruby colored seeds. He smiles a bit at the gobsmacked expression on your face, but how could you not be?

Renting out a new space downtown for a few months wouldn’t even cost a quarter of this with the rest being able to go toward everything else. It’s almost funny that previously you never even thought about money, but now it feels like that’s all you think about these days.

“This-this is just for six months of work?”

“Three actually,” he corrects. “The rest you’ll get paid in the Spring.”

You feel your heart thunder within your chest with his words. This would be more than enough money to get your family through the year. But you don’t know if you could do it. Not the gardening part obviously more the being so far away from your family part.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” you question, hoping that maybe the rest will be able to better convince you to go for it or someone else could take the offer.

“Sweetheart I gotta get back to Memphis real soon,” he warns, a lot cooler than before. “So I’m gonna need an answer right now.” You swallow nervously at the intensity of his gaze on you, feeling an uncomfortable feeling settling in your belly, the prospect of leaving home, making you queasy.

“Elvis I-I-I don’t know,” you stutter, your palms clammy as you hold the hem of your skirt with shaky hands, feeling as though the world is somehow closing in on you.

“Well I guess that’s that then,” he says with an air of finality, that only further turns your stomach.

This man is offering a solution to all your current woes and yet you hesitate? You balk at the idea of a couple months of doing the same work you would’ve been doing here? And for what exactly?

You know you should discuss this with your Mama, but you already know what her answer is going to be. It’s the same one she has been giving these last few weeks when you had asked about getting a job to better support the house.

Your daddy never came back from the war so she promised to love you twice as fiercely, for the both of them. She had always done her best to feed you, clothe you, protect you. It’s no secret that everything this farm started from you when she had to support the both of you on her own. And you know for a fact if it was her being offered the job she wouldn’t have even blinked to take it. But you’re about to let that all slip through your fingers because you’re too much of a coward to do what needs to be done.

But even with all that in mind, it’s not your mind that ultimately makes the decision so much as your stomach, as it rumbles yet again as you look upon the basket he left behind overflowing with one of the most expensive fruits you know, a mere taste as to what he can so casually provide you.

You catch him just as he’s about to step out the door, but before you can officially say yes you have one question left for him. “Can you promise me I’ll be home come Spring?”

“Darlin’ I can promise you right now, come Spring we’ll both have exactly what we want.” which is a big promise for anyone to make, but you are looking at the boy who had gone from being only able to sing in front of a single person in an empty field to someone who is now selling out shows to hundreds. There is an odd sense that if anybody can manifest the near impossible it would be him.

It takes you only an hour to pack what you think you’ll need for these coming months, as well as write a barebones note explaining to your Mama that no you’re not being kidnapped and that you’ll be gone to raise money to save the farm. You don’t say where you’ll be but you do promise that you will write as often as you can and that you’ll be home come springtime. You quickly stuff the note and the money into the envelope, and leave it right on top of the basket.

But before you can make it out the front door, you're presented with a bright cheerful looking daffodil, plucked straight from the vase you had put it in. “For new beginnings,” he says with a soft smile.

“How’d you know that?” you asked surprised that he remembered after all this time, but taking a hold of it anyway.

“Hell, all the time I spent down here,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Somethin’ was bound to stick.”

And just like that you’re off.

You refuse to look forlornly out at the fields you’re leaving behind, trying to remind yourself that it’s not as though you’ll be gone forever. You’ll be back before you know it, you think, trying to convince yourself, and it’s Elvis’ hand in yours that gives you some small comfort in this incredibly trying time, even as his eyes are firmly set forward.

Though it’s as you get to the state border do you realize that this will mark the first time you’ve been so far from home ever, and you let Elvis know as much.

“There’s gonna be a lotta firsts when you stick with me darlin’,” he says, giving a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

Graceland on the outside is beautiful but… sterile, if you had to take a guess. There were trees with leaves starting to brown for the autumn, the shrubbery was perfectly manicured, and the grass was well maintained but it was utterly devoid of color save for the cars in the driveway.

But then again this is what you’re here to rectify, so you try to be an optimist about it, and try to view it as a blank canvas so to speak. What the property lacked in the moment was warmth and you suppose now it’s your job to bring it.

That first month was all devoted to building the greenhouse necessary to start the entire process. You prefer to start with the seeds rather than skipping straight to the bulbs, so a place where you can better help them grow is ideal. Elvis is all too willing to indulge this and he puts in the order for one but all too soon he has to leave to go and finish his movie.

As much as you knew Elvis, it felt odd being in a house with the owner gone. And while Graceland was far from empty, there is still that unsettling sensation of being there that you can’t quite shake.

Of course not used to being so idle even during the winter, you start to take on other duties around the household. You quickly endear yourself to Miss Gladys with your willingness to take on the chores of the house and she goes out of her way to make you feel welcome.

You like her, she’s the only one who feels as uncomfortable at the opulence as you did. In a lot of ways she reminds you of your own mother with the way she frets over her absent son. This strikes a particularly guilty chord within you, because unlike your Mama, Gladys has the benefit of knowing where her child was at the moment.

“Where ya from sweetheart?” she asks you idly one day as you’re helping her make breakfast early one morning.

“Tupelo,” you say while you beat the eggs.

“Oh do I know your Mama?”

“Probably,” you answer. “She ran the flower shop back there.”

Gladys pauses at that. You can’t see her face but you do hear the hesitation in her voice as she whispers “... Demi?”

“Yeah that’s my mama… you know her?” you ask a little confused at this point, and you wonder if there is some history there.

There is an uncomfortably long pause before she says a simple, “Yeah I think I remember her…” The rest of the morning is filled with an awkward silence as you try to figure out what could have possibly happened there.

That night, before you enter the room to talk to Elvis over the phone, you overhear the tail end of the conversation between him and his Mama. You hear her whisper in a low tone, “I hope you know what you’re doin’ Bewbie.”

Whatever awkwardness that had arisen because of her question disappears soon after that. Gladys happily takes you under her wing once more, bringing you further into the fold of the Presleys and all the dynamics that come with it. She has even begun to refer to you as the daughter she never had which, while you understand is meant to make you feel welcome here, it in fact eats at you considering the state of the relationship between you and your real Mama.

It’s times like these that you truly hate that your family doesn’t have a telephone. You want more than anything to hear her voice, but you know yourself well enough to know that if you were to even visit now you wouldn’t want to ever leave again.

You write to her pretty much every day. Like clockwork for the first month you write to her telling her about your day the same way you usually would, asking her for advice on some flowers, anything really that comes to mind. You had a lot of time that first month while you were helping with planning and building the greenhouse, so everyday you would sift through the hoard of mail to find one bearing your home address.

But it never comes.

That doesn’t stop you from continuing to write to her everyday, handing off the letter to Jerry, and eagerly awaiting her reply.

Elvis is very understanding over the fact that it’s a marathon and not a sprint to make the garden he wanted and every time he’s back home he’s just as eager to see your progress with the seeds as you are to show him. Once you even tried to apologize to him feeling guilty that it’s taking so long to perfect that image of Graceland he had.

“Sweetheart you bein’ there, takin’ care a everythin’ makes it feel all the more like a proper home,” he insists over the phone. “And I can’t wait to get back and see it all.”

This guilt eases once the greenhouse is finished and you can finally get to work with the flowers you’ve planned. Elvis quote “trusted your vision” and wanted you to choose whatever you thought worked best, but he did specify which flowers he absolutely wanted on the property: Lilacs, Gardenias, Carnations, Tulips, Forget-Me-Nots, and Roses.

“I’m a bit of a romantic, I guess,” he said shyly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t mind too much, as him knowing what he wants by far makes him the easiest man you’ve ever worked with.

Elvis had left you with the understanding that the boys he left behind would be at your beck and call and that should you need anything, not to be afraid to send them to get it. Pots and other such tools were easy enough to send for, but when it came down to other fine details such as soil and seeds, you trusted no one but yourself to find what you need, and so you instead ask if one of them could take you into town to find what you need.

“I cAN-” Jerry, one of the younger ones offered, blushing furiously at his overeagerness that caused his voice to crack slightly. “I mean I can take you,” he says, far more composed this time around. The other men protest, saying he’s too young and that he only just got his license, and ‘don’tchu want a real man drivin’ around sweetheart?’

It was those last comments that really solidified your decision to have it be him, as there was something about Jerry, (16, Lanky, and with a voice still cracking from puberty) that put your mind at ease over all these other grown men, in a way you can’t exactly place.

You stopped going to school when you were around 15 and outside of brief exchanges with the men that used to come into your shop, you haven’t really had much interaction with menfolk in the past 3 years. So that’s where you believe your unease stems from, having been surrounded by mostly women your entire life, being around so many men now is a bit of a shock to your system.

He leads you to his shiny new car, a gift from Elvis for some unspecified favor he did for him, and just like that you’re off. The drive into town is mostly quiet save for Jerry nervously pointing out to you his favorite places in Memphis. You're happy to get out of Graceland, even for a little bit, as you rarely if ever got to explore Tupelo, so being somewhere entirely new was exciting, but at the end of the day there is really only one place you wished to be, the local nursery.

You quickly locate the specific tools you’re going to need and find the best soil for the flowers, and you’re finally able to do what you most wanted. You’re almost like a kid in a candy store as you eagerly look through the varieties of seeds available within the store. As much as you want to take them all you have to be realistic as to not only what would look good, but as to what could be grown on the property to have it looking good year round.

“So err…uhhh… Wh-what’s your favorite flower?” he asks shyly, as you're perusing the various seed packets to be had.

“All of them,” you say without hesitation, not even looking up from the task.

“Really all of ‘em?”

“I’m serious, asking me what my favorite flower is, it’s like asking a mother who her favorite child is,” you say fondly, rubbing your thumb lightly on the little packets that will eventually become the flowers you so love.

He laughs at that, “Why do ya’ love ‘em so much?”

“Well when you grow up on a flower farm, you ain’t got much of a choice,” you quip.

“A flower farm?”

“Yeah,” you clarify. “My Mama and I grew and sold flowers in our shop back in Tupelo.”

“...Yo-you had a flower shop back in Tupelo?” he stutters.

“Yeah,” you say solemnly, this conversation dredging up some very bittersweet memories. “Why dontcha go ring up everything while I finish up over here,” you say.

It's October already, you think to yourself, they probably started cutting down the sunflowers by now. You know that you’re doing more for them here making money and sending it back to them than you would have being an extra set of idle hands back home, still that does little to quell that uneasy feeling being so far from home now.

You’d kept up the writing and have recently let her know how lonely you’ve been feeling here, part venting, part as a means of getting her to write to you back for the first time.

It didn’t work and that sours your mood for the rest of the outing.

The ride back to Graceland is far quieter this time around, and Henry seems to avoid you after that, but you hardly notice as now that you have everything you need, you can really focus all your energy in doing what you came here to do. This is what you’re undoubtedly good at and now that you’re back at it, you don’t want anything to distract you from doing your job and getting back home as soon as possible.

A few days later, as you were finishing up in the greenhouse you would find Jerry sitting next to someone, back ramrod straight as a familiar figure had an arm casually slung over his shoulder. Jerry leaves before you can figure out what that’s all about, so you instead greet the not-so-stranger before you.

“You’re early,” you casually remark to him.

“I missed ya’,” he drawls, a light smirk on his lips that causes a pleasant warmth to radiate from your chest. But his face takes on a more sobering look as he looks at you, purses his lips, and pats the no occupied seat, which you worriedly take. “Actually, I was just ‘bouta go lookin’ for ya’,” he says, before letting out a pensive sigh. “Jerry actually needs a place to stay for a week or two, and I invited him here.”

“Oh that’s nice of you,” you say.

A small bashful smile cracks his somber expression, before the intensity returns and he informs you that yours was the room he offered him.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” you insist, scared that you may be about to be sent home without the rest of the money to show for it.

“Don’tchu worry ‘bout that,” he said, chucking your chin up to look at him. “I just figured that my bed should be big ‘nough for the both of us.”

His words catch you off guard, and you feel your face burning unsure as to how to respond. He sees your hesitation and backs off slightly before continuing. “Course if you don’t feel too comfortable sharin’ with me I can always putcha up somewhere else,” he starts and you’re about to jump on that offer until he continues. “Though, we might need to take that outta your pay,” he says, and you shrink a bit at the reality of the situation. “Not to mention havin’ to getchu back and forth day in and out,” he continues, rambling on and on about the logistics of the prospect.

“No-no,” you cut in. “I-if you’re really okay with it… then I-I don’t mind.” you say slightly defeated though if he notices he doesn’t say anything about it.

A full grin cracks his face, “Perfect we’ll go move your things right now,” he says as he takes your hand in his leading you up to where your room was.

“...ok…” you said, accepting his offer in a small voice. Though it’s hardly an offer as that would imply you had a choice in the matter.

The next week you want to kick yourself over being so nervous over nothing, as he proves himself to be nothing less than a gentleman all things considered. Yes he does get a bit clingy when he’s asleep and he all but refuses to let you out of the bed when you wake up before him. But in all honesty you welcome it very much.

It helps ease that lonely feeling somewhat as being held by him takes away some of your worry about not belonging here. Everybody seems to give you a wide berth and it was a definite shock to your system considering where you come from, being essentially the baby on the farm you were freely plied with all forms of physical affection your whole life. But you do take comfort in him, even if it is only limited to the night time.

Though when that week is up you idly ask him when you can move your things back into your old room, to which he only responds by wrapping an arm over your shoulders and saying, “Now why would I want my Honeybee so far away from me.”

You’re too shocked at the statement to even think of countering him at the moment, but even when the statement does truly settle for you, you aren’t entirely opposed to it. As it makes you feel far more secure here knowing that he wants you here so much. It’s odd how final it feels in spite of how small the moment was. You’re not just Honeybee anymore, you're His Honeybee, and that’s that.

That’s one of the first things you learned living in Graceland, is that whatever Elvis says, goes. Everybody seems to bend over backwards to his wishes here, and at first it was a little funny if a little perturbing, as you justified to yourself that you were his friend and therefore he wouldn’t put any crazy demands on you even if he was technically your boss.

But it’s only in that moment that you truly realize that you were no exception to that rule. And why would you be? Considering he is the one that is the one supporting not only you but by extension your entire family back home, how can you do anything but agree to his demands?

But that may be being a bit too harsh, as being his girl is certainly not an unpleasant phenomena. He seemed to become bolder with your amiable acceptance to your new found title of becoming his. In short order all of the clothes you brought from home disappeared and were replaced with much finer ones, and he becomes the most frequent visitor in the greenhouse.

Whenever he is around is almost constantly touching you and bringing you close to him at any given moment. And these weren’t exactly touches you were familiar with; Brushing his fingers along your neck to fix your necklace, hand on your lower back to steer you a certain way, rubbing your knee beneath the table (sometimes above your clothes, sometimes not) etc. All new and exciting, in their own ways.

Everytime you see him it feels akin to something blooming within your chest. You think this is why there were so many flowers meant to express love, because that feeling he gives you is hard to put into words.

It was only inevitable that the kisses would come along eventually. First beginning as friendly ones on the cheek before bed, then graduating to something far more… carnal. Almost like he was trying to consume you, and these kisses always left you panting and in a state of shock from the ferocity he displayed only to end it with a very sweet kiss to your cheek and tucking the both of you into bed.

You’re not gonna lie and say you don’t enjoy the kissing but it does give you a good scare when he begins to touch you in other places that are not-so-innocent places as he kisses you: His hand on your bottom when wants to press your body closer to his, the continual rubbing between your inner thighs, his thumb circling the taut peak of your breast.

Though admittedly his new touches were a bit on the scarier side for you, you don’t fight it, and in fact get bolder yourself by taking a page out of his book and giving as good as you got. He seems to relish the reaction he can pull from you, which is intimidating as much as it is titillating.

But these feelings have also been manifesting in some strange ways physically, like you seem to breathe harder when he’s around, and seeing him bite his lip makes your mouth go dry. But this all pales in comparison to the sensation of him rubbing a hand on your inner thigh, and it feels like you go dry everywhere, save for one place. As exciting as it is, it’s confusing all the same, and you above all else wish you could confide in anyone with how you were feeling.

Typically you could freely talk about any lady troubles you may have with your Mama but her inability/unwillingness to talk to you now leaves you to navigate this maze alone. You consider asking Miss Gladys or even Dodger for their thoughts, but the fact that it’s Elvis that awakens these feelings within you, makes going to them seem inappropriate for some reason. But ultimately that only leaves you with one person to go to about your problem despite them also being the cause of it.

Which is how you find yourself sitting on your knees in his bed with a shaky breath telling him how his touches are stirring something in you that you don’t understand.

“Where?” he asks, seemingly innocent but the way he bites his cheek, tells you he’s trying to hold back a laugh at your discomfort. “Here” he says, placing a hand on your lower belly, and while it clenches from the sudden contact, you shake your head no.

“Here?” He asks with a small smile, cupping one of your breasts, and though your breath hitches in your throat and you feel one of the buds harden at his thumbs' attention, that’s not where the worst of the feelings is coming from.

“Elvis please,” you beg, squirming at his touch.

“Oh I think I know Honeybee,” he says one hand now slowly dragging the hem of your nightgown up well past your hips, before he rubs his fingers along the seam of your panties.

In spite of the strangled feeling in your throat, you manage to squeak out a simple “yes,” as tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Don’tchu worry Baby. I know somethin’ that can help,” he says as he drags the delicate fabric of your white cotton panties down to your knees. On reflex your thighs clench shut immediately but, with a few languid kisses he’s able to distract you from your skittishness and you feel the first tentative brush of his fingers on that sensitive flesh.

As much as you love your home you’ll admit that there was rarely if ever a moment for yourself there anymore. So him now brazenly touching the seldom explored area was mind-boggling for you, moreso when he begins to prod deeper, dipping between your folds and even one finger delving further than any other.

That gets a surprised gasp out of you before you bite down on your lip hard, embarrassed that you're feeling like this while he’s trying to help you. But while you’re able to hold back your noises, you can do nothing to help the way you’re breathing-well more panting- now or the way you’re shivering. You’ve never felt anything close to this in your life, but even this pales in comparison to when he adds a second finger, and you feel like you're about to burst.

“Honeybee… what’d ya know ‘bout baby-makin’,” he asks, seemingly out of the blue.

Part of you wants to act coy and say something like “enough” to get him to continue, but it’s hard to concentrate on any of that as you feel his fingers deep within you. So instead you reply with, “that…that o-ooh-only a Husband and Wife can make oNE.” you yelp that last part as he curls his fingers ever so slightly.

“And that’s it?” he asks with a bit of a skeptical look on his face, and you bury your face in his neck, a bit ashamed that that is the truth of the matter. “Oh Honeybee, you don’t gotta be that way,” he says, giving you a sweet kiss to your nose as he’s still three knuckles deep up your canal. “That’s the right of it, but I don’t think yer Mama ever mentioned that there ain’t no harm in practicin’ before the Weddin’ like this.”

“O-oh,” you say, part as an answer, part an involuntary noise to the way his thumb starts to circle around that pearl between your folds.

“You like that baby girl?” he purrs to you. Your eyes are shut tight and you’re trying to move your hips in tandem with his motions.

“Y-yes,” you manage to whimper, so focused on chasing that feeling he’s causing that you don’t even notice when he drags the straps of your nightgown fully down your shoulders. And it’s as you suddenly feel him bite down hard on the soft skin of your breast do you finally peak with a harrowing sob.

You cling on to him for dear life as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you all at once and you feel as though you’re going to float away any moment. But holding on to him, kissing him, and feeling his skin against your tethers you here, reassuring you that this isn't a dream.

You feel his fingers leave you, and that paired with him pulling away from your lips causes a small whine to come from you. You’re quickly quieted from the shock of seeing him stick the same fingers in his mouth giving a contented groan, “Course my Honeybee’s got the sweetest nectar he whispers against your lips, before giving you a taste for yourself.

You feel boneless and weightless yet your eyes feel so heavy from all that you just experienced, but for as tired as you are at that moment, you’re not ready to go back to dreaming yet.

“Ca-can I try that on you?” you ask meekly still in a bit of a haze from that euphoric feeling.

A bite to his lip prevents it from being a full blown grin “You sure ‘bout that Baby? Mine’s a lil’ different… well not too lil’,” he says. Clearly amused by your request to make him feel just as good.

“I wanna help,” you insist. He chuckles at how eager you were before he guides your hand down to a prominent bulge in his briefs. You’re not too sure what exactly you’re feeling through the rough cotton, just that it is either intensely painful or pleasurable to Elvis given how his breath hitches and his eyes slam shut. You try to remove your hand but his vice-like grip on your wrist prevents that and you can only further palm him.

You apply a bit more pressure, you take the sigh of contentment as a good sign before you delve underneath the fabric of his shorts.

You watch, a bit fascinated as you work to get the rough fabric down, and suddenly you’re face to face with something you’ve never seen before. A long thick column of flesh stands before you, bobbing slightly as he takes deep breath after breath. The skin feels soft but unyielding beneath your touch and you patiently await his instructions, but that deep groan that comes from him as you apply a bit of pressure makes you feel all sorts of powerful over this beautiful man.

He has you gather the slick from between your legs and even spit in your own hand to make it easier for you to slide up and down the shaft. His eyes are screwed shut, his long lashes brushing his cheeks, and he’s mumbling his praises for you, which only further encourages you.

He’s unraveling before your eyes, and you take great delight in being a witness to it. You’ve seen him dance before so it shouldn’t be surprising how well he’s able to move his hips, but it does add an entirely new context to it and you hope the next time you see him on stage you’ll be able to not think of him like this.

An idea pops into your head, and you decide to jump on it before you lose your nerve, and you give a soft kiss to the very tip of him. He freezes in place, his eyes wide and shocked at your teasing, his chest rising and falling and you feel heat flood your entire being.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” you breath out, embarrassed that you may have unintentionally done something you weren’t supposed to do. “I just th-thought you mi-” you cut off as he chuckles at your obvious distress before giving you a sweet kiss.

“Just surprised me Honeybee, thas all,” he reassures you against your lips, before giving you a little nibble there. “Why don’tcha try that again?” he drawls, trying to not appear too eager, but it’s apparent even to you.

You get right back to it, and you give even softer kisses along the shaft, each one being punctuated by a low moan from him, until you finally get to the very top of him, and you run your tongue along the small slit to be found there.

His hips stutter at that and one second you’re wondering what’s happening to him, the next you’re a coughing mess as that salty stream hits the back of your throat. He’s now just as dazed as you feel his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, as you settle, and he takes charge in getting you both ready for bed.

As you lay side by side, he has nothing but praise for you whispering how good and perfect you were between hungry kisses until you drift off to sleep.

The next day would mark the first time you didn’t write to your mother. Part because you have already accepted she wouldn’t reply, part wanting to also keep that as private as possible. It also marks the first time in your life you don’t share something that felt so important with her.

Your Mama never liked talking about your daddy beyond saying that they loved each other very much. She never went into detail beyond that believing you were too young to hear them, but she never gave you an idea when you would be grown enough to hear them. But now above all else you want to hear when she knew she was in love with him, because you think you’re falling in love with Elvis.

Scratch that.

You know you are but you would give anything right now to be able to talk to somebody about it. And it’s upsetting that the person you usually talk your worries through is also one of your biggest ones at the moment. But even then you would have been willing to discuss it with her, if only she was willing to do so back.

It seems the more upset you become with her, the more comforting Elvis becomes to you. Even still you hesitate to share your fears with him until he is the one that broaches it.

“What’s on your mind Honeybee?” he says as he draws circles along your hip.

“Nothing much,” you dismiss. “Just trying to figure out when it's best to plant everything.”

His sardonic smile tells you he doesn’t believe you one bit, “C’mon darlin’ I know ya’ better than that.” Which is a bit of an understatement, as it feels like these days he’s able to read you better than you can yourself anymore.

After letting out a long tired sigh, you tell him “I think she’s mad at me,” while you two were settling into bed.

“Now who could ever be mad at my Honeybee?” he says, bringing you closer to him.

“My mama,” you say solemnly, tears in your eyes. “She’s never replied to a single letter of mine, and I write to her everyday.”

“I’m sure she’s just busy,” he tries to comfort you. But they ring hollow knowing that she always used to say- something you even quoted her in your last letter- ‘I’m never too busy for you Rosebud.’ He pulls you close to his chest as he rubs his hand along your back, “Darlin’ your mama is a hard-headed woman- lord knows I got the scars to prove it- but I don’t think she could stay mad at you forever.”

“What?” you say, sitting up to face him fully.

“What?”

“What do you mean you have the scars to prove it?”

“O-oh…” he says with a slight grimace on his face, before giving a bit of an awkward chuckle. “We-well… ya’ remember before I left, I-I asked you to’ run away with us?” You nod your head slowly. “Well that night, when I went back to the farm to tell her… she… she had a bit of a fit.”

“That doesn’t answer my question E.”

His lips form a thin line, clearly reluctant to tell you more, but he does eventually cave with a long hard sigh. “She got so mad at the thought a you leavin’ she grabbed my hand somethin’ fierce, and… and… well…” he trails off as he presents you the palm of his left hand, where you can see some small jagged silvery lines along it.

“She… she did this?” you whisper, lightly touching the scars, unbelieving that your Mama could do such a thing. She was the one who hardly ever raised her voice and didn’t even swat at Bees in front of you. How could she hurt him like this?

“I-I understand not wantin’ your kid to run away,” he says, “but I don’t think hurtin’ one like this was needed. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it.”

“What is it?”

“She… she banned me from ever comin’ back to the farm again. Couldn’t even say goodbye to ya properly,” he says somberly, his eyes sad as he tenderly cupped your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say, at a loss for what else you could say knowing what you do now.

“You don’t got nothin’ to apologize for baby,” he says softly, holding your hand in his scarred one. “And listen Honeybee, if she’s so mad that she don’t wantcha back, you’ll always have a home here,” he promises before he gives you a kiss to your temple and turns off the light.

You know the words were meant to be comforting, but they have the opposite effect and make your stomach drop at the prospect that she may be that mad. It has never occurred in your mind that she may be that cross with you for leaving

But like a fowl little seed, those words are implanted in your mind and take root. You wish he had never said those words, but you can hardly fault him for his attempts to console you in your hurt.

Would she ever be so mad at you? You wonder to yourself. You feel Elvis hands wrap around your waist and you remember the marks your Mama left on him in a rage. And that was simply from the idea that you would leave. What would she do now that you've actually left?

Elvis has never had a bad word to say about anybody, but you realize even he was being far more generous than was needed for what she had done. All that over a stupid kiddy idea of running away?

You lay there for hours with the only sounds being Elvis’ steady breathing. The longer you’re awake the more you think about it, which fuels the vicious cycle as those thoughts make it harder to fall asleep. Doubt creeps into your very soul that the home you are so desperate to return to will even be there come spring, and you silently weep.

But not as silently as you thought, as Elvis is awake within seconds. He holds you so close and so tight that it truly feels like he’ll never let go.

“No matter what,” he whispers in your ear. “Your home will always be here with me, Honeybee.”

You’re touched by his words and the way he holds you makes you feel so safe now and you kiss him fiercely, and want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible.

Up until this point you had been reluctant to go that final step with Elvis, pretty much doing everything but that last act. As greedy as he could be with your body (given how many hours he’s spent with his head between your legs), he had asserted you would be the one to decide when you would cross that final line with him. Though from the tone of his voice each time he said it, you figured he was gunning for it to be sooner rather than later.

You don’t know what exactly it is about the idea that you may not have a home to return to that makes you want to attach yourself further to him. You want to forget about everything when you’re with him and he makes it easy to do so. Being with him makes you so happy in way you don’t ever think you’ve experienced on the farm, and you

“Are ya sure sweetheart,” he groans, before his eyes snap shut as you rub your lower lips along his shaft, as you’ve done dozens of times before.

“Yes,” you whine, wanting to feel him the way he was meant to be.

When he finally slides into you, you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you, as he slides right into you. You’re on top and he lets you set the pace for yourself, which is good as even with all of your previous practice with him, you still need some time to adjust to the size of him up that secret channel of yours.

You can see the sheer will power it’s taking for him to let you go your own speed, so once the pleasure overtakes the pain, without any more preamble, you begin to quicken your hips and ride him like your life depends on it. It may very well, considering the closer you get to you climax the more it feels like you may pass out before you get to that point.

“This right here,” he grons, rolling his hips up into you rubbing his thumb along that button of yours. “This is where home is.”

“Yes,” you sob, tears streaming down your face, “Home… you.” you cry, unable to finish as he hits just the right spot within and your vision is being blurred by stars.

You feel so whole as he spills within you, and with his now softened cock still snuggly within you, “I love you Elvis,” you sigh into his chest, content to fall asleep then and there, but you quickly realize your mistake as your words seem to reinvigorate him and he takes you a few more times until the crack of dawn. But between his filthy words and his declarations of love one thing he says sticks out to you the most.

“Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna take you away now Honeybee,” he groans as you pick up the pace, his hand squeezing your bottom so tight, only further cementing how secure you are here.

Slowly but surely you stop writing to your mother. What was something you previously did everyday, became every other week, to eventually once a week once February came. And even the ones you do send are limited to very basic and dry summaries of the week, as to what flowers you were focusing on and general questions as to how everybody else is doing back home. Gone are the days of you waxing poetically about your confusion over your feelings for Elvis and you plea for a single response from her. She’s shown her interest in your life, as well as shown how willing she is to be involved with it anymore so you decide to accept it, albeit with a heavy heart.

The last time you expressed anything even remotely emotional with her was how you find it hard to think of the farm as being home anymore when she’s been so cold to you these last few months, and how you doubt you even want to go back.

She doesn’t reply.

Elvis seems to take to his new role in your life surprisingly well. Always willing to help you through your emotional turmoil when he was home and shield you from the rest.

He seems to take great comfort in you as well, and the greenhouse has now even become a place away from all of it. When he’s home one of the first things he does is visit you there, and simply sit with you for a few hours. You think it’s mostly to serve as a breather between all the chaos that is his life outside of these glass walls, but you’re all too happy to help him in this way as he’s helped you.

That feeling of perfection you got when you first shared that pomegranate with him, you feel it almost everyday in that greenhouse with him. The light shining through the panes of glass keeping the place warm, the fresh air coming from the sproutlings in their pots, his soft humming. All of it adding up to a dream you never want to wake up from.

The beginning of Spring came and went and neither of you brought up the fact that you were meant to be back at the farm. The most you do allude to it was you telling him to forward that final payment directly to your Mama, mostly as a last ditch effort to get her to finally respond to you for once.

She doesn’t respond.

You and Elvis decide then and there to wash your hands of her, though it was perhaps the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. But you can’t keep letting her silence break your heart so you focus all of your energy into two things: Elvis and making Graceland beautiful.

The first one is pretty easy to do considering when he is home, there is little to no distance between you two. He can hardly keep his hands off of you anymore when he’s here, with nights spent under the sheets, and days spent literally everywhere else on the property. He seems to be particularly fond of being in the Greenhouse, loving to see you so in your element in there only to bend you over your work table and take you hot and heavy from behind.

These encounters only make you feel his absence even more, as while you’re not exactly alone in Graceland it does make the big property feel all the emptier. Which in turn makes your second focus all the harder.

You’ve by now planted any and all flowers you intended to and they are all well on their way to growing strong, and now knowing you’re going to be staying, you’re happy that you’ll be able to do so for years to come. Now that you’ve gotten past the most trying part, tending to them is going to be a cinch…

Or it would be if you weren’t so tired all the time.

Oftentimes you find yourself napping in the most inopportune places around the property. Sweet Pea has apparently appointed herself as your official protector while you rested outside and by extension roped Brutus and Snoopy into it as well. You can’t even begin to count the amount of times you would want to rest your eyes for a minute only to find hours had passed and three dogs at the ready to guard you from whatever may come. WHich considering how you’ve been feeling sicker and sicker lately what with the fever you’ve been feeling and the nausea you’ve been having some mornings.

You don’t exactly understand why you’re far more sensitive to smell nowadays. You almost threw up the other morning from the smell of the eggs, which has Dodger and Miss Gladys looking very funny at you. You don’t pay it any mind though as you were just glad that you’re still able to appreciate the smell of flowers.

You’re in a far better mood today, what with Elvis set to return later, you decided to leave a surprise in his office. The roses were in full bloom now, so you decided to pluck a few for old times sake and leave some for him.

As you’re placing the vase down onto the desk, you watch as one of the blooms falls right off the stems and rolls to the other side of it. But when you go to pick it up, what you find is far stranger.

With the amount of fan mail he gets, you wouldn’t have paid the neat stack any mind if you hadn’t immediately recognized your own handwriting on the very top one. ANd you would have taken that as a very crazy coincidence if it weren’t for the fact that it also has your old address on the front.

And it’s not just that one, you find a couple dozen envelopes with your handwriting and address on the front, and an unpleasant feeling fills your belly as you tentatively remove a page from the envelope.

And it’s there that you read your own gut-wrenching words of your loneliness here and your wishes that your mother would write back to you. How you plead for her to reach out if only to reassure you that she’s alive and getting these letters.

You had imagined that they had either been destroyed the moment your mother saw them or gathering dust somewhere in your old childhood home. But now you find them here, a place you know very few are even allowed to be.

She didn’t get any of them you realize looking at the thick stack, an icky sense of violation creeping under your skin, seeing them worn and wrinkled in some places, but somebody definitely read these.

You want to throw up, and not just because of your newfound sensitive stomach, but due to the revelation that if he didn’t send any of them, then that meant… he had seen you be upset to the point of crying over this, all the while blaming your Mama for it and letting you take comfort in him.

Not only that, he read about your loneliness and actively decided to make you feel even more isolated by not letting you talk to your Mama. He held you as you cried over the fact she wasn’t talking to you and said nothing.

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you stagger back so far that you knock the vase full of roses right off the desk. You don’t pay it any mind and leave them and the letters where you find them. You have to get away, you have to go home.

You don’t bother to grab anything (it’s all his anyway), you simply find Jerry and tell him that he has to take you back to Tupelo right now. He’s stuttering trying to make the usual excuses of why he couldn’t take you, but he’s weak to your tears, and he silently leads you to the car.

It’s a long silent trip save for your quiet sobs from the passenger side. You don’t know if he’s intentionally stalling or if the drive is truly this long, either way it feels like forever before you can finally breathe within the Lee County borders.

You take comfort in the landmarks becoming more and more familiar until finally you see your home in the distance. You don’t take your eyes off of it for even a second, afraid it may disappear the moment you do so. You have a hard time believing it’s even real until you stand before the front door.

You hold the doorknob hesitating to open it, fearful as to what you may find on the other side, but ultimately you know that there is no possible way it can be any worse than where you just came from.

It’s oddly shocking how nothing has really changed in the months you’ve been gone. It’s almost as though you just walked out minutes ago, but you yourself feel you’ve changed so much since you were last here. The furniture arrangement is the same, as are the books on the shelf, and even your Mama's house slippers are in their usual spot.

You listen as someone is cooking in the kitchen, and you feel your heart warm knowing that at the very least you accomplished what you had set out to do and provide for your family, regardless of the sick feeling that work has left in your belly.

“Kate that you?” you hear from the voice that has accompanied you your whole life. “I told all y’all to take the da-” she cuts herself off upon seeing you.

You almost don’t recognize her, the streaks of white in her hair, the fine lines in the corners and the heavy bags underneath her eyes, overall speak to the way your absence has affected her these last few months. You feel guilty for every unkind thought you’ve had of her all this time, as you can now see for yourself how much she missed you. She looks as though she’s aged ten years in the months you’ve been away, and you can only imagine how you’ve so drastically changed in her eyes.

But none of that matters in the moment, as she drops everything in her hands and proceeds to take you in her arms and sob uncontrollably. You meet her halfway weeping just as fiercly in her chest, you thought you had run out of tears during the drive, only to find a new spring, as she blubbers in your ear “my baby’s home.”

Even after some time had passed like that, you can’t even begin to form any semi-coherent sentence as you blubber over and over again your apologies for being gone for so long. She’s long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you which only makes you feel all the worse.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” she whispers, having long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you now. “You’re home now, Rosebud. Everything’s gonna be okay,” and guilt eats at you, that you could ever even entertain the thought that she wouldn’t want you back.

You remain in that state for what feels like hours, with your head in her lap as she smooths down your hair and in spite of all the turmoil you’ve undoubtedly put her through, it’s clear your comfort is her priority. Eventually though she does gather up the courage to ask you where you’ve been this whole time.

After all you’ve put her through you figure that she at least deserves the truth, so you sit up to face her. But before you can even open your mouth you hear the front door open. Any nominal contentment you’ve found being back home all slips away when you hear the familiar heavy footfalls of the man you’ve been dreading seeing all day.

“There you are Honeybee,” Elvis says, leaning against the doorframe, the familiar rakish smile in place. Those words are so familiar yet now they feel foreign as you no longer recognize the man who utters them to you.

It feels like in mere seconds your mama has brought you to your feet and now you stand behind her, and away from him. “What are you doin’ here!?” she shouts, her body tense and rigid, as though ready to defend you from a lion rather than a single man.

He hardly even glances her way, his eyes firmly set on you. “Here to take my Honeybee back home of course.” Your mama doesn’t even waste a second after hearing that, she only wordlessly approaches and takes a swing at him. But he was ready for that, as he easily catches her wrist, and brought her close to him “Ain’t so easy now I ain’t a runt no more?” he says, grinning ear to ear, a deadly look crossing his steely blue eyes.

This catches both of you off guard but your Mama is quick to recover and attempts to shove him right out the door with a mighty “Get outta my house!”

“Not without her,” he says, unnervingly keeping his voice low and cool, as though he were still very much in control of the situation.

He may still very well be, you think.

Before you can even think to help your mama, he easily maneuvers around her only to walk straight towards your frozen figure and put an arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon Honeybee,” he says, blatantly ignoring the tears streaming down your face. “Time to head home,” and you shiver when he runs his thumb along your cheek the way he’s done a million times before. You see your mama look wide-eyed at this familiar interaction, and to your horror so does Elvis. “That’s right you don’t know where she’s been,” he says, giving a faux innocent look while boldly admitting right in front of you he never sent any of those letters. “Why don’tcha tell her darlin’.” he declares, punctuating his familiarity with a kiss to your cheek. You don’t know what’s worse, the look of shock on your mama’s face as he does this, or the dissatisfied look he shoots you when you curl away from him.

Your mama doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out what he’s implying, as you watch her deflate as she looks at you and gives a very defeated “why?”

“Mama,” you whimper, wanting nothing more than to go to her, but Elvis’ arms keeping you firmly in place. “We-we needed the money, after the fire and…”

You stop yourself short as your Mama seems to contemplate your words, only to make some sort of realization of her own before, a look of horror slowly creeping onto her face. “It was you wasn’t it?” She seethes in a low voice.

“What was?” he says, trying to seem innocent but unable to fully mask his amusement at her state.

“The fire…” she said in a small voice, not even daring to continue.

No, you refuse to believe. Ain’t no way he would go that far, but then you remember Jerry’s skittishness when he learned you had a flower shop in Tupelo as well as his reluctance to deny you a single thing, that big favor he apparently did for Elvis to earn his shiny new Cadillac. All of it is making a lot of sense, but you’re still unwilling to go that far for a chance to be with you.

That is until he says, “Now that’s a mighty big accusation,” coolly, with a bit of a smirk as he looks down on her.

You freeze in place at that line. That’s not a no, you think, somehow still wanting to lie to yourself. He steals a glance at you and his face softens as he holds your shoulders and looks earnestly into your eyes as he says, “Honeybee you don’t think I would ever do something’ like that, now would you?”

You have to think on that for a moment, and you’re quiet until his grip tightens ever so slightly and his face noticeably drops from earnest to frustrated. You swallow deeply as you give a very unconvincing “No, of co-”

“Get your hands off her,” your mama spits, ripping you away from him, but he’s persistent, callously shoving her to the ground and gripping your jaw in his ringed hand.

“Because if it’s true,” he continues so softly even as the cold metal digs into your cheeks. “Then I wonder what else I’d be willin’ to do to keep ya,” he casually threatens a sadistic look in his eyes as a wide grin spreads across his face.

You feel your throat close as he glances down at your Mama, who’s struggling to get off the floor. He lets you go and you’re able to bring her to a chair. You once thought she was invincible but now you see her trembling clearly shaken up by this whole thing. Whatever your mama had; money, influence, respect, Elvis had in spades. She’s effectively powerless against him, but she still finds the strength to angle herself in front of you to try to block him.

She’s afraid of him no doubt about it, but she’s still willing to defend you with her life.

Would he be willing to go that far? You think and you let out a sob knowing the answer already.

“Choice is yours darlin’,” he whispers right next to your ear. “If you’re willin’ to choose.” and then he steps right out onto the porch. You hope in vain that somehow he’s decided to leave, but that quickly dies as you hear him strike a match and you smell the familiar miasma of his favorite cigars.

He wouldn’t, you think, but you can no longer put anything past him. You don’t ever want to truly find out what he’d be willing to if it meant keeping you by him, especially not at your mama’s expense. But you know in your gut how you can protect her.

If you have one thing to thank your earlier crying fits for, it’s that you’re tapped dry at this point, so as you say to her “Mama I gotta go now,” you can say it with a little bit of dignity.

“No… no Rosebud,” she pleads with you holding both of your hands. “Please stay… we can figure this out,” she says, the tears welling up in her eyes, as she comes to the same realization as you do.

“It’s gonna be okay Mama,” you vainly try to reassure her but mostly yourself. “But you gotta let me go,” you sob, wanting to do anything but. And you have to leave her crying in the home she made for you.

You find him leaning against the porch railing, eyes slowly opening as you move closer to him. “Yes Honeybee,” he says, cloyingly sweet, as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Elvis��please… just-just take me home,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest.

“Course sweetheart, anythin’ for you,” he says, and you shudder knowing he means it. You walk away from the porch and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops the cigar into the dirt and stamps it out. “I really oughta quit anyway,” he says. “Heard it’s bad for the baby.”

“What?” you say, your blood turning to ice hearing that.

“Ain’t it like magic Honeybee?” he sighs as you both get in the backseat of Jerry’s car, the owner of which is pointedly not looking at either of you. Elvis pays no mind to it, instead absentmindedly rubbing your lower belly back and forth. “You plant somethin’ so small, and it’ll grow up to be somethin’ else,” he sighs in contentment, and you close your eyes to yet another revelation that is coming far too late.

“But… but… you said, that it only happens when you’re married,” you say, though your spirit has long since been defeated.

“Don’tchu worry none ‘bout that sweetheart,” he dismisses. “We are gonna get married real soon, and ain’t no one gonna be the wiser.”

There’s something so final in that revelation that you are now forever tied to him not by your own choices, but by his. He chose you.

He knew what he was doing and he knew you didn’t.

Looking back you don’t think there was ever anything within your control. What’s worse is that a part of you wishes you had never gone into his office today and could have lived blissfully, unburdened with the knowledge of what he was willing to do to get you.

You love him, which makes this betrayal feel all the worse. You glance to the side to see the fields of flowers you’re leaving behind, as he slowly slips a ring on your finger. Now he’s not even gonna pretend that you have a choice in the matter, you are going to marry him because he said so.

With his hand in yours you feel as the car transitions from the dirt road to the paved one that will take you far away from your home.

You close your eyes and you don’t look back.

Alternate Summary: In which Elvis sees himself as a triumphant Orpheus when he’s actually a victorious Hades.

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