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moraxsthrone · 1 year

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — WHEN HE CUMS UNTOUCHED (sort of)

ft. diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli (separately; kaeya's is x gn!reader; all others are x f!reader)

be warned: nsfw. mdni. diluc's: wet dream/self-inflicted somnophilia(?)/oral (m. rcv'ing)/cum eating. itto's: rut/face-riding/oral (f. rcv'ing). kaeya's: prostate milking. thoma's: subby thoma/blindfold/sensory deprivation/marking/edging/orgasm denial. zhongli's: shibari/rope play/bondage/f. masturbation/squirting (his is kinda long - that's what she said - so i formatted it a little differently so it wouldn't be a 1k wall of text)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — DILUC

you wake up to the feeling of diluc rutting his hips behind you, his hot morning wood rubbing slowly between your naked butt cheeks. you smile groggily, your mind still shaking off the fog of sleep as you roll back against him. fuck, you missed him so much. he came home late last night, so damn tired he didn’t eat or anything; just stripped all his clothes off, crawled into bed, and pulled you into his arms. he’d been gone for almost a month, working tirelessly alongside his employees to help with the grand opening of a brand new angel’s share location in liyue. branching out is great for business, but being separated for such an extended period was rough on both of you. you would’ve accompanied him to the land of commerce, but someone needed to hang back and manage the day to day operations at both the winery and tavern in mondstadt. but it’s okay bc your husband is home again now, and is presently grinding his neglected dick against your plush butt. intertwining your fingers with his in front of your lips, you groan and kiss the knuckle of his thumb, “mm, diluc baby, missed you…” he responds by rocking his pelvis harder. unbeknownst to you, he’s dreaming a sweet little dream of sinking his thick, pale cock inside the wet heat of your cunt. he grunts, but you don’t think much of his non-verbal response until his hips buck and then still as you feel his warm, creamy fluid squirt against your bare ass. you gasp and look over your shoulder to see him smack his lips sleepily as his eyelids flutter for an instant. realizing he’s still asleep and in the throes of a wet dream, you throw the covers back and sink down between his legs to clean his cum from his cock with a warm tongue bath, making his dreams even wetter for him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ITTO

he’s in the peak of one of his ruts when he comes over to your place in need. your scent alone is enough to make him feral when he’s in heat like this. the towering oni barely makes it through your front door before scooping you up and carrying you to bed where he drops you on your back. he stands up again, staring down at you and licking his fangs as he peels his shirt off, exposing the scarlet markings on his broad chest and hard abs. he’s sniffing at the air, his mouth watering when he catches the familiar scent of your arousal. something about being manhandled by your oni makes you so wet for him, especially when his mating pheromones are lighting up the pleasure center of your reptilian brain. “take your clothes off, baby,” he commands, and you obey. he strips down to his boxers and lies down on his back before grabbing your naked thighs and practically dragging you on top of him. his thick, veiny cock has popped out of the hole in his underwear like it always does when he gets hard because he’s so fucking big. you sigh when your moist cunt drags along the textured underside of his wide shaft, the thick vein there rolling over your clit. you slick him up with your wet folds, gliding with ease and letting out a little whimper when your little pink pearl catches on the large mushroom tip of his cock. he’s watching your pretty pussy milk his precum out of his dark pink slit, the clear liquid oozing out almost nonstop and glistening in his white happy trail. “fuck, baby, come sit on my face,” he grumbles, cupping your ass in his huge hands and pulling you to straddle his shoulders. “y’smell so good ‘n i wanna taste ya…” you’re more than happy to oblige him, knowing how much he loves it when you ride his face and my gods, he’s so good at eating pussy, why wouldn’t you? you settle down on his waiting mouth, a shiver racing down your spine when his long tongue darts out to tease your engorged clit. immediately, your legs start to shake and you have to hold onto his horns to steady yourself so you don’t fall forward. he pulls your clit into his hot mouth, wrapping his lips around you, suckling your hard bud in pulses until you’re a whining mess above him. he’s watching you, slowly rutting his aching cock into the air behind you. his magma irises are nearly overtaken by his slitted pupils as you throw your head back and rock your hips. “f-fuck me with your tongue, itto~” he releases your clit with a lewd, wet pop; his black-painted claws drawing blood beneath the surface of your skin when he digs them into your plush ass to pull you harder against his face. he’s all but fucking the air with his drooling cock when he plunges his tongue inside your tight hole. you’re nearly sobbing when your fists tighten around his red horns, using them for leverage to fuck his face. the tip of his nose is bumping against your twitching clit when he growls and you cum hard in his mouth. you’re still clenching helplessly around his prodding tongue when he moans and you feel his long, thick ribbons of hot cum streak across your back.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — KAEYA

your boyfriend is lying on his back, enjoying the attention you’ve been giving to his naked body. you’ve left countless kisses and pretty little marks between his thighs when you press two fingers against his perineum, making him moan shamelessly as he arches his back off the bed. gods, he loves it. you haven’t even touched his dick yet, which is rock hard, twitching and leaking between his open legs. you spit on your fingers where they line up with his ass before massaging his rim. down to a mere shred of dignity, the cavalry captain is uncharacteristically close to begging, thrusting his purple-tipped cock into the air when he bucks his hips in an effort to try and push himself onto your finger as you prod at his tight little hole. he’s gritting his teeth and clenching his fists above his head but when he feels the delectable pressure of your digit finally entering him, his features go slack as a high-pitched sigh leaves his lips. his beautifully-toned arms are flexing, knuckles going white around his pillow while he clenches rhythmically around the tip of your finger as you slowly work it in a little deeper. “nnhmm~ fuck, baby…” he groans, arching his back again, “...give me more…” you tut at him with a light chuckle, “so greedy, kaeya.” but you oblige him. you pull out of him just long enough to add a second finger before pushing inside again, and he gasps. “oh fuck yes~” he brings a hand to your face and you look up at him to meet his heavy-lidded, heterochromatic gaze. his lips are parted and a dark pink blush graces his cheeks. “you look particularly stunning like this, love,” you coo at him, gently pressing deeper inside, “pleasure is definitely your color.” he smiles at you and cups your cheek, pressing his thumb to your lips which you happily welcome inside your mouth to suck on. “it’s all for you, snowflake hahhh~” his eyes roll back when you curl your fingers to press against that telltale soft spot inside of him. you wrap your free hand around his thigh, kissing and sucking new marks there as you gently fuck his puckering hole with your fingers. “ohh…hnn…gods yes!” he keens “fuck me harder, baby~” you thrust into him with increased pressure, tugging harder and harder on his p-spot, watching his dark-skinned balls move in his sac as they draw closer to his body - all while telling him how fucking sexy he looks for you and how you can’t wait to ride his cock. his mouth is open, eyes closed, he’s humping the air again when you feel him tighten around you. “fuck, f-feels so good…i’m- nnggnnfuck! cumming, baby!” his walls squeeze your fingers in hard, rhythmic pulses, his thick cock bouncing lewdly and slinging long ropes of his hot cum across his own chest and abs as he whimpers your name.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — THOMA

you’ve had this sweet boi on his knees for the past hour, completely naked and blindfolded. you’ve touched nearly every inch of his body with some part of your own, but with the clear expectations that 1) he has to keep his hands to himself and 2) he’s not allowed to cum until you tell him to. and he’s done so well. he’s even told you when he was close a few times so you could quickly wrap your fingers around the base of his pretty cock and squeeze it hard to hold his orgasm back. now he’s sitting back on his heels, strong thighs spread open, the rest of his senses in overdrive from the temporary loss of sight. a long, clear thread of precum dangles underneath his shaft as it leaks from his slit in a near-constant drip, making a cute little puddle on the floor between his legs. dark spots are forming in the fabric where the corners of his eyes are watering from the overwhelming-but-unresolved pleasure you’re giving him. you kneel down in front of him, inching your way between his legs until you’re close enough to kiss him. he eagerly kisses you back, chasing your lips when you pull away to suck on his pulse point. he stifles a whine when you lightly pinch his nipple and lovingly lick the new mark you made on his neck. you leave a trail of feather-light kisses along his jawline, making him bite his lip when you stop to nibble playfully at his earlobe. “always such a good, obedient boy for me, thoma,” you whisper, eliciting a hiss from him as you force his rock hard cock down to let the shiny, swollen tip slip between your wet pussy lips and nudge against your clit. “mmm~so hard…your cockhead feels so good, baby,” you coo in his ear. “your cunt…so warm,” he pants, his breath hot on your cheek. “ohhgods, gonna cum!” he warns. you pull away, letting his cock slap against his belly while sliding your fingers down to his base to give him a hard squeeze, but it’s too little too late. thoma tries to fight it, but his body betrays him and his hips begin to thrust involuntarily. he chokes back something between a groan and a whimper while his seed squirts out of his winking cockhole and against his navel before dribbling down his length and over your fingers. “m’sorry, milady,” he pants. “i tried not to…” but you take pity on him and untie his blindfold to find his pretty green eyes pleading with you. “hey,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth, “it’s okay, baby boy. you did so well for me and i’m proud of you.” he presses his forehead to yours and nods before kissing you passionately and lowering you to the floor so he can fuck you properly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ZHONGLI

he’s such a good sport, letting you practice some of the shibari skills he’s taught you…on him. the arm binder you’ve got him in looks beautiful; you take a couple of pictures and show them to him.

“hm, yes, very elegant indeed," he critiques thoughtfully. "your symmetry has greatly improved as well.”

you beam with pride at his praise and kiss his cheek. “thank you, li...although much of the credit goes to my most capable teacher,” you say with a wink.

you take a step back, admiring your work while seeking his reassurance that he’s adequately restrained, but not in any pain. you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make you a little wet - his bare, chiseled arms of onyx and gold bound exquisitely by black jute behind his back. this gives you an idea and you start to undress.

his lips curve into a little smile as you take off your top. “what are you doing, love?” he asks, enjoying the show.

you smirk down at him as you push your shorts down your legs before letting them fall to the floor. “a test,” you say, sitting on the edge of your shared bed just a few feet opposite him. “let’s see just how proficient i’ve become.”

he chuckles lowly as you lean back and spread your legs for him. a faint glow flickers behind his amber eyes as they follow your fingers when they begin to trace light patterns along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. the mouth-watering scent of your arousal hits his nose, sending a dull ache straight to his balls.

he watches intently as your fingers graze your slit, a dark groan forming in his throat when you spread your dewy petals for him. you hum appreciatively as you let your middle finger slide between your folds, collecting your slippery nectar on your fingertip before rolling your clit around with it. he shifts in his chair, a subtle adjustment that provides little more room for his cock to grow.

you let out a quiet moan and he licks his lips as he watches some of your slick trickle out before you gather it on your finger and smooth it over your hardening bud. his cock is getting uncomfortably hard and he’s beginning to get slightly annoyed at the fact that he keeps trying to bring a hand to his front to adjust himself, only to be reminded that he can’t. you even looped the rope through the slatted back of the chair he’s sitting in, so he can’t even stand up. you’re close enough to him that were his arms not bound, he would need only reach out to touch you, but in his current predicament all he can do is watch helplessly as you pleasure yourself.

you look between your legs to see him staring intently, his lips parted, eyes glowing fiercely as he shifts again in his seat. the god formerly known as rex lapis is so mesmerized by your masturbation that he doesn’t notice the mischievous grin that takes shape on your flushed face as you bite your lip. you watch his bright eyes widen when you finally dip a finger inside your tight hole. the sight of your slick coating your finger as you let it sink in all the way to your knuckle makes him huff impatiently. he can already taste you on the back of his tongue when he feels the first bead of his precum leak out onto his thigh.

you thrust your finger slowly a few more times before pulling it out and bringing it to your mouth to suck, only to return it to your cunt and adding a second finger to fuck yourself with. his cock is throbbing painfully in the confines of his pants and he’s desperate for something, anything to rut against.

you’re fingering yourself deeper now, harder, forcing more of your need out around your fingers, drenching your knuckles. your palm is slapping your clit as you raise your hips off the bed. zhongli’s hips start rocking on reflex, the pressure of his slacks pressing his cock against his thigh making him sigh with some semblance of relief. it’s not ideal but he’s so needy that if he doesn’t fuck something he's sure he’ll go mad.

inside his pants, he’s leaking all over his thigh, his swollen cockhead gliding easily through the puddle of precum on his leg and he whines at how good it feels. the warmth of his own skin, the slick of his pre, the texture of his slacks - it’s all too much. “cum! cum for me, darling…” he growls.

“hnnhh~ li? mmgonna cum for you,” you whine, struggling to keep up with your own impending orgasm, but you manage. “fuck! zhongli!” you cry, so worked up over the show you’re giving him that you squirt against your own hand for him.

he’s thrusting faster now, shamelessly rolling his hips, humping his own thigh. “nnhhhfuck…” he groans, the searing coil at the base of his spine about to snap. with just a couple more drags of his cock over his slick thigh, his mouth falls open in a loud moan, his hips jerking as a large wet spot spreads over the leg of his pants. he cums on himself so hard that some of his creamy white nut seeps through the fabric of his dark slacks before dripping down his inner thigh onto the floor below.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — masterlist

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — thank you for reading, loves. please consider reblogging and/or commenting if you enjoyed! smooches for you!

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mikkomacko · 8 days

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Him and I: Meet the Hischiers

Pairing: Mob Boss! Nico x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Nico's crappy parents, and mean girls

A/n: Ok I'm so sorry for how long this is, oh my god. I couldn't not add sweet moments between Nico and reader though, but I promise there's only one more chapter of them in Switzerland before they return to Jersey. Anyway, enjoy and please leave comments and thoughts and requests because I love writing mob boss Nico!

~~~~

Nico’s childhood home is humongous. The SUV rolls up the cobblestone driveway to what you’d consider a mansion, honestly. At least three stories, with fields of snow covered grass and hedges, a looping driveway like at a hotel, and a bright red door.

Everything about it screams elegance.

And yet you can picture a tiny Nico toddling after his older siblings in the grass out front, chasing a soccer ball that was half the size of him.

The mental image eases your nerves enough that you’re able to teasingly scoff and smack at Nico’s arm.

“You didn’t tell me your house is the size of New Jersey!”

Nico rolls his eyes at your drama, taking your hand in his and shrugging. “Yes it’s beautiful,” he agrees “but there’s a reason we’re not staying here. Just remember that, ok?”

Dutifully you nod, but that doesn’t stop you from leaning forward to gape at Timo. Your friend just laughs, directing the car into the spot directly in front of the door.

“The Hischier’s are the closest thing to a royal family here,” he tells you. “And Nico is the delinquent prince that ran away from the crown.”

“Stop lying to her Timo.” Nico interjects, his tone hard and commanding. You immediately sink back into your seat, recognizing that for some reason that was a touchy subject.

You’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

This time when the car stops, it’s different men in wool coats that pull open Nico’s car door. They greet him in Swiss German, nodding as he slides out and you follow, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the stone path.

They look taken aback by your presence, both sharing a look you can’t quite read before greeting you with a simple “miss.”

You smile, wrapping your hand around Nico’s bicep and pressing into his side. Timo falls into step with you, walking alongside as you head for the front door.

Walking into Nico’s childhood home is more like walking into a recently sterilizes hospital room than a house that three children grew up in. Everything is pristine, polished, and pearl white (or beige).

Not a single item in the main room indicates that a family lives here at all. Even the portrait of a man with a thick mustache and sharp nose hanging over the staircase isn’t friendly.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking over at Timo. He must read the look in your eyes because he nods just once, clearing his throat when Nico shoots him a look over the top of your head.

“Come on baby,” Nico tells you, guiding you further into the house. “They’re probably in the sitting room.”

The sitting room is like a living room, only colder and not exactly lived in. His family is scattered around the large room, perched on white overstuffed furniture. The first to greet you is a light haired woman, and as soon as she smiles you know this is his mother.

“Nico darling!” She exclaims in an accented voice, one that resembles his but with a tone of superiority. Rising from the sofa, she waves the man next to her up. Even if you were seeing him through fogged glass you’d be able to tell he’s Nico’s father.

They have the same nose, same dark eyes that crinkle by the edges. He’s shorter and less broad than Nico, but their posture and gait are the same. Even the way his dark grey hair falls is similar to Nico’s.

They’re carbon copies of each other.

“Son,” the man greets, buttoning up his suit jacket. “The rumors were true then?”

“Rumors?” Nico asks, and his lack of greeting to his parents makes your stomach drop. Throughout the entirety of your relationship you never imagined Nico’s relationship with his family to be like this.

“Word from the airport was that you brought a guest.” His mother supplies, a polite smile being thrown at you. You return it, hanging to Nico’s bicep like a lifeline. Suddenly you feel pathetic, a random American girl pressed at the hip to the heir of a mob family that stretches three countries and two continents. Hiding in the shadow casted by not only Nico but Timo as well.

Maybe it’s a good thing Sieges and the others didn’t come along.

“Timo insisted on tagging along,” your boyfriend jokes and if you weren’t so stunned and stupid you would have laughed. “This,” he continues, prying his arm from your hold to wrap around the small of you back “isn’t a guest, she’s family.”

Steeling your nerves, you take a steady step forward. “Y/n,” you introduce, holding your hand out to his father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.”

He takes your hand, squeezing gently as you meet his gaze. For looking so much like his son, he doesn’t actually resemble him. His eyes are threatening and dark rather than comforting and warm like Nico’s. Even the twitch of his lips feels like it was a muscle spasm.

“Rino,” he tells you. “But sir works better.”

You nod in agreement, now reaching out towards his mother. She’s just as calculated when it comes to introducing herself, her tone haughty and amused as she says “Katja.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” you say, smiling warmly despite the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.

“You as well,” she responds, then shoots her son a look. “I’m afraid we haven’t heard much about you y/n, or anything at all for that matter.”

Ignoring the blow, you settle back into Nico’s side. Timo cuts in, greeting them you think but you can’t really hear him over the voice in your head desperately reminding you that Nico loves you, Nico wants you here.

It’s not until Nico’s nose is pressed to your temple that you snap back into reality. “Breathe y/n,” he whispers, his voice just a tickle in your ear but strong and encouraging. “You’re doing perfect.”

Coming back to yourself, you take his hand in thanks as Katja directs her attention to the few men milling about the room. She speaks to them in Swiss German, an order obviously if them scurrying out of the room is anything to go by.

With her and Rino no longer focused on you for the moment, you helplessly look up at Nico. He’s already watching you, not even a hint of a smile on that handsome face of his. Even so, his gaze is solid and proud, and the subtle tilt of his head tells you enough.

It’s ok.

Your breath shudders, feeling weak under those eyes that know and read you so well. You look away, biting at the inside of your cheek to stop the welling feeling of tears. You have to stop before you let your thoughts run too wild, plagued by images of the sweet man before you living under the scrutinizing gazes of this family.

It’s difficult to even picture how he turned into the Nico you know and love.

The return of the workers distracts you, this time a man and woman following behind them. Another copy of Nico, his brother looks like he could be the elder twin of your boyfriend. The hair, the nose, the jawline, the walk. Must be a Hischier man thing.

And the woman, so obviously his sister, physically resembles Katja but her eyes hold that same twinkle that lights up Nico’s eyes.

“Luca, Nina-“ Katja says warmly. “Your brother is here. With guests.”

Nico sighs, anything he might say remaining unspoken when Nina steps between the two sides.

“Family, Mama.” She corrects, sending you a friendly wink. Like a million bricks have been lifted off your shoulders, you visibly relax at her welcoming.

“Nina,” she tells you “you have no idea how excited I am to meet you.”

She doesn’t hold out a hand, instead stretching out both arms to you. Laughing nervously, you accept her embrace, briefly squeezing her in appreciation and introducing yourself.

“Never thought I’d see Nico with such a beautiful woman,” she teases, an underlying sincerity in her words that warms your cheeks. “He must’ve finally learned how to shower properly.”

Nico mockingly laughs behind you, grumbling in his native tongue to his sister but he’s quick to hug her smaller frame. You almost laugh when he tucks into her shoulder, curling in like he’s supposed to be smaller than her. Like a younger sibling that’s forgotten he’s grown to be the tallest.

Luca greets you, not as warmly as Nina but with more friendliness than their parents. He plants two polite kisses to your cheeks, squeezing your biceps awkwardly before jumping into reuniting with Nico. Nina stands by her mother’s side, nodding at you just once as Katja and Rino tell Nico and Luca something you don’t understand.

Resilience renewed, you turn your head to Timo and he leans down so you can whisper in his ear. “You have to teach me something in German, I’m drowning here.”

He chuckles quietly, leaning into your ear. “I’ll try again but I’m not a miracle worker honey.” You blink at him, jabbing your elbow into him in annoyance. He does it back, jolting you and your gearing up to hit him back when a firm hand is reaching around your back and taking a hold of your elbow.

Easily and swiftly, Nico pulls you into his side. By the way Timo straightens up, you’d imagine he’s been silently scolded by his boss. Smirking, you bat your eyelashes at him and innocently press into Nico’s hold.

“We’ve prepared lunch, if you’re hungry.” Katja offers but she’s already directing everyone to another room. The three of you follow obediently, not having any other option really.

~~~~

Lunch is better than the family reunion that took place in the sitting room. With the distraction of food and a cook and his siblings, Katja and Rino don’t even spare you a second glance or get a chance to grill Nico about anything.

Anytime the Devs or New Jersey comes up, Luca or Nina will steer the conversation away. You’re sure it has something to do with everyone avoiding the topic of Nico’s leave of absence and lack of contact for the past few years, but you can’t be certain because it’s never said.

Nico has a hand on you throughout the whole meal, either lacing his fingers with yours or resting comfortably on your thigh. He makes sure that you eat enough, that your water is ok, that you don’t want more helpings. It’s sweet, the way he always communicates through his actions. Maybe he didn’t prepare you enough for this encounter like he should’ve, but physically he’s been here and done everything to let you know that he has your back.

Besides, after listening to his family carefully navigate around unsavory topics over lunch, you can see why he struggles with words.

Especially when his mother is hell bent on making it uncomfortable. The plates have barely been cleared away when she’s zeroing in on her youngest.

“I suppose it’s time you tell us why you’ve come back,” she says airily. “Or rather why you left?”

Nico’s fingers tighten around yours, eyelids fluttering in annoyance as he suppresses an eye roll. “Mother-“

“Everything was set up Nico,” she cuts in. “The house, the branch, Len-“

“That’s enough!” He cuts off gruffly, silencing Katja. You stroke your thumb over his knuckle, unsure of how to navigate him like this in front of his family. It’s different at home where you have a place, where it’s your job to step in and protect the boys from his angry bouts. But this is different, uncharted. You don’t have a spot in the lives of his family let alone a place to interject. Hell, you don’t even know the context of why Nico left either.

“Watch the tone Nico,” Rino says casually, “that’s your mother.”

Sighing, Nico shakes his head. “I’m here for the week, take it or leave it. And I didn’t come to answer questions you already have the answer for.”

You watch him look around the large table, meeting everyone gaze with a firmness he only gets on jobs and deals. When he receives a simple hum from his mother, he turns to you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says quietly, rising from his seat. You follow his lead, pushing your chair back in and sharing a nervous look with Timo.

Nico addresses his parents. “I’m gonna show y/n around the grounds.” Then he’s nudging you towards the hall, large hand on your back as you go.

“Put on a coat Nico!” His mother calls after you and he waves over his head in acknowledgment. You’re silent all the way back to the front door, putty in Nico’s hands as he zips you into your winter coat and slips his beanie over your head.

Returning the favor, the zip his own coat for him, adjusting the collar and hood so his ears and neck stay warm.

Nico doesn’t return to being your Nico until the side door of the house is closing behind you. Immediately he’s attaching himself to you, hunching down to wrap his arms around your waist and tuck his face into your neck. Rising to your toes, you bundle your arms around him as best you can with all the thick winter layers between you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the cold air and just hold him for a moment. You don’t let go until he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, straightening out his posture and looking at you with those moony eyes of his.

“Show me the grounds,” you mock in a posh voice giggling when he rolls his eyes and offers his elbow to you. Taking ahold of him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and let him guide you down the shoveled paths.

The grounds stretch on forever, through untouched wooded land and open plains of snow. Nico shows you a tennis court, a basketball court, the indoor hockey setup him and Luca used religiously as children. You trudge through the snow with him, winter air nipping at your nose and dry lips aching as your awe of the place kept growing and growing. Every ten steps was something new, some fond memory Nico’s dug up of his childhood.

“I almost broke my ankle trying to do cartwheels,” Nico laughs, gaze sweeping over the open area in which Nina apparently tried to teach Nico gymnastics. “She hadn’t even done gymnastics herself, but I wanted her to think I was cool so I did it.”

Giggling, you shake your head at him. “You can’t do a cartwheel?” You ask incredulously. Nico scoffs, shaking his head like it should be obvious. Releasing his arm, you strut to the open space in front of him and throw your arms up.

“Watch and learn Nico baby.” You tease, winking before executing a perfect cartwheel. The snow is cold on your hands, bites at your fingers but you do a couple more anyway just to show off.

Nico exclaims in surprise, staring at you with his jaw dropped and dimples in his cheeks. “Alright, just rub it in my face!” He complains and you laugh, giving him a bow. Leaning down he scoops up some snow, quickly packing it together. You have just enough time to curl into yourself before he’s throwing it at your torso.

Squealing, you dig your numb hands into the snow to throw one back. Dodging and ducking through laughter, you and Nico pelt each other with snow until your hands are so frozen you think they might fall off.

In surrender, you leap at him and throw your arms around his neck. The shock of your bitter cold fingers on his bare skin makes him jump and he goes crashing to the ground, taking you with him.

Luckily he breaks your fall, and the snow breaks his so it’s still giggles when you cup his jaw, sitting up to check him for injuries. He’s got snow in his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks and nose glowing red as he bites at his bottom lip to try and contain his smile.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper, the words mostly spoken to yourself but in the large, silent estate they carry. Nico’s cheeks redden even more, eyes glimmering with love. Then, thinking of the cold man from whom Nico got his looks, you quickly add “inside and out.”

His face falls with realization, a look of sympathy flashing through his eyes. Not that he should be sympathetic about anything, these people didn’t raise you. “I should’ve warned you,” he says “I just didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want you to think I don’t love them because I do, they’re just different.”

The snow has begun soaking into your pants, stinging your skin and you imagine Nico’s butt must be just as cold. Yet he makes no move to get up, just stares up at you from the ground with those all-telling eyes of his.

“You warned me,” you say “maybe not intentionally but you did.” From wasting away the morning with you to the way he always had a protective hand on you today, Nico warned you the best way he knows how. With protective actions.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, you ask “wanna talk about it?” Nico sighs, cheeks puffing up as he does so and the cloud of his breath dances in between you. He agrees though, nodding for you to get up so you climb off his lap and take his hand to help him up.

Nico takes both of your hands in his, squeezing them before drawing the up to his lips. Eyebrows pinched together in concentration, he breathes hot hair in an attempt to warm them up for you. After a moment he squeezes them again, frowning when they’re still too cold for his liking.

Giggling, you pull your hands back and hug his arm. “I’m ok, let’s just go back and we can talk somewhere warm.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Nico agrees. Oblivious to the figure looming on the balcony that overlooks the grounds, he leads you back towards the house, feet crunching in the snow.

~~~~

Clothes sopping wet and cold, you shuffle into Nico’s old bedroom and immediately begin shedding your winter layers. Unsure of everyone else’s whereabouts in the house, Nico closes the door and locks it before he too strips out of his clothes.

In just his boxers he disappears into the closet and you take the opportunity to look around his room. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, a fluffy blue quilt that matches the accent wall covering it. An old ratty teddy bear sits on the bed, looking out the large window across the room. The view is beautiful, snow covered mountains and white topped trees. There’s a desk in the corner, the top of it empty but the shelves have a few books and childhood awards scattered on them.

You tiptoe over, notice most of the awards have a soccer or hockey player on them. There’s one of a boy snowboarding and one engraved with a book, and though you can’t read them inscription, the year on them tells you that Nico was under 16 when he won all these.

A photo you’ve seen on his phone is hung up next to the desk, Luca and Nina holding a baby Nico on a beach somewhere, all chubby cheeks and blonde hair.

A poster of a Swiss tennis player hangs next to the bed, a few more photos scattered around the room. You don’t get the chance to examine them because Nico strolls back into the room with a ball of clothes in his hands.

“Not sure when these were last washed but it should be fine,” he shrugs, dropping the mess of items to the bed. He digs out a pair of boxers, some dark sweats, and a long sleeve for you. You happily accept the dry clothes, stripping out of your damp underwear and bra.

Nico’s Calvin’s are a little tight when you shimmy them up you hips but not uncomfortable. You pull the sweats on, rolling the waistband so they don’t hang over your feet. It’s not until you’re tugging the shirt over your head that you notice Nico is standing butt naked across from you, boxers in hand as he shamelessly watches you change.

Knowing where this going, you quickly pull the shirt on, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Put that thing away and start talking Hischier.”

He chuckles, beginning to get dressed. You sit on the bed, reaching over for the teddy and pulling it into your lap. “What do you want to know?”

“I know how you ended up in Jersey,” you say, fingers rubbing at the soft fabric of the bears ear. “Inheritance from your grandfather and wanting to get away from here. But I always thought it was because you’re the youngest, ya know? You like to be in charge and you can’t do that with Luca and Nina being in line for everything,”

Nico lets you talk, pulling on his teeshirt and settling into the bed next to you.

“But your parents said everything was lined up. What did they mean?”

Nico sighs, eyes dropping to his lap and he fiddles with the tie on his sweats. You turn to look at him, walking the teddy bear across the mattress and plopping it in his lap. He doesn’t look at you but a dimple sinks into his cheek and he takes the bear from you.

“My parents were trying to branch out, stretch the business like they did sending Nina to France. They had this whole mock up of me using my inheritance to move to Germany and head everything there.

“But they wanted to send someone with me. This girl whose father does business with mine. We had a thing kind of when we’re younger, not dating but like when I wanted to be with someone she was there. So they added a wedding to the plan and invited her to join the family.”

There’s no reason to be jealous of this girl, whoever she is. You know that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling a little nauseous thinking of his family picking out a wife for him.

“What did you say?” You murmur, slipping your fingers under his shirt and stroking the warm skin of his stomach. Nico picks at a thread on the bear, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing, to them. I took the money and some buddies and left. Told Nina I was starting my own family in Jersey, that I didn’t want to be married or in Germany.

“That’s how I got Timo, Sieges, and Bratter to join me. We’d all been friends for a while and they hated the girl. My parents didn’t know, but she’d been after Luca the whole time she was with me. He was too focused on taking over here in Switzerland though. That’s why she wanted him, she wanted to be the queen or whatever of Switzerland. “

“Why’d she agree to marry you then?”

Nico looks up now, shrugging. You inch closer to him, stomach feeling sick and he must know you don’t particularly like to hear this story because he nudges you into his lap. Straddling his thighs, you relax forward into his chest and let him wrap his arm around you.

“Because one of us was better than neither I guess. I had a feeling she assumed she could marry me and then convince me to push Luca out or something. I don’t know but I didn’t say a word to her either, I just left.”

You nod, the joke Timo made in the car earlier finally adding up. Nico was the prince lined up to be married and grow the business, to make his family stronger. Instead he took his power and his means elsewhere. He built his own kingdom.

“I think you’re so smart Nico,” you mumble, “not many 18 year old boys would be able to do what you did.”

Nico tucks the bear into your chest and you hug it. “I had help,” he says “but it was the best decision I ever made. I got you from it.”

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting you two. You feel him reach over for it, holding you tighter as he leans over.

“Nina invited us to go out tonight for drinks,” he says. “She wants to have fun without my parents around.”

“Is Timo invited?”

“Yes, Timo is invited.” Nico laughs, stroking your hair.

“Ok. I have to go home for new clothes though.”

Nico hums his agreement, still stroking your hair. You cuddle into him, hugging the teddy bear tighter as you sort through everything he told you. It’s impossible for you to see how some girl had Nico right in front of her, was lined up to spend the rest of her life with him and instead made him feel unwanted.

How could anyone not pick him? How was she not begging on her knees to run away to Jersey with him?

“Nico?”

“Yes baby?”

“I want you,” you whisper. “I always have and I always will. I’d do anything for you.”

You think of everything you’ve given up for Nico, the life you’d left behind for him and it doesn’t even phase you. Because he’s worth it, always worth it.

“Trust me, I know my love,” he assures but you can hear the relief in his tone. Then he’s giggling boyishly, digging his nose into the top of your head. “I knew as soon as met you that there was no getting rid of you.”

Blushing, you close your eyes and enjoy his embrace, enjoying a moment with just him.

~~~~

Luca owns the bar that Nina had invited you too. Technically the business owns it, but it was Luca’s investment plan that acquired it and it’s his staff that runs it.

You find that out as Nico leads you by the hip to the sectioned off tables in the back. Luca and a few other guys mill about the table, some you recognize from seeing around the house today. Nina is there too, her long hair pulled back into a slick pony and she’s sipping from a fruity cocktail with a blonde girl.

“You made it!” Luca greets upon seeing his brother, his demeanor much more welcoming and laidback than earlier. You let go of Nico’s hand so he can hug Luca again, his eyes crinkling as he laughs.

Timo bro-hugs Luca before disappearing back into the common area, most likely heading to the bar. You’re reaching for Nico’s hand again when Luca crouches down to meet your gaze, glossy eyes and smile shining at you.

He looks so much like Nico.

“There she is!” He shouts, charging you with open arms. You laugh in shock when he scoops you up in a hug, drink sloshing against your back as he sways back and forth.

“Hi Luca,” you giggle, awkwardly rubbing your hand up and down his back. “Nice to see you again.”

He drops you to your feet, gripping your elbow when you stumble. Not that it’s needed; Nico’s hand found your lower back as soon as your toes touched the polished floors.

“You know, I never understood why Nico loved Jersey so much,” he shouts over the music and chatter “but I get it now. I like you a lot even if my parents don’t.”

You’re not shocked to hear that but you dramatically gasp anyway. “Your parents don’t like me?!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart. “What’ll we ever do?”

Luca laughs at you, taking a swig of his beer before shaking his head fondly. “Fuck ‘em,” he says casually “Nico’s better off with you anyway.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, flattered by the praise. You were hesitant about Luca earlier, not knowing if he liked you or not. He was harder to read than Nico and Nina but you assume that’s the oldest sibling in him.

Without another word he’s walking away, stumbling towards the pool tables with some friends. Nico leans in over your shoulder, nose brushing your temple.

“He’s a friendly drunk,” he explains “but he really does like you.”

You turn towards him. “He’s funny,” you say “I like him too.”

Pressing the lightest kiss to your cheekbone, Nico nods towards the bar. “Something with vodka?” He asks and you peek around him at Nina.

“I want what Nina is drinking.”

Amused, he nods and takes you by the hand. He approaches the booth, leaning over towards his sister to mumble something in her ear. You don’t hear what she says back but Nico straightens out, stepping out of the way and nudging you to sit down. Happily, you slide into the seat next to Nina and accept her giddy hug.

Nico sweeps your hair over your shoulder, squeezing your neck briefly before going to get your drink.

“Oh this is Maja,” Nina introduces you to her friend. You reach over the table to shake her hand and introduce yourself.

“I’m with Luca,” Maja tells you, her pretty blue eyes sparkling. “Sorry I missed lunch today, I tend to skip those gatherings as often as I can.”

“I totally understand!” You laugh,” I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

Nina gasps, gripping your arms as she beams at you. “You’re gonna come back?!”

Giggling, you nod. “Well yeah, I know Nico misses you and Luca and it hasn’t been bad. Besides, it’s beautiful here!”

“You have to visit in the summer!” Maja tells you, “we can make fondue and float the river.”

Nina agrees telling you all about how that was Nico’s favorite thing to do when he was younger. Then she’s inviting you to France, telling you all about the beautiful French men and how much you’d love them.

You let her chatter on, laughing at her antics. French men aren’t exactly your forte, especially not when you’re dating a Swiss man but you can remind her about that later.

“Nina,” Nico interrupts, placing your drink in front of you. “are you trying to set my prinzessin up with a Frenchie?”

Sliding in next to you, he wraps his arm around your stomach and draws you back into his chest. His sister gapes at him, so shocked by his words she’s gone speechless and you shyly sip your drink.

“Prinzessin, Nico!” She gasps, holding her heart. Nina tells him something in Swiss German, reaching around you to excitedly shove her brother.

His response is also lost on you but you can tell by Nina’s moony eyes and how he hunches into you that it was something loving and sweet. “Soon, soon.” Nico finally says, taking a drink of his beer and setting it next to yours.

“Hey don’t talk about me when I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Laughing, Nico presses a kiss to your temple. “Sorry baby,” he says, squeezing your shoulders. You turn to face him, sliding your leg over his lap.

“You didn’t tell me about Maja,” you murmur, fiddling with the straw in your drink. Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, lips pursing in confusion as he looks around the bar.

“Who?”

“Nico oh my god,” you gasp “Luca’s girlfriend-wife-whatever?”

Some clarity washes over his face and he giggles, glancing across the booth to Maja. Lowering his lips to your ear, “I thought her name was Maria,” he whispers and you laugh.

“I don’t know, Luca got with her after I left and he’s not chatty on the phone. For all I know he’s already married her.”

You look over your shoulder at her hand. “No ring,” you tell him “and I don’t think he’d get married without telling you.”

Nico shrugs, taking a swig of his beer before holding it out to you. You slide him your drink, trying the tangy beer he’s been nursing. It’s not bad but beer isn’t your favorite so you quickly hand it back.

“That’s sweet,” Nico says, smacking his lips and returning it to you. “Too sweet, Jesus Christ.” You laugh, snacking an arm around his shoulders and digging your fingers into the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, guiding him closer to you. Smirking, those dark eyes of his dance across your face before settling on your lips. He does the rest of the work for you, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back and swiping his tongue across his lips. “Better.”

His voice has that gruffness to it, heavy and thick, and not just because his accent is stronger now that he’s home. It makes your neck and ears feel hot, stomach flipping.

“No PDA in my bar Nico!” Luca’s shouting makes you jump, almost knocking Nico’s beer across the table and him and Timo snicker as they sit across from you.

“Bar PDA is his favorite,” Timo laughs, winking at you. “How do you think they ended up together?”

You can’t even argue with him. Nico is notorious for being handsy, especially when he’s out and drinking.

“Really?” Luca hums, slinging an arm around Maja. “It used be like pulling teeth just to get him to look at girl around here.”

And well, that’s news to you. Although you suppose if he planned on leaving Switzerland anyway and he had that girl to fool around with whenever he wanted, what’s the point? You’re well aware that he was never looking for love.

Nico quickly changes the topic, asking Timo about his day with his family tomorrow and you join Nina and Maja as they sift through songs on the online jukebox to play.

The queue stacks up, your drink starts to run out, and Nico leaves with Timo and his brother to go play pool. Nina leaves the phone with Maja, taking you by the hand to the bar where she orders more drinks and drops them on Nico’s tab. Not that it matters, you doubt he pays for drinks here anyway.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom,” you tell her, and she takes your drink back to the closed off section. The bathrooms are in the opposite back corner, a group of girls huddled in front of the door so you line up behind them.

Your phone buzzes in hand, Nico’s contact lighting up the screen and you almost laugh. Of course he noticed you were missing.

I’ve lost my pretty girl

Biting your lip, you text back bathroom break ♥️

The typing dots pop up and you’re anxiously awaiting his response when the conversation around you catches your attention. Specifically the mention of Nico’s name.

“He’s still as hot as ever,” a dark haired girl in front of you comments, and you keep your eyes on your phone so they don’t think you’re eavesdropping.

“Do you think she’s actually with him or is that just another fuck you to his parents?”

Nico’s text comes through, but you can’t focus enough to read it. “I mean, she doesn’t look his type so who knows. Didn’t he say he wasn’t into commitment Lena?”

Out of the corner of your eye, a tall and leggy brunette twirls her hair around her finger and shrugs. “If he were into commitment don’t you think he’d be with me right now? It’s definitely just to piss off his parents, I mean did you see the size of her? Typical American girl.”

Suddenly you feel sick, like everything you’ve ever eaten is choking up in your throat and about to spew all over the mean girls in front of you.

“I heard he put her in the family,” a quieter voice says. “Timo was talking about it at the bar with Luca. He’s calling her his princess.”

The leader-Lena, scoffs. “Princess? She hasn’t even got a pendent let alone a ring.”

Maybe this why Nico doesn’t talk about his exes. They’re mean and petty little girls, girls that haven’t moved on in over 5 years. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.

“Probably another one of his deals. He fucks her, she pretends to be serious with him for a family trip.”

“Why would he decide to come back now with a fake girlfriend?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lena laughs, loud and proud. “He must have heard that I’m back at the estate.”

You decide that’s enough, pocketing your phone and clearing your throat. All the girls jump at the noise, turning to face you and you smile.

“Are you in line for the bathroom or just gossiping?” You ask politely, smirking as the color drains from all their faces. All except Lena, who looks you up and down before sheepishly nodding for you to go ahead.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say, stopping in the doorway to look at her. “You’d think Luca would have bathrooms strictly for family but I guess not.”

Embarrassed, they all laugh awkwardly and you close the door behind you. What the fuck?

~~~~

By the time you’ve returned to the booth, you’ve shaken off the word of those girls. You trust Nico, you know Nico loves you, and high school bullies that pick on girls weight and nationality aren’t going to change that.

Nico is still playing pool, but he catches your eye and winks as you settle in next to Nina. Smirking, you blow him a kiss before Nina is handing you music rights. Sipping on your drink, you pull up your playlist on your phone and find the Swiss songs Nico likes. Adding his favorite to the queue you hand the phone back.

“How do you know that song?” Maja asks you, chewing on the end of her straw. You take another sip of yours.

“Nico plays it every time we’re in the car.” You say, catching the eye of Lena over Maja’s shoulder. She simply raises an eyebrow you, throwing back whatever shot is in hand and purses her lips.

“Hey, do you guys know her?” You suddenly ask, nodding towards the bar where Lena is now perched over the top to steal cherries from behind the counter.

“Oh,” Nina mumbles, laughing awkwardly. “Rino does business with her father and uh…”

“She was into Nico?” You supply, glancing over at your boyfriend. Maja bites her lip, hesitantly nodding.

“She was supposed to marry him.” Nina tells you, lowering her gaze to the table. Suddenly it all clicks; the comments about sleeping with him, about him not committing, about using me.

The song changes, the beat immediately catching the attention of Nico who stands up taller and looks over at you. You smile, wiggling your fingers at him as Nina laughs.

“I never thought Nico could be so romantic.” Maja teases you, not that you get it. The rap song is lost on you, any translation you’ve tried to look up being even more confusing. So you just enjoy the beat of it usually.

“What?”

Nina laughs, finally realizing that you can’t understand Swiss German. “It’s a love song,” she tells you, and then she’s pulling up the lyrics and translating them for you.

It’s a lot of nonsense, cute tidbits about how the artist loves the habits and traits of his lover. But the chorus is sweet, a declaration of him finding love after being told he would always be on his own.

Unable to help yourself, you swallow down the rest of your drink and scramble out of the booth. Nico is watching you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as you approach him. He’s leaning on the pool stick but as soon as you get close he’s moving it aside.

You crash into him, bury your nose in his hoodie and holding his waist tightly. “What’s her deal?” Luca slurs, but he goes ignored. Nico squeezes you just once, swaying side to side in time with the song.

Closing your eyes, you think of him singing along in the car, humming it in the shower while he washes your hair for you, blasting it through the house when you two clean together.

“Who translated it for you?” He finally murmurs, his smile present in his tone.

“Your sister,” you say, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. He’s all white teeth and dimples when you meet his gaze, eyes glimmering with pride. “Her and Maja think you’re very romantic.”

Nico shrugs but doesn’t argue. The pool balls clink behind you and then Timo is hollering. “Game over Luca, pay up.”

Luca mutters something in Swiss, heading to the bar with his head low. You let go of Nico, giving Timo a chance to high five you both.

“Let me teach you to play,” Nico tells you, handing you the pool stick. You follow him to the end of the table, letting him show you how to rack up the balls. Timo chalks up your stick for you, tells you about the cue ball.

And you go about your night, teaming up with Nico to play Timo. He stands behind you for every shot, large hands over yours on the pool stick and his warm chest tight against your back.

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you that you don’t even notice the staring eyes of Lena and her friends.

And you don’t bring her up to Nico, though you probably should’ve.

~~~~

#nico hischier #mob boss Nico Hischier #nico hischer x reader #mob boss au #Him and I #nhl #new jersey devils #nj devils #fluff

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lilyway · 3 months

Text

Icarus {Alastor x Reader} Part 1

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Sequel

Part 1: The Road Back to You

The town was cloaked in a dimly lit embrace as a young woman emerged from the confines of the jazz club alongside her coworkers. Their rising star, a vision of elegance and charm, illuminated the night with her radiant smile, her presence akin to that of a belle of the ball, her heart as vibrant as the melodies she sang.

As they stepped onto the cobblestone streets, the camaraderie among them blossomed into animated chatter, punctuated by laughter that danced upon the evening breeze.

Tonight was special, a rare occasion when the jazz club closed its doors early to commemorate the birthday of their esteemed boss. The air buzzed with anticipation, the promise of celebration lingering in every corner as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets.

Their songstress was quick as she pulled her purse to her side and started walking away while saying her goodbyes. She had some very important plans with her husband, perhaps she was too excited as she practically skipped her way down the street.

As she traversed the dimly lit street of New Orleans, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of caution that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. The presence of a serial killer, a phantom lurking in the shadows, cast a long shadow over the once-vibrant city.

Each night, as she tuned in to her husband's somber voice on the radio, recounting the grim details of yet another victim claimed by the darkness, she couldn't help but wonder if she, too, danced perilously close to the edge of danger.

The danger that would come and soon claim her own life to their ever-increasing number of victims. But, there would be nothing in the world to stop her from returning to her husband. Her husband said he had something planned for their anniversary and that she would need her best dress.

She was beyond excited.

"(Name)! Sugar, are you sure I can’t give you a lift home?" Rowan's voice called out from the doorway, his Southern drawl carrying the warmth of a bourbon-soaked evening. (Name) turned, her smile as dazzling as a string of pearls, her curls bouncing with the rhythm of a Charleston beat.

"Thank you kindly, Rowan! My husband will be meeting me halfway," She replied, her words dripping with honey. With a graceful wave, she turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels blending with the syncopated melody of the night as she made her way toward the radio station.

The dim glow of the radio station beckoned in the distance, the building was a beacon of safety amidst the dark empty city streets. With each hurried step, (Name)'s heart quickened, the anticipation of her husband's waiting embrace urging her onwards.

As she rounded the corner, her gaze caught sight of the alleyway, a narrow passage veiled in darkness, where the plaintive cries of a woman pierced the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, without a second thought, she veered from her path, drawn by her concern for the unknown woman.

There, amidst the shadows, she found them – a young girl, trembling with fear, and her mother shielding her from a group of thugs that loomed over them.

She should have turned away, and retreated to the safety of the main street, where she could’ve asked for help. Her husband knew his way around self-defense and they would have a phone to call the police.

But (Name) had a terrible feeling in her gut. If she left them now, these women might not be alive when help arrives.

"What do you gents reckon you're up to?" That seemed to get their attention as they turned to face her. As she walked towards the two women, she couldn’t help feeling so small as the men dwarfed her in size.

"Turn back, doll," one of the men jeered, his tone dripping with menace. "We ain't lookin' for trouble."

(Name) positioned herself between the two trembling women and the menacing thugs, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. "Leave these poor dames be! If it's coin you're after, I can see you compensated," Her declaration must have seemed like a bluff. Her voice quivered as she placed one hand on her purse.

The thugs, their laughter echoing in the narrow alley, closed in on her, their intentions clear as the moonlight filtered through the darkness. "This ain't about the scratch, sweetheart," one of them sneered, the glint of malice dancing in his eyes. (Name)'s breath caught in her throat as she took a cautious step back, her resolve tested by the looming threat that surrounded her. "This is about settlin' scores."

"Please, just let them be," (Name) pleaded, but her words fell upon deaf ears, drowned out by their laughter. Their leader pulled out a blade as he approached the crying women.

Before she could react, one of the men seized her arm in a vice-like grip, wrenching her aside with a savage force. "Just watch, my dear," Another man sneered, his voice dripping with malice as (Name) struggled against his hold.

With a surge of adrenaline, (Name) pushed his hand toward her mouth, her teeth sinking into flesh with a ferocity that seemed downright foreign to her. As he howled in agony, she wrenched herself free from his grasp, her heart was beating loudly in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight.

With trembling hands, she lunged toward their assailant, her fingers grappling for purchase upon the blade. The metal bit into her skin, drawing blood, but she was beyond desperate, driven to protect the helpless young women.

“Run!” (Name) shouted as they stared at her like deers in headlights.

Even as she fought with every fiber of her being, the odds stacked against her, (Name) refused to yield. She could feel the sharp sting of pain as the blade cut into her hands, but she pressed on, fueled by sheer determination and the fierce resolve to survive.

Meanwhile, the two women forced themselves to their feet and ran, their cries for help echoing through the alleyway. (Name) couldn’t help but feel a smirk on her lips, before another man pulled her hair back trying to claw her hands away from the blade.

With every ounce of strength she could muster, she battled against the relentless onslaught, her hands slick with sweat and blood as she grappled for control. But in the end, it was a futile struggle, a desperate fight that meant nothing. As the assailant's blade found its mark, plunging deep into her flesh.

As (Name)’s body fell to the ground, there was the sound of fleeing footsteps and gunfire. All she could do was close her eyes and pray the pain went away. All she could do was lay there and feel her blood pool around her as she choked on the blade as her blood suffocated her lungs.

She was so close to seeing her beloved radio host too.

The sound of footsteps running towards her and her name came after. The voice was too distant to hear as she drifted off and prayed she’d see her beloved radio host when she woke up.

💟

As (Name)'s eyes fluttered open, she found herself standing before majestic golden gates, their brilliance illuminating the ethereal surroundings with a celestial glow. A wave of disbelief washed over her as she pushed herself up, half-expecting to feel the sting of pain or the weight of wounds that should have marked her body. But there was nothing – no trace of blood, no lingering ache – only a sense of surreal tranquility that enveloped her being.

Clad in a flowing white dress reminiscent of the ones she wore during her performances at the jazz club, her hair cascading down her back like a river of silk, she realized at the start that this was no hospital. It wasn’t a place that could be built by man and that started to make her panic.

"Where am I?" Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she spoke aloud, her eyes searching the expanse before her. And then, as if in response to her query, an angelic figure with a thick book turned towards her, his presence confirmed her fears. This wasn’t New Orleans.

"You're in heaven! Congratulations, you're a winner!" His words, spoken with pride and joy, hung in the air like a gentle breeze, filling the space with a sense of awe and wonder. But for (Name), the revelation struck like someone poured ice water all over her.

"No. No. No, no, no, no." Her voice cracked as felt her legs turn to jelly. This was not a dream, not a figment of her imagination – she was dead. She died saving those two women on the eve of her anniversary. “I wasn’t supposed to die like this! I have to go back! My husband! Good heavens, I’m not ready to leave him yet…” Her begging seemed to have no effect as the angel got up out of his chair.

(Name)’s tears seemed to touch the man, but it didn’t faze him whatsoever. “This is the end of the road, miss. There’s only joy from here.”

"Please, let me go back!" Her plea, filled with anguish and longing, echoed through the hallowed halls of heaven, a desperate cry for a second chance, for a return to the life she had been torn away from. As she crumpled to the ground, her hands pressed against her tear-streaked face, she grappled with the cruel irony of her fate – a life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

As (Name) crumpled before the gates of Heaven, her sobs seemed to never end. "Please, let me return to my old life," she implored, her voice choking on her despair of dying so easily.

"Shh, my dear," came the gentle reply, a soothing murmur amidst the tumult of her anguish.

"I'm begging you. Let me go back," she persisted, her voice trembling with a fervent plea for a reprieve, for a chance for a rewrite, for her to choose something different.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. This is the end of the road, the culmination of the life you were promised for all the good you've done in this world," the angel explained, his tone tinged with a solemn finality that brooked no argument.

"Let me see my husband! I haven't said goodbye!" (Name)'s words, tinged with desperation, hung in the air like a prayer unanswered, her heart aching for one last embrace, one final moment of solace in the arms of her beloved.

"Again, I'm sorry. But that isn't possible, "The angel replied, his voice tinged with sympathy. "But, may I ask your name?"

"(Name)," she replied, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled herself up off the floor.

"Full name, please," the angel persisted, his gaze unwavering, as he started flipping through the book and sighed at all the names on the page.

"(Name) Winters," she confessed, her last name was a reminder of happier days. The day she joined her husband's family and took on his last name.

With a gentle rustle of pages, the angel consulted the book before him, his expression softening as he found her name inscribed upon its hallowed pages. "There you are, on the list," he confirmed, his voice tinged with reassurance. "Dry your tears, my dear, and come on in."

"But, my husband-" (Name) was quickly interrupted by the angel.

"He might show up in heaven someday," the angel offered, “As long as he doesn’t end up in hell. There’s a chance he might come back.”

As (Name) gazed upon the gates of Heaven, her heart was heavy, wanted to be able to greet him with a smile. “Okay.”

💟

The celestial streets of heaven bustled with the vibrant energy of joyous winners, their laughter and song echoing through the golden expanse. Yet, amidst the revelry, (Name) found herself perched on her rooftop, a quiet observer of the lively scene below. Today, the usual melodies and dance numbers failed to lift her spirits.

As she leaned over the balcony, the celestial breeze playing with her hair, (Name) contemplated the passage of time, and how meaningless it truly was. There was no sense of actual time in this place. She would’ve been here for a week or twenty years.

How long had she been in this place of eternal bliss? The passing of time seemed to blur into an endless expanse of moments, each one blending seamlessly into the next. Her parents had found their way here, as had her little sister, their laughter and love echoing through the hallowed halls of heaven.

And yet, her brothers remained conspicuously absent, their absence a silent ache that gnawed her. Enough time must have gone by for them to show up. They couldn’t have ended up anywhere else other than in heaven! They were around the same age as her husband and would come up around the same time.

As she leaned over the balcony, the angels below danced and sang of pastries and delights, their voices like honeyed nectar amidst the gentle breeze. But for (Name), their songs felt hollow, their melodies unable to penetrate the veil of sorrow that pulled her under.

Even in her sorrow, there was a little flame of hope that flickered brightly. Perhaps, she thought, a song could indeed work wonders, lifting her from the depths of her melancholy.

As (Name)'s voice trembled with emotion, her words carried her pain along the wind. "I never needed anybody in my life, " As the notes danced upon the wind, images flickered in her mind.

Her husband's brown fluffy hair, tousled by the gentle breeze, his charismatic smile lighting up the streets as they walked arm in arm. How her days were bright and simple back then. With the minor inconveniences and the small pleasures it held.

"I learned the truth too late, " she continued, her voice wavered as the tears threatened to fall. With each verse, the distance between them felt like an impassable chasm, one that would pull her into its lonely depths.

As she pulled herself away from the edge of the balcony, her eyes remained fixed upon the golden gates. How she was starting to despise herself and her self-pity here.

Her words became a lament, a melody of longing and her pain as she wished for her old life back. " I close my eyes but he's still there, " Her voice trembling as the image of her beloved husband materialized before her.

He was bathed in a golden light making him appear as a gift from God himself. She craned her neck up to look at him and there was a surge of hope. (Name) reached out to hold him and cry into his arms. Only to watch him vanish in the wisp of glowing smoke at the smallest touch of her fingertips.

“Even as he fades from view,” Her voice quickly got louder with every passing syllable.

You’re never fully dressed without a smile, my dear. His voice echoed loud and clear in her mind as she forced a smile on her face as the tears forced themselves out. "He will still inspire me, and be a part of everything I do,"

As she pulled herself onto the balcony railing, her wings unfurled and she jumped off the edge. She watched the other winners sing and dance below her as they enjoyed their eternal life. However, (Name) had another plan in mind. She set out for the gates as she stumbled her landing as she arrived.

"Wasting in my lonely tower, awaiting by an open door," she sang, her voice rising like a prayer into the heavens above. And as she reached out towards the gates, her fingers brushed against the gilded bars, and her small flicker of hope died instantly.

There wasn’t anyone at the gates and she was just being delusional. He wasn’t coming up here anymore. That her dear, Al was still back on earth and it was a place (Name) wished he stayed.

"I'll fool myself and he'll walk right in," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tried to maintain some level of internal harmony. Her hands clung to the bars hoping the gates would open and let her out. Just five more minutes on earth and she would gladly join the rest of the winners. “Waiting here for evermore…”

But her solitude was shattered by the harsh voice of an angel, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "You're pathetic," she sneered, her tone dripping with disdain. "If he isn't here by now, he's in hell."

"That was quite uncalled for.” (Name) spat as she walked past her. She could tell this woman had something up her sleeve and she wanted no part of it.

“I call it as I see it,” the woman retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. No, that wasn’t right. This woman was downright looking down at her like she was a piece of garbage.

(Name) scoffed as she tried to keep herself focused on just walking away. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

“Better than singing her problems,” The woman shot back, her words stabbed daggers into her feet and rooted her in place.

(Name) crossed her arms, she was getting fed up and there wasn’t a point in picking a fight in heaven. “You're quite the piece of work, aren't you? Do you need something?”

The woman’s response was curt. “No.”

“Okay, I'll be on my way then,” (Name) replied, her steps quickening. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the woman’s eyes boring into her back. “What do you want?”

But before she could receive an answer, the woman’s voice taunted her, sending a shiver down her spine. “With that obsession of yours, there’s only one place you’ll end up.”

(Name) wished that her voice didn’t shake and give her away. She didn’t want to kiss her place in heaven goodbye for her stupidity. “What are you saying?”

“You look like you need a purpose.”

“I don't need a purpose,”

The woman laughed as (Name) felt a chill going down her spine. "The rate you’re going, you won’t need one and burn with the rest of the sinners in hell."

"I earned my place here," (Name) countered, her voice trembling, as she tried to keep herself from shaking. She couldn’t ever go to hell and become a fallen angel.

"Keep telling yourself that,"

(Name)'s mind raced with questions, her unease growing with each passing moment. "What are you getting at?" she demanded, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. She wouldn’t ever end up there.

"I'm offering you a deal,"

"I don't want it,"

"Suit yourself, but you'll be back. Come and find me when you've run out of options," With her business done, the woman took to the skies and (Name) shouted for her to wait.

She didn’t mean to yell her question at her. “If that ever happens. What's your name? So, I can find you.”

“Lute.”

💟

Another decade passed in heaven and (Name)’s search for her husband and some clue of his whereabouts were fruitless. Every passing year that she searched a small part of her died, first few years it was her hope and later it was her love. (Name) having to come up empty-handed every single time took its toll.

In the quiet moments of solitude, (Name) grappled with the bitter truth that her love may never return to her side. The echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace seemed like distant memories, fading into the recesses of her mind like whispers carried away by the wind.

In her solitude, came the truths she refused to face. That her soul was becoming consumed by her envy and prayers to see him again. She longed to feel his presence once more, to hear his voice echoing through the golden streets of paradise. There was something about being condemned to paradise without all your loved ones that was driving her insane. When did he become her world? When did she corrupt her pure unconditional love for him? Why was she so hung up on him even now?

Alastor, her dear husband.

Her beloved husband and her world. He would never come, and her prayers wouldn’t be answered. Alastor would forever be beyond her reach and never be someone she could hold again.

Alastor would never come, because he was in hell. As much as she refused to believe it or admit it. Deep down? She knew. Her husband was being tortured in hell for reasons that were foreign to her.

Alastor would never be here. He would never come. (Name) would never hear him play his piano as she sang or snuggle up to him when he read the morning paper. Or touch his hair and wear his glasses.

He was in the worst place now and that was final. The place that tortured those who lived vile lives. A pit with killers, cannibals, terrorists, and abusers.

She wanted nothing more than to forget.

Which lead her here, in front of the Exorcist’s main building with a meeting in place with Lute. She did her homework and quickly learned she was a fearsome fighter. But, more importantly, she was Adam’s right hand.

She did exactly what Lute said she would do. (Name) would come back for that deal. She would screw everything she had ever hoped to do here. As long as Lute would give her a purpose and a method to prevent her from falling to hell.

(Name) was going to take that damn deal.

And so, with a heavy heart and a steely resolve, (Name) made her decision. She would embrace the deal offered by Lute, no matter the cost. She would forsake everything she had ever known, everything she had ever hoped to become, in exchange for a chance at redemption.

Her heart ached as she pushed the doors open and saw Lute and Adam awaiting her. Adam looked bored as she ate his lunch and Lute seemed to have a wicked grin on her face.

"Took you long enough," Lute might have been grinning, but her tone was anything but one of joy. She seemed more annoyed than anything else.

(Name) straightened her posture as she held her hands tightly. “You said you had a deal for me.”

"The deal to prevent you from becoming a loser?" Lute sneered,

"No," (Name) retorted, her gaze narrowing. "Make a deal with me to forget him."

A wicked grin spread across Lute's face, sending shivers down (Name)'s spine. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she declared, her eyes glittering with malevolent intent as she extended her gloved hand toward (Name).

With a deep breath, (Name) reached out and grasped Lute's hand in a firm shake, sealing her fate. There was no turning back now, no retreat from the path she had chosen. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with peril and pain, but she was willing to endure it all if it meant escaping the clutches of damnation.

It was a price she’d pay willingly if she could avoid joining the ranks of the sinners.

"Deal," Her voice was one of determination as her heart wept at her decision.

"Welcome to the exorcists,"

(Name) offered a silent nod of gratitude as she clenched her hands into her dress for something to calm her nerves. She had picked her fate and would find herself in the care of these two sadistic angels. But, she wouldn’t let herself be down on the first step of her journey.

“It’s a pleasure to be here.”

There was no going back now,

No escape that she was willing to take.

The only escape was forsaking her place in heaven.

And she would rather have a permanent death.

This was cross posted on A03!

The song she sings is Evermore from Beauty and the Beast from the live action.

#alastor x reader #Warofheartsseries #radio demon #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #the radio demon #fan fiction

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

the world’s my oyster (i’m the pearl)

summary:

Um,” he stares at Scott for a moment longer. “Can I, uh, can I come in? Or,” he allows himself to trail off, still watching Scott. The crown certainly suits him, at least, even though the pinkish-orange colour of the coral is not something he’d ever have considered to go well with cyan.

The door swings open in front of him, and he almost startles at the abruptness of it, jerking his hand back and down to his side. “So,” Scott’s grinning, that grin that makes his teeth look far sharper than they actually are, “you've come crawling back, have you?”

“It’s,” he laughs, inching forward, “It’s not crawling back, it’s…sheepishly wandering in.” He smiles a little as he continues to inch his way forward, sliding past Scott and through the rather narrow ‘doorway’ when Scott doesn't move to stop him from entering.

Or, a 5 + 1 where Scott is acting suspicious, and Martyn is trying to figure out why

(ao3 link)

(11,149 words)

yeah the title’s a h2o reference. it’s comedy gold, alright (and mer scott. it just fits yk)

The small, rather rickety path out into the water is what first grabs at his attention, snagging it and holding it as he steps a little closer. He crouches, trying not to come off as too suspicious, even though he is acting incredibly, incredibly suspicious right now, and anyone that might see him would be well-founded in whatever boogeyman-related accusation they throw his way.

The curse itches beneath his skin, far more intense than it had been in the previous games. It ticks alongside his slowly counting timer. The itching only grows more fierce the longer he sits around twiddling his thumbs, but he sits, squatted in the bushes and sheltered by the trees overhead, and watches as Scott moves around the small island he’s constructing.

As Martyn watches, he notices the way that Scott moves around the island is actually rather odd, especially as he occasionally jumps away from the edge, as though he’s been burned- which is impossible, because it’s water.

Despite his apparent hatred for the water, Scott continues to build where he is, sticking firmly to the centre of the small island that is beginning to take shape around him. The only part that remains unchanged is the small shelter right beside the bridge, though Scott does glance over at it occasionally.

More than once, Martyn swears Scott looks directly at him as well, eyes pausing for a moment over his hiding spot before he returns to whatever he was doing before. It makes the curse thrum a little louder, a little heavier, beneath his skin in anticipation. He squashes it down a little further, before creeping out from behind the bush he’d chosen to hide behind for the past…however long.

His timer tells him he’s only spent five minutes crouched there, but the moon had been high in the sky when he first started watching Scott, casting most of his surroundings into shadow - only the island had been lit up, a small beacon on light in the darkness swamping everything else - but now that same moon is incredibly close to setting, and the horizon is beginning to tinge pink with the sunrise.

He doesn't believe these timers one bit, not at all. There’s something wrong with them, but either everyone’s too caught up in the newness of this game to notice, or they have noticed and simply don't care enough to question it. Martyn didn't believe in the twenty-four hours, anyway, not when Grian announced it in such an odd way. And those watching on would hardly be satisfied with a day of entertainment.

The dirt bridge crumbles a little beneath his feet, and he pauses, holding his breath as he waits to see if it will take his weight- if it will betray his entrance onto the island. Scott’s back remains turned to him, and he watches as the man sifts through one of the chests he just set up.

He gives no reaction to Martyn’s approach, so he continues onwards, making an effort to place his feet a little lighter as he approaches, wary of alerting Scott. Martyn is well aware of Scott’s reputation in these games, of his seemingly inhuman hearing that catches even the smallest of sounds- Joel had told him once, in one of the afterparties they host once the games come to a close, that Scott had found him and Grian during last life because he breathed too loud. The man’s ears are entirely normal, too, not at all pointed or giving any indication that they're anything but human ears with normal, human-like hearing.

He realises, as Scott begins to turn, that he’s just been stood on the man’s bridge and staring at him like a creep. He scrambles for something to do, eyes landing on the odd shelter once more, spying the boat lodged into the side of the island and containing one zombified villager. Perfect.

He lunges for the boat, throwing himself into it and beginning to slowly push off the edge of the island, ignoring the thumping in his heart- the roaring in his ears that demands he kills Scott then and there, that he had had his back turned for several long minutes, in which he could have neatly lodged an axe in the man’s back and be rid of the curse.

“Uh,” he glances back, one hand still resting against the edge of the island, still in the process of getting the boat unlodged, Scott’s turned to face him, eyes wide with…shock? It doesn't look like shock, more like surprise. Martyn almost begins laughing. “No thank you.” Scott says, and the man is beside him a moment later, moving almost scarily quick, but he doesn't have much time to focus on that, instead focusing on not overbalancing and dragging them both into the water and Scott yanks him from the boat.

He stumbles a little as his feet make contact with ground, foot catching on nothing, and he grabs onto Scott’s shoulders to steady himself, gripping tightly to Scott’s shirt. And he almost succeeds in pulling both of them backwards into the water as he tips back, already laughing.

The water rushes up around him, and he inhales some as he laughs, popping back to the surface, coughing. His hair obscures most of his vision, dripping in front of his eyes even as he pushes it back out of the way; it only falls forward again, obscuring his vision once more and sticking to his face.

He continues laughing as soon as he’s certain he’s not going to inhale any more water and choke to death. He makes a grab for one of his sandals as it begins to float past, and it only makes him laugh a little harder at the sheer absurdity of it, having to grip onto the edge of the small island to make sure he doesn't go under again.

“Aw, man.” He manages to calm down momentarily, huffing out a breath, breathing out slowly as it threatens to turn into a laugh again. “You sounded so offended, man.” He grins up at Scott, pushing his hair back from his face again- seriously, what’s even the point of wearing a headband if it doesn't keep his hair out of his eyes.

“You tried to steal my villager,” Scott frowns down at him, but Martyn can see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, almost a laugh. “I think I have some right to be offended.” Scott tips his chin upwards, looking down at him almost haughtily- something that Martyn would only believe if he had known Scott for less than five minutes. The guy has some odd flair for the dramatics. It’s a shame that he and Ren never teamed, they would certainly have been interesting to watch.

“I guess so, thought you didn't hear me, though.”

“I heard you.” Scott says, looking down at him. The skin around his eyes catches the light slightly, flashing bright, but when Martyn takes a closer look, it’s just some rather bright eyeshadow the other has decided to wear. “I just thought I’d give you an easy kill.”

“An easy kill?” He laughs it off, ignoring how the itch beneath his skin seems to intensify with those few words- he already knows, he might as well. He shakes the thoughts off, pulling himself from the water. “Wait, wait, you think I’m the boogey?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, c’mon man,” Scott hops back a few steps as he approaches, looking more than a little nervous as Martyn steps forward. “That hurts, you think I've come here to just kill you in cold blood? Can't I just visit a friend?”

“While that’s a nice thought, I unfortunately don't believe you.” Scott smiles, expression not matching his words, the eyeshadow smudged around the corners of his eyes shimmering in the light again, drawing Martyn’s eyes back to it. “You got that whole-” Scott gestures at him, “-thing about you. Twitchy, like you're ready to swing at someone as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“I mean, you did that, didn't you?” His clothes stick to his skin rather uncomfortably, clinging. He finds a piece of seaweed stuck to his calf as well, peeling it off as he speaks. He flicks it at Scott, for a laugh, watching as the man jumps out of the seaweed’s path and sends a glare his way. “Poor Skizz, the man just wanted to chat with you.”

“He set it up so well, Martyn,” Scott groans, suspicion dissolving for a moment as he complains. “Everyone’s been getting on to me about it, especially after Bdubs’ stunt- which also wasn't my fault! But he was just saying all the right things- it was far too funny for me to let the opportunity pass up.” And Martyn’s sure that They rather enjoyed the show too, especially from the one person that refused to cooperate with their schemes the last two games.

“I hear you,” he laughs, even as he attempts to slip his foot back into his wet sandal without fiddling about with the straps too much. His clothes are going to be wet for the next while and the sun’s not even up yet meaning he’s going to be walking around in squeaky shoes for several long hours- no way he’s sneaking up on anyone like that. “But still not the boogey.” He grins, only sweating a little as Scott continues to look unconvinced- one word and everyone would start avoiding him like the plague.

“Mhm,” Scott looks him up and down, with a judgemental enough look that he almost cowers beneath it. But Martyn’s built of stronger stuff than that, staring back at Scott in return. “If you say so, then.”

Scott’s lips quirk up in the corner a little bit, as though there’s a joke only he’s been let in on. And Martyn has a pretty good idea that he’s probably the butt of said joke.

“Have fun sneaking up on people in your squeaky shoes,” Scott says, which. Great. Scott’s already noticed that and he’s not even moved yet, this is actually hopeless. He’s going to be yellow within the day, and there’s nothing he can even do about it.

“Still not the boogey.” He reminds. He leaves Scott to it, though, turning around and walking back down the bridge. His sandals squeak as he walks, and he does his best to ignore the snicker behind him. “Yeah, yeah,” he shouts back, turning around to face Scott, “laugh it up!”

He slips as he turns, some dirt giving way beneath his heel, and almost falls back into the ocean. He manages to regain his footing quickly, scrambling to maintain his balance on the rickety little path, glaring at Scott when the man’s snickering turns into a sharp bark of laughter.

He grumbles to himself, mind already running over the few ideas he has left, searching for an idea. His shoes continue squeaking as he walks, and all it does is distract him from his game plans, dragging his mind back towards Scott, and the man’s odd avoidance of the water’s edge and just water in general.

It could also, very easily, be that the man was avoiding him. But he looked far more nervous than he needed to as Martyn approached him after his brief dip in the ocean, far too nervous for someone that was just worried about being murdered. And that also doesn't explain his behaviour before Martyn even approached, avoiding the surrounding ocean like his life depended on it; and unless Scott’s hearing has reached new levels of freaky, then he definitely wasn't watching for Martyn then.

When he glances back, Scott is still keeping his distance from the water.

He considers it for a moment, then shoves the thought aside. He has far more important things to worry about than Scott acting weird- he’s always acting weird! He’s a weird man.

=== === ===

II.

He stares at the ground in front of him, the bucket in his hands warm as he stares at the empty spot, where there had been a cow only moments before. He glances over at Etho from the corner of his eye, biting on his tongue so he doesn't start laughing at possibly the worst moment he’s had all day.

He still aches from the pufferfish Etho had flung at him earlier. It’s a very good reminder of why he should definitely not start laughing at something that is actually very, very bad.

“Dude,” Impulse is staring at him as well, face set into one of those I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed looks.

“I did not mean for that to happen,” he says. And he can hear the laugh bubbling in his throat, threatening to break free if he continues talking much longer. He clutches the lava bucket a little tighter, before deciding that is probably a bad thing to do because the metal is already heating up to a hazardous temperature. And he likes being able to use his hands. “I was just memeing Skizz, and then-” he cuts himself off again, peering up through the small hole in the ceiling to look at Skizz.

The man stares back down at him, one hand resting against the edge of the hole. Martyn had definitely considered simply leaving the lava there for Skizz to fall into, unaware, and taken the kill then and there, but the swift death of the cow had been enough to make him feel a little guilty.

“Aw,” he buries his face in his hands, stepping back from the small entrance. “I am so sorry.” His words are muffled slightly, but he’s sure the others can at least guess the sentiment of his words if they can't understand them. He pulls at his face a little bit, glancing up at the people around him.

Impulse just looks sad at this point, staring at the spot their cow had been only a few moments before. Martyn has never felt regret as intensely as he does in this moment, even if his whole visit had been a ploy to try and kill one of them.

“You gotta be kidding me right now.”

Martyn can feel his resolve begin to waver as they continue on about the cow, lips twitching into an almost-smile as Impulse continues to bemoan their loss. Etho, at least, seems to have planned ahead, or at least far enough ahead that he saw the cow not surviving for very long anyway, as he manages to retrieve a cow within a few minutes after the incident.

It’s as though the cow never died in the first place, and he watches it meander around the small base from the step. Impulse had told him, in very few words, that he’d prefer it if he sat up here and away from the cows for now. He hadn't minded it either, as it means he can sit a short distance away from everyone else- a long enough distance that the itch at the back of his brain is reduced, if only a little bit. The need for blood still lingers, but it’s nowhere near as intense as it had been before.

He can't help but panic a little, unable to see any of these people splitting off from the pack so that he can follow and murder them. He also can't see them just letting it slide if he does kill one of them, so maybe it’s not his greatest idea to pick one of these four.

“Oh, Skizz,” his ears prick up as a new voice joins the jumbled fray, a little louder than many of the others and much further away. He stands, moving from the step Impulse had instructed him to stay on so there weren't any more cow related accidents. “Bud.”

He can hear the sympathy in Scott’s voice, and when he pokes his head out of the entrance to the underground base, Scott is smiling sympathetically at Skizz. A boat rocks gently behind him, lodged firmly in the sand as Scott steps gingerly out of it, scurrying a few metres up the beach before he comes to a stop.

“Dude, it’s been brutal,” Skizz says.

Martyn emerges fully onto the small island, only because hovering in the darkness is making him far more suspicious, and it would be very easy for Scott to pin it on him right now- especially as the man seems convinced that it is him anyway.

“What happened?” Scott seems to be asking from a sympathetic standpoint, but Martyn also knows Scott, and knowing Scott means that he knows Scott just wants the details of what happened from the source. Martyn listens as well, nodding at Scott when the man’s eyes slide over to him.

“I was way, way deep down,” Skizz gestures to the ground beneath their feet, moving back and forth a little bit as they talk. “I was just looking for some diamonds, and a creeper killed me.” Skizz turns his back to Martyn, and he has the idea to just do it now- do it here. He’d considered it already, back in the cave when the curse first settled itself over his mind, but he’d resisted then. But he’s so close to running out of time, so close to failing-

His hand hovers over the sword at his hip, and Skizz’s back is still turned, and Scott had even proposed an alliance to him earlier today, so he doubts Scott’s going to rat him out right now. He glances up, hand still hovering, still uncertain.

Scott glances between him and Skizz, mouth setting into a grim line. He then shakes his head, slight enough that anyone not looking would have missed it. And Skizz continues talking, oblivious to the silent conversation that had just passed between him and Scott.

And Scott’s right, honestly. It would be a bad idea, and they would have four angry people after them, one of which is definitely going to be a yellow soon, and that’s not something he wants to see at all. He swallows, glancing away, mind racing, curse roaring, demanding he ignore Scott, that he does it anyway.

He takes a step back, away from the shoreline and Scott and Skizz, pulling his hand away from his sword forcefully, reminding himself that it would be a bad idea, over and over again, and that Skizz has already lost enough time as it is, to lose more would only put him on Skizz’s list.

He takes another step back, and his foot catches on something. He glances back, finding it to be the hole that leads to the base beneath the island. The…confined base that has little to no escape routes, something which could very easily be blown up.

He glances back to the talking pair on the beach. Neither of them watch him, neither of them are looking to see where he goes.

He drops down into the hole, ignoring the slight jolt in his ankles as he lands. He pauses, not daring to even breathe. He can't hear himself over the sound of blood roaring in his ears- he doesn't know how loud he would be, can't know how loud it would be. So he doesn't dare breathe, straining his ears to make sure that there are people in the base below him, that him tossing away the few resources he has won't go to waste.

He chips away at the wall in front of him, clenching his hands tight around his pickaxe to stop them from shaking. Ignores the pounding of his heart, the rushing in his ears as he breaks through the rock, pausing to heave in a breath and to check that he hasn't been heard- hasn't been found.

He can't be found, he can’t. He doesn't have long left for this, not long at all, and he can't be yellow. Not yet, it’s too soon. Far, far too soon.

He breaks down the few feet that separates him from the room below, pulling back as soon as the last chunk of rock has been chipped away. He has to let it fall, there’s no way he can grab it back now, just has to watch it plummet and hope no one pays attention to the sound.

He holds his breath, feeling it catch in his lungs until he feels as though he’s going to explode. He watches as Scott turns around and stares at the rock for a long, long moment. Long enough that Martyn thinks he might say something, that he might warn the others.

He doesn't, eyes glancing up, though he can't see him- the rock blocks him from seeing Martyn, tucked away in his little gap in the rock, just large enough for him to crouch in. And then Scott turns back around, and he doesn't say a word. He just listens as the team continues talking, chattering amongst themselves.

He doesn't dare breathe, not even a sigh of relief- it could tell them that he’s still here, that he’s not disappeared away again.

He pulls the first bundle of TNT from his inventory, holding it in shaking hands as he fumbles for his flint and steel, grasping it and bringing it up to the wick, striking it once, twice, three times, hands shaking as he tries to light it, watches as it continues to sputter out before the wick can catch.

And then it does catch, flaring to life with a sizzle and he shoves it away, pulling the next bundle free, lighting this one quicker than the previous. There’s a shout from below- someone spotting the TNT no doubt. But it hasn't exploded yet, he still has time.

He drops the second one.

The third is the easiest to light, and he drops that too, peering over the edge, some morbid curiosity filling him- to see if he can get the kill or not. To see if someone might stray a little too close to the detonating bomb.

But, no. They huddle in a corner, all watching the TNT with wide eyes, watching. Waiting. And then it explodes, and his ears beginning ringing, though not with bloodlust this time. Instead, he blinks, coughing as smoke fills his mouth and makes him choke. He pulls back from the small opening he created, hacking and choking on his own breath as shouts of panic break out below.

He peers in again, still blinking back the tears in his eyes, watches as the rock wall behind where everyone huddles begins to crack, begins to give way beneath the sudden lack of stability and structure.

Scott breaks free first, sprinting across the room and skidding to a halt before throwing himself up the small wall and onto the stairs. Only then does he turn back around, posture stiff and tense, watching as the room begins to flood through the small fissures in the rock.

The TIES groan and grumble at the sudden flooding, kicking through the water and sloshing it around their ankles. And Martyn should move on, should leave now that Scott has thrown him under the bus- they could say something in the general chat at any moment, could condemn him to failing his one task.

But they don't, they continue complaining, continue kicking the water around. And Martyn finds himself far more fascinated about how scared Scott seems to be of the water, backing further and further away from the main room, beginning a slow, jerking path up the stairs, away from the steadily rising water and out of the splash zone of where the TIES have begun splashing water at each other.

Martyn watches Scott, files this odd information into his brain, alongside the way Scott avoids water like the plague. Doesn't even go near it despite having chosen to take up residence in the middle of the ocean, where you are surrounded by water.

And then one of the TIES shouts for his blood- and he knows they can't do that, they can't. It’s against the rules. And yet he flees anyway, squeezing back down the small corridor he’d hewn out, and sprinting for the surface.

He only looks back once he’s a safe distance away, watching as Tango and Skizz patrol the surface of their island and Scott climbs into his boat, and begins rowing back to his own island. Rowing, where someone else would have swam the short distance.

But the curse still lingers, still has its hooks in his mind. And he doesn't have time to sit around and watch Scott act odd, because he has other, far more pressing matters to attend to.

For now, at least.

=== === ===

III.

Scott’s island is bigger than it had been before. Spanning over a larger stretch of land, half-grown shoots of bamboo sticking out of the earth, marking out a perimeter. The leaves rustle gently in the breeze, and a few of the closer sticks of bamboo knock into each other, rattling in the wind.

A door stands at the entryway to the island, though there is no frame surrounding it. Truly, there is nothing but manners stopping him from bypassing the door completely, and stepping around. And also because it is far too comedic to knock on the door as well.

“Hi,” Scott peers around his door, not even bothering to open it. And…he’s wearing an odd crown of coral. Something he hadn't been wearing last time, at least. And the coral hasn't begun to bleach yet, remaining colourful despite being on land.

“Hi.” He responds, peering around the door as well, fist still pressed against the wood from where he’d knocked. The bridge is larger this time, too, more stable than it had been previously. He feels far less like he’s about to take an unwelcome dip into the ocean and far more like he’s going to remain nice and warm and dry.

“Um,” he stares at Scott for a moment longer. “Can I, uh, can I come in? Or,” he allows himself to trail off, still watching Scott. The crown certainly suits him, at least, even though the pinkish-orange colour of the coral is not something he’d ever have considered to go well with cyan.

“You abandoned me,” Scott says, frowning. The sadness in his voice is incredibly fake, truly, no one would be buying it. But Martyn has to make a good impression, because this is his only chance at an alliance, and Scott is definitely a good choice for a teammate.

“I didn't abandon you,” he protests.

Scott ignores him. “You came to the coral isles, and then you left.”

“I didn't wanna kill you!” He protests, throwing his arms out. When Scott doesn't try to interrupt him, he continues. “I was already the boogey at that point, yeah, yeah, well done, you guessed it. Whatever. And then you were in the TIES’ hole, and I attempted to kill you, and if you attempt to kill someone then you don't immediately go crawling back to them and ask for an alliance! You leave them to cool down, to work out their frustration for a few hours, and then you come to grovel.”

“You're grovelling right now?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “I've seen better grovelling from a dehydrated plant.”

“Now that’s just hurtful, man.” He presses a hand to his chest. “And I am grovelling, I said sorry.”

“No you didn't.”

“I'm sorry,” he tries. “For, uh, trying to kill you- but in my defence! I was almost out of time, and there was a big group, and I was almost certain that the TNT would have gotten them.”

“It would have, if you threw all of it in at once.” Scott crosses his arms. “Throwing in just one, right after you lit the fuse too, Martyn, means that they had the time to react and then huddle, so the other ones didn't do anything.”

“So, what? I should just hang onto the TNT until it’s about to explode?” He’d have probably blown himself up if he’d done that- he can hardly remember anything from that panic-filled haze, so he doubts his planning skills were actually being used at any point.

“Yes.” Scott says, then sighs. “But I get it,” he shrugs as he turns away, “you were panicked, there’s a lot of pressure. I took out the first person I saw.” Martyn follows after Scott as he moves a little closer to the centre of the island, unsure whether he’s actually welcome to stay here or if Scott’s just humouring him.

“So,” he decides to break the ice, trailing behind Scott. “Can, can I move in?” He scuffs his feet against the ground, and Scott turns at his question. Scott frowns, lips pursed as he looks him up and down again.

“You're wanting to be a coral kid?” Scott asks. He sounds almost…pleasantly surprised.

“Okay, uh,” he laughs, “maybe not a coral kid,” Scott frowns a little deeper, “but I've come back with ideas- name ideas, okay? You know, I've been out and about, travelling the world,” the tiny little world they're confined in for the foreseeable future. “Uh,” he scrambles to keep talking, taking a few steps back from Scott, away from the small area he has set up in the middle of the island. Scott doesn't follow after him, propping a hip against the crafting bench. “I'm older, I'm wiser. I'm smarter,” he nods to himself, glancing back at Scott.

Scott seems to be mildly amused by him, head tilted at a slight angle as he watches him talk, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I've got some name suggestions,” he finishes, giving a little jazz hands as Scott continues to stare at him. He’s got that same eyeshadow on again, glinting around the corners of his eyes. Maybe it’s his new thing for this iteration of the games- people try new things all the time.

“Okay,” Scott drags the word out, but he gestures for him to continue. Martyn is absolutely going to get to stay on this island, thank god.

“Alright,” he rocks forward onto the balls of his feet before rocking back again, “so, obviously, there’s coral kids.” Scott nods his head, “Not too bad, but, you know, I think it makes us sound kinda like pushovers? Uh,” he thinks for a moment, “next one on the list honestly isn't that great either, though, so, damp dudes? Feeling that one?”

Scott clicks his tongue, leaning back on the crafting bench a little further, before shaking his head. “Nope, don't enjoy that one.”

“Alright,” that wasn't his best one, but better to lead with his worst because they can only get better from here on out. Hopefully. “Seeing as this isn't really much of an ocean,” and it isn't, “how about puddle pals?”

“No,” Scott’s response is immediate. “Puddle feels even less,” Scott pulls a face and Martyn gets the message.

“Okay.” Maybe he should have written them all down in a list. He’d spent most of last night brainstorming ideas, hoping to put himself on Scott’s right side and gain a teammate if he can impress him with a team name. “So, I was imagining leather jackets for this next one- like the bad boys’ jackets,”

“You know Jimmy just stole his from Tango, right?” Scott’s grinning, leaning forward a little.

“Really?” He blinks, thinks about it for a moment, then, “Yeah, that makes sense. Timmy doesn't seem like the kind to own a jacket more of a-”

“Denim guy, yeah.” Scott nods his head along, hair falling in front of his eyes before Scott brushes it back again. Martyn finds himself watching Scott for a moment too long before he averts his eyes again, moving a little further around the island. Scott swings his legs over the crafting table to watch him go.

“Alright, us in leather jackets: sons of beaches.” Scott doesn't say anything in response to that one, and when Martyn turns around the other is just staring at him, apparently slightly lost for words. He laughs a little, more out of nervousness at Scott’s silence.

“It’s, hm,” Scott pauses to think. “It’s better than the other two, but, uh.”

“Alright, alright. I've still got a few more,” he nods, even though his list is very rapidly running a little short. “I know you like the film Mean Girls,” Scott nods at that, “so what about Mean Shells?”

Scott tips his head to the side, still staring at Martyn. He stares for long enough, apparently lost enough in thought, that Martyn begins to feel a little flustered beneath Scott’s undivided attention. The green of the man’s eyes is far too intense compared to their normal blue, and it freaks him out. Just a bit.

“I like it,” Scott says, “but I don't know if people will get that reference.” Scott pulls a face, “Mean Gills, would’ve been-”

“Mean Gills!” He bounces a little in place, pointing at Scott and nodding. Scott looks a little taken aback by his enthusiasm, but smiles after a moment anyway. “Yeah, yeah! You've nailed that one there. Mean Gills,” he repeats to himself.

“Did you have any more?” Scott asks.

“Only a couple. What about beauty and the beach?”

“Okay,” Scott nods, “do like that. But which one of us is going to be the beauty and which one of us is gonna be the beach? Because I can tell you right now which one I don't want to be.”

“Oh yeah, alright. What about santa’s little kelpers?” He grins, quite proud of that one.

Scott looks rather unimpressed. “Bit too seasonal.”

“You're a harsh critic, Smajor.” He laughs, “Big buoys? Like, spelt like the, the floating things? B-U-O-Y-S.”

Scott shakes his hand back, side to side. “I think the bad boys would get annoyed with us there, encroaching on their territory and all that. And like, they might be bad at these games, but they've also got full diamond and enchanted armour, so I don't really want to go around annoying them, yeah? Trying not to make enemies just yet.”

“Sal-men?” He tries. His list is dwindling now, though Scott is cracking a smile at a few of these, so it’s not a total loss.

“Oh, no,” Scott shakes his head. “I've had a whole,” he gestures with a flippant hand, “salmon fiasco in the past. Let’s not go there.”

“LGB-Sea?” He says. “Like, like S-E-A?” He laughs a little, because it was a rather bad joke on its own really, but Scott seems to find it funny too because he’s laughing as well, leaning forward on his makeshift seat as he giggles.

“I like the-” Scott laughs again. “LGB-Sea is great.”

“Alright, alright, last one, and maybe we should just lock this one in straight away because I like this one: H-Two-Bros.”

“H-Two-Bros is great,” Scott’s lips are quirked up in a smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles, that blue eyeshadow flashing in the light again. “But I'm kinda torn between that and mean gills.” Scott’s eyes then widen a little. “Not that either of us have gills, though,” he laughs, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “That would be ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows crinkle together. “Neither of us have gills. But we��re going for the ocean-y fish theme, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott nods, “why don't we get Pearl’s opinion on this?”

Pearl’s? The question is half-formed on his tongue before Pearl pops out of the water, spraying it everywhere. Scott is halfway across the island a moment later, looking rather like a startled cat even though he was the one that requested Pearl join them.

Pearl then shakes like a dog, hair and water flying everywhere, hitting him as well. He winces as a stray chunk of hair hits him in the face. He backs up a few steps, away from the edge of the island and the danger zone that is currently surrounding Pearl.

“Ask me what?” She asks, rather cheery.

“We’re choosing a name for the people on this island,” Martyn gestures between him and Scott, who is yet to return from his corner of scared cat-ness. “And we’ve got two contenders currently: Mean Gills and H-Two-Bros.”

“I like Mean Gills better, it’s kinda cute.” Pearl laughs.

The conversation devolves from there, and before he knows it he’s rummaging around in his inventory to find a few bits of gunpowder and handing them over to Pearl. “I cremated her.” He says with a smile, watching as Pearl’s eyes widen slightly, glancing up at him, then back down at the gunpowder.

“I'm leaving,” she says, voice high-pitched. “This is not,” she shakes her head, hopping back into the ocean. She doesn't emerge until she’s several feet away from the island, water splashing as she kicks her way towards the next body of land.

“I don't know what she wanted me to say!” He laughs, though it’s a poor defence, really. Scott laughs a little as well, moving back towards the centre of the island now that Pearl has left. Scott didn't seem to hold any ill will towards Pearl, so Martyn doesn't understand why he avoided her so clearly. “She wants her dead dog from the last games, I don't have anything for her!”

“You could've saved that until she gave me the grass,” Scott frowns. “We only have a little bit now.”

“Eh, it’ll spread in no time.” He assures.

=== === ===

IV.

His hourglass is beginning to come together nicely, even with only the barebones of the structure constructed so far. The chest of resources he’s gathered for this mini project sits a few feet behind him, lid swung open so he doesn't have to keep opening it whilst building.

Scott sits on the small deck chair he’s built for himself, leaning back in it and watching him build. He had been wearing sunglasses, up until the point where Martyn had pointed out that he looked like one of the bad boys and he’d taken them off rather quickly after that.

He’s squinting against the sun as he watches Martyn build, still wearing that eyeshadow despite only getting up half an hour earlier. Martyn hadn't even seen him put it on, but it had been there as soon as he was up, so he must have put it on at some point.

Not that he noticed it immediately. He’s taken to watching Scott recently, but he’s not been staring at his eyes. His eyes might look rather nice, but that doesn't mean Martyn is caught up in staring at them all the time.

“See something you like?” Scott tips his head to the side, eyes still squinted mostly shut. Scott then stretches out on the deck chair, raising one arm above his head. He even winks, just to add to the effect.

“Not really,” he snorts, turning back to his hourglass. He still needs to add most of the glass to it, and that’s definitely going to be the most time-consuming part of this whole affair; he’s going to have to make sure he doesn't bend any of the glass too far and shatter it- why did he decide to build this again? It’s hardly going to be functional and Scott’s beach house is plenty large enough for the two of them. Their beds are side by side in there, too, and he’s not going to be moving out of there any time soon. “Keep dreaming, Scott.”

Scott hums behind him, and he can feel the other man’s eyes on him as he rummages through the chest, collecting as much glass as he can comfortably hold.

“Make sure you don't bend it too far,” Scott says as he starts to place the glass into its frame. “It’s an inflexible material and it will just shatter if you bend it too far.”

“Thanks for that, Scott. I am well aware.”

“Just making sure!” When he looks back Scott’s got his hands raised in surrender, drink held in one of them- when did he get a drink? He stares at Scott for a moment, and Scott stares back at him, before taking a sip from his drink. Where did he even get a straw from? Did he bring it with him?

…Honestly, he can see Scott doing exactly that for a moment like this.

“I just don't want to be the one cleaning you up if you manage to slice your hand open on some of the glass.” Scott shrugs, drink sloshing dangerously against the side of his glass. Scott seems to realise this, jerking the drink away from him hurriedly, before grinning at Martyn.

“I'm hardly going to slice my hand open on the glass,” he snorts. “What do you take me for, some kind of idiot?”

“Just remember that I dated Jimmy for a while, okay?” Scott says. Martyn takes his momentary distraction to slot a few of the glass panes in without any judgement or commentary. He’s all for ribbing at someone, but Scott takes it to an entirely new, rather impressive, level. “Love the guy, he’s great, but he was rather accident prone. I'm just making sure you don't hurt yourself.”

“Giving me the boyfriend treatment, Smajor?” He calls back, picking up the next piece of glass, bending it ever so slightly, careful with the amount of force he applies as he begins slotting it into its place.

“If you want, I've been told I'm rather good.”

The glass breaks in his hands, unable to withstand the sudden increase in pressure from his grip. And, hm. He stares down at his hands, brain not quite registering the pain yet, only that there is a lot of red. Probably a bit more than there should be.

“Scott?” He calls, not turning back around. Scott hasn't made any quip about him breaking the glass, so Martyn doubts he actually heard the glass breaking.

“Yeah,” Martyn can hear the rattling of ice against glass.

“Can you get tetanus from glass?” He asks. The pain is beginning to filter through his system, overtaking the shock and adrenaline of moments later to begin stinging. And then burning, a little.

“Uh,” Scott goes silent for a moment. “I don't think so?”

“That’s good.” He nods along. That is quite a bit of blood, and he thinks he might be going a bit light-headed from the blood loss. “You gotta promise not to make fun of me, alright?”

“I am not promising that.” Scott says. He can hear someone standing up. “Turn around, Martyn.”

He does, not sure what else to do. Scott is only a few inches from him when he turns around, and it’s enough to make him startle. Scott frowns at him for a moment- and they're both far closer than they've been during Martyn’s small stay here, and he can see the eyeshadow up close now, and it almost looks like-

“What did I tell you?” Scott interrupts his thoughts, and he snaps back into focus, slightly.

“Lots of things.”

“About the glass,” Scott stresses, grabbing his hand and shaking that as well a moment.

“Oh, yeah, don't bend it.”

“And what did you do?” Scott asks.

“Bend it?” He responds. “Look, man, I just wanna sit down, alright? I'm not…feeling great.”

“Yeah, no shit, Martyn. Look at this!” He shakes Martyn’s hand around a little, fingers smearing with blood. “This is why we don't play around with glass.”

“It’s your fault, anyway.” He frowns at Scott. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you.” Scott deadpans. “And so it’s my fault.”

“Exactly.” He tries to point at Scott, but Scott is still holding one of his wrists, so the movement is far less confident and smooth than he had been hoping it would be.

“God, you're worse than Jimmy.” Scott drags a hand down his face. And his hand had blood on it, meaning he’s just smearing blood over his face. “How are you worse than Jimmy?”

“I take offence at that.”

“You can take offence at it when you're not about to pass out at the sight of some blood.”

“I'm not about to pass out,” he scoffs. Or tries to. He doesn't actually know how convincing it is, because everything sounds like it’s underwater. “It’s the blood loss.”

“You have not lost enough blood to feel dizzy.” Scott tells him, still gripping his wrist. “You're just squeamish.”

“Am not.” He tugs at the grip Scott’s got on him. “No way I’d have made it through so, so many of these games if I was squeamish.” It’s the blood loss- the same blood loss that is making the world spin around him like everything just’s been cranked up really high on speed, and his eyes ache with it.

“Martyn,” Scott sighs, but his voice is really muffled, and, wow, is that the ocean? The water is always super warm around here, he’s pretty sure it’s because of the biome they're in, but he always enjoys it. It’s like a slightly colder than usual bath- still warm but not too warm.

And it’s just as warm this time as he sinks into it, breath escaping him in a bubbly sigh.

There’s a loud splashing sound above him, and he squints his eyes open, but the saltwater makes everything blurry, and his eyes hurt already, so he squints them shut again. Something grabs at his arm, yanking him upwards.

And he resists, because this water is really warm and nice, and he actually rather likes it, really. Whatever is dragging him around, though, doesn't seem to care what he thinks, but he’s unceremoniously pushed onto dry land a moment later.

He breathes in, coughing a little and squinting his eyes open to watch as he coughs up water. His throat feels dry and scratchy, and his vision is still blurry. Blurry enough that he can't see much beyond vague shapes and colours.

Something moves in front of him, a little water lapping at his fingers as he opens his eyes a little more to try and get a better look at the- whatever it is in front of him. There’s a flash of deep blue, and then the whatever-it-was thing is gone. Huh.

Something flicks him on the forehead, and he blinks his eyes open again, finding that he’s lying on something far softer than the dirt ground, and blinking up at Scott. Scott is staring down at him, eyes flicking over his face, before he leans back so there’s more than just an inch of space between them.

“Good to see you're awake.” Scott says.

“When did I fall asleep?” He asks, going to push himself up, only to wince when sharp pain lances through his hand. He hisses beneath his breath, easing his weight off that hand.

“You didn't.” Scott smiles at him, but it’s the kind of smile someone wears when they're trying to hold back a laugh. “I didn't know you were squeamish.”

“I'm not.”

“Then why did you pass out at the sight of blood?” Scott asks, head tilting to the side. The bandages around Martyn’s fingers make them feel thick and clumsy, and the pain that sparks through his palm every time he flexes them is enough to stop him from moving that hand too much. “Sounds like you're pretty squeamish to me.”

“I'm not.” He protests, though his attempts seem to be in vain because Scott has actually started laughing at him now.

“Mhm,” Scott nods. “Seems like your hourglass is going on hiatus for a short while.”

“Ugh,” he lets his head drop back to the pillow, staring up at the sky. It’s cloudless. “Did I fall in the water?” He asks, after a moment.

“Yes, why?”

“My clothes feel all…disgusting.”

“Well, I didn't wash them for you. I'm not your personal servant.” Scott pokes him on the arm, just hard enough to hurt.

“Never said you were,” he rubs at his arm absently, frowning at Scott. “Did you see any big fish while I was attempting to drown myself?”

“Big…fish?” Scott’s back has gone a little stiff, and he looks down at Martyn with confusion.

“Yeah, kinda blue-y. Didn't see it for long, but.” He shrugs, which is actually a lot more difficult to do lying down than he thought it would be.

“No, I didn't see anything like that.”

“Hm.” Is all Martyn says in response. He doesn't buy it for one moment, but Scott’s stiffer than a stick of bamboo, and he knows when to leave well enough alone. “Alright then.”

=== === ===

He wakes up to something that is very much so silence, but there was also definitely something that just woke him up- something that was not silence. But it’s dark, and the moon is just past a new moon, meaning he is blind and left scrambling around in the dark for a light source that might reveal what just made a noise and then abruptly stopped making noise.

He fumbles around for a few moments longer, attempting to find a light source- any kind will do, really, he just wants to be able to see rather than scramble around helplessly and hope that it’s not someone come to kill him. Oh god, he hopes it’s not someone come to kill him.

He manages to find a torch eventually, hands closing tightly around it, before he begins another search for something to light it with. It takes him several more long and painful moments to find something to light it with. Because it is dark, and he is blind.

When he does light it, he almost expects to find someone looming over him, before unseen in the darkness now brought into the light and silhouetted by the moon before they kill him where he sleeps. But the torch doesn't light up any ominous figure, and it doesn't reflect off of any weaponry either.

He relaxes a little, laughing to himself slightly as he slumps down into his bed. He’s careful to keep the torch away from his bedsheets, as he’d rather not accidentally set himself on fire. He’s had enough accidents in the past few days, and his hand is still sore and tender from his most recent stunt.

But he still hasn't found whatever it was that woke him up in the first place- and it wouldn't have been the bamboo or sugarcane shaking in the breeze either, because he’s gotten used to the quiet sounds they make when the breeze leaps over the water and towards them- hard not to get used to them when he’s constantly surrounded by the sound.

The sound of the waves against the edges of the island also hadn't bothered him beyond the first night, where he’d had to cover his ears with his pillow because he just couldn't sleep and the waves didn't stop. But he can tune them out easily now, and it becomes just another part of the background noise of their island.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to look around, because he is being far, far, too paranoid for his own good, really. No one has even gone red yet! It’s way too early for someone to be red, and the next boogeyman hasn't even been picked yet. So, really, the only thing he’s got to worry about is Skizz. And he highly doubts Skizz is going to make a trip over to their base in the middle of the night to murder him in his sleep. Especially when Scott is right next to him and it would be two-versus-one-

Or, it would be, if Scott was currently in his bed. Which he’s not. The bedsheets are pushed down to the bottom of the bed, lying in a crumpled heap that is a far cry from the way Scott normally makes his bed (Martyn’s convinced Scott does it just to shame him into making his bed as well. Which won't work! It’s been tried before, and it’s not going to start working now, of all times).

But the bed has obviously been slept in, which Martyn also knows because they’d gone to bed at the same time after putting the campfire out. Martyn had chucked a bucket of water over it for good measure, aware of how easily the fire could spread to the grass and then they’d be toast - literally.

He does a cursory glance around the island, holding the torch up a little higher as he peers around. But it’s not a very big island, and the only potential hiding spots are behind his hourglass (which is see-through) and behind the chests (which is just dumb). And Scott is nowhere to be seen, even as Martyn looks around again, in case he missed something on his first sweep.

But the results remain the same, and Scott is nowhere to be seen. But, when he presses a hand to Scott’s bed, it’s still warm, meaning he can't have been gone for very long. Which also means that Scott moving about was probably what woke him up in the first place.

The circumstances are still odd, but Scott has had multiple chances to let him die over the past few days, so he’s feeling rather secure in their alliance right now.

Scott’s mysterious disappearance aside, he’s awake now, and rather unlikely to go back to sleep anytime soon. Especially as Scott is still gone, and he probably won't be able to relax until the other returns. Safety in numbers, and all that. If it’s just him on his own, he’s much more vulnerable to an attack, but if Scott’s here, then there’s two of them, and they can both make sure the other doesn't die in a stupid way.

And he might also be a little worried.

Sue him! His teammate disappears in the middle of the night without so much as a word, a note, or even a private message to let him know where he’s gone. Instead, he’s left on an island in the pitch dark with no knowledge about his teammate’s whereabouts.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, shuffling towards where he’d kicked his sandals off earlier. The sound of his feet against the wooden boards is barely audible. He slips the sandals on easily, stepping down onto the grass a moment later, beginning to putter around their area.

Some of the sugar cane has grown tall enough to be harvested, and so he chops a few of the stems, bundling them together in one hand as he moves onto the next plant, repeating the process. Once he has enough sugarcane that he can't carry any more, he meanders over to their chests, dumping the sugarcane inside, organising it slightly so Scott doesn't complain about it in the morning.

He goes back over to the next section of sugarcane that has grown enough, cutting the stems again, repeating until he can't carry anymore. He returns to the chest with his second load. He doesn't return to cutting the sugarcane after that, mainly because there isn't any more sugarcane to cut, but also because Scott isn't back yet, and he’s beginning to get more than a little worried about his wellbeing.

He sits at the edge of their island, in a small gap he’s created in the bamboo and sugarcane, for easy access for boats from the rear of the island- perfect for a quick escape if they ever needed to make one.

He allows his legs to trail through the water, kicking them back and forth, watching as it laps at his knees, the waves breaking before they reach the very edge of the island. The water is as warm as it always is, just a little bit cooler than a hot bath, but it’s darker than it usually is as well.

During the day, the waters are a crystalline blue, allowing them to see to the very bottom. He’s spent more than a few hours sat watching the wildlife dart in and out of the coral, tracking the shimmering shoals of fish that make their slow way through the coral reef.

He can hardly see the coral now, only vague shapes clustered together, some of them stretching up higher than the others. He can't see anything swimming between the bits of coral, but that doesn't mean that there’s nothing down there- there is almost certainly something that he can't see.

Even the faint glow of the sea pickles is hardly enough to light up the seabed, only a small pool of light around each one that’s so dim he can hardly see it.

He continues to sit there, ignoring thoughts of something swimming up and grabbing his ankle to pull him into the depths- there’s not going to be anything large enough to do that to him, and a small clownfish isn't going to be big enough to eat him, even if it tries its very best.

The water is soothing, at least, and he allows himself to stare at the small ripples, forgetting about his worry for a brief moment.

At least, he manages to forget about it until he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He freezes, hands twisting into the grass at his side, threatening to uproot it. He watches as the shape moves, glittering scales outlining the apparent size of the thing.

It’s…large. Very big. Easily half the length of their entire island, if not a bit over. And things that big are hardly ever herbivores. And it is with that thought that he rather hurriedly pulls his legs out of the water, standing up. He doesn't move away from the edge, though, watching as the shimmering scales- bioluminescent, his brain reminds him, continue to circle around the island, almost lazily, before disappearing from sight.

He swallows, brain flashing to all worst-case scenarios. All of which involve him still being stood at the edge of the island when that…whatever it was reappears.

He backpedals, maybe a little hastily, and it might be stupid to feel a little safer when he’s back in his bed, sandals kicked off at the bottom of it. But Martyn has long since accepted that he might be a little stupid.

That feeling of safety doesn't help him get much sleep, though. But he must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he wakes up Scott is back, and he’s handing him a mug of coffee almost immediately- and Scott is definitely a godsend at times like this, he can't even deny it.

He doesn't ask where Scott went the previous night, and Scott doesn't offer any explanations. He also puts the sea monster (he is perfectly justified in calling it that! He doesn't know what it is!) out of his mind as best as he can.

And his best is almost good enough for him to completely forget about it

=== === ===

VI.

In all honesty, he had expected Scott’s suspicious behaviour to have more of a dramatic conclusion to it- something that would be shocking and just! Something different from what actually happened, at least. Because the way it happened is possibly the most stupid way Martyn has found out someone’s big and terrible secret (and he’s discovered several big secrets, each of which had far more explosive endings than this one did).

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, both of his arms full of the logs Martyn had left to collect because they were running low, and he rather enjoys their evenings around the fire with nothing but the crackling flames between them, which cast a rather complimentary light onto Scott’s face and makes the eyeshadow he wears glow even brighter than normal.

He makes direct eye contact with Scott, and Scott stares back at him. Scott is dripping wet, arms braced on the edge of their grassy island and in the process of hauling himself up. Scott is staring at him, and Martyn continues to stare back at him. Scott is covered in scales, deep blue scales that are really quite familiar-

Scott disappears with a small splash. Martyn drops the logs, not really caring if they land on the island or roll merrily into the water, instead sprinting over to the other side of the island and dropping to the ground, peering down into the water, hoping to catch any glimpse of Scott.

There’s a flash of blue scales between two things of coral, and he spares about a second to think through his idea before he’s kicking his sandals in and dropping his jacket off. He hesitates for a millisecond after that, and then simply dives in, plunging beneath the surface.

The one thing he appreciates about this biome is that the water is never a cold shock. The worst part about diving into water is always the cold shock, but the water here is warm, meaning he doesn't have to regather his bearings before he starts swimming after Scott.

It takes him a few seconds to realise that there is absolutely no way he’s going to catch up with Scott when the man is some kind of aquatic hybrid adapted for swimming. And he’s struggling to catch up with the other man for god’s sake.

He swims between the pieces of coral he had seen Scott swim between, ignoring the burn that’s beginning in his lungs, glancing around and squinting for any flicker of scales that would betray Scott’s whereabouts.

Something grabs him from behind, and he thrashes around for a moment, bubbles spilling from his mouth, and he almost inhales again on instinct before realising that he’s underwater, and that he definitely can't breathe underwater.

He breaks the surface, gasping for air as the grip on his arm remains iron, keeping him afloat as he regains his breath. He hadn't even realised his vision had started greying out a little until it began to clear up.

“Man,” he laughs. “I have gotta stop drowning myself, huh?”

“You are so incredibly stupid!” Scott responds, voice growling as he yells at him. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

“Wasn't, really.” He would shrug, but he’d also rather not accidentally submerge himself again, so he settles for a grin.

“I just-” Scott cuts himself off, shaking his head. It’s then that Martyn really gets an opportunity to take Scott in, eyes drifting over his face, taking in every small detail. He can see now, closer, that the eyeshadow that decorates the edges of Scott’s eyes isn't actually eyeshadow and is instead small scales. Scales which now spread to cover his cheeks and nose like some kind of freckle. Like, deep blue freckles.

In contrast, the fins at the side of his head are an orange-pink, fluttering slightly in agitation as they fan open before snapping shut again. The membrane of them is thin enough that he can see the sunlight filtering through them, making them almost glow.

“Huh.” He says, which is apparently enough to get Scott’s attention.

“Are you even listening to me?” Scott asks, and, huh, he didn't know Scott could growl like that.

“Not really,” he says. “I'm more caught up in your whole.” He gestures, because he doesn't really have words for what he’s thinking or feeling right now.

Scott’s eyes narrow and he pulls the arm supporting Martyn back, meaning he has to work to keep his head afloat. He reaches out for Scott again, grabbing onto his shoulders- and, oh wow, he’s not wearing a shirt. Like, at all. Huh.

He stares at Scott’s chest, and the scales covering large parts of it. They glint in the sunlight, wet from the water, which only makes them shine even more. They're smooth beneath his hand, and he finds himself rubbing a thumb back and forth over Scott’s shoulder without even thinking about it.

“Martyn,” Scott’s voice is half-strangled as he speaks, and when Martyn looks back at his face, away from the tail he had just noticed, he finds that Scott’s fins are pressed flat against his head, face faintly pink.

“Ah, sorry.” He stops rubbing his thumb over the scales on Scott’s shoulder, even though the pink flush of his face is really quite pretty- and. He’s not going to think about that one too hard, actually.

“It’s fine they're just,” Scott clears his throat, “sensitive.” One of Scott’s hands comes to rest beneath his elbow, supporting him a little more. “Aren't you a little- y’know, unnerved?”

“By what?”

“The whole scales and fishtail thing?” Scott quirks an eyebrow. “Normally people run screaming the other way.”

“I was more worried you were gonna freak out, honestly.” Martyn confesses. You looked a bit stressed before you just ducked back under.”

“Well, I am fine.” Scott clears his throat again, glancing away. “As lovely as this conversation is, I’d rather not be caught looking like this.”

“Why not? You look quite nice, honestly.”

“I- what?” The pink flush staining Scott’s cheeks is only barely visible beneath the scales covering most of them, but the scale-less parts of his neck and shoulders have turned pink as well.

“Aw, c’mon, Scott,” he leans a little closer, which isn't actually all that hard with their current positions. “You've been flirting with me for several days now, don't think I didn't notice.”

“I am a fish, Martyn.” Scott deadpans. “I am a literal fish and you're still absolutely onboard with this.”

“Absolutely still onboard with this, besides.” He rubs his thumb over Scott’s shoulder again, summoning his confidence with the action as he leans a little closer, close enough for their noses to brush. “You look really quite lovely right now- I thought you were wearing some really nice eyeshadow this whole time, and instead it’s these wonderful scales.”

“Martyn, stop, you're being ridiculous.”

“Aw, Scott.” He frowns as Scott pushes him away.

“I am not kissing you while we’re both in the middle of the ocean.” Scott says. “Also you stink of sweat.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.” Scott pats him on the cheek. “You've been chopping trees all morning, and you're definitely flattering me right now; but I also have standards, and those standards include not kissing people that smell of sweat.”

“You're so rude to me, and after I was so nice to you.”

“I’ll be nice to you once you don't smell of sweat, dear.”

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nanamimizz · 1 year

Text

tags: anal sex, afab reader, fingering, overstimulation, barebacking, dacryphilia,mention of jealousy, kunigami feels like a freak lmfao

synopsis: a new kind of lust burns before kunigami, and he doesn’t know if he can take it.

Kunigami can’t help but feel some sort of shameful lust in his stomach when he sees you like this - on your stomach, you’re gripping the pillow he sleeps on and you are looking over your shoulder to peer at him with wide eyes. This was his idea but he doesn’t think he can take it now that you are laid bare before him, soft little shorts tugged down your thighs alongside your panties that shine in the low light with the glimmers of your excitement. Your cunt is bare and it’s like his mind doesn’t know what to focus on - the soft folds and flushed clit that begs for his attention or the cute little rimmed hole that you so sweetly present for him at his request.

You whine softly in the heat of your shared bedroom and it’s so hard not to come undone at how his name sounds from your mouth all sweet and butter. You’re already open - slick and loose from his fingers and his tongue, you arch your back and he can see the way you clench around nothing. Autumn eyes consume you with the fire of his desire, and you taste as sweet as you look, as you sound, and as you are.

“I’m going to put it in now,” His voice stays strong no matter how much he trembles on the inside under the weight of his lust. Kunigami feels like an animal - a beast losing itself unto its passion and his breath dies in his throat when the first inch of his cock presses its way into you. His head is sensitive and overcome by the tight heat of your loosened hole, slick with lube and his own salvia from when he spat on you to watch you jolt and whine into the pillow. You gasp, back tensing from the pleasure. Kunigami is desperate as he is considerate so he keeps one hand on your cunt and strums at your flushed, glimmering pearl with expert fingers. His hips are slow but steady, your ass taking his cock inch by inch as your thighs tremble from the buzzing pleasure of your clit being toyed with.

It doesn’t surprise him when you cum with a high whine, whimper, and a shuddering intake of breath. Your thighs seek to close shut but his hand is too big, too strong for your lax body to struggle when and you feel yourself dripping down the seam of your cunt when you feel his hips flush with the cheeks of your ass.

“Y-your inside, oh my god, oh god!” You cry, pressing your face into his pillow that grows damp with the pristine salt of your tears. Kunigami groans into your ear, a deep and rumbling sound as he hunches over the curve of your back. His nose burrows into your hair, parting the locks until his lips find the nape of your neck - he can’t help himself but bite at the soft skin. Kunigami almost purrs when you gasp whether from the bite of his thrust or tense and squeeze at the shaft of his cock beautifully.

“Fuck,” he chokes on the squeeze and you shiver as his panting breaths tickle your sensitive neck - the heat makes your bite mark sting in a way that you can’t help but like. You twitch and flutter around him, and something wet and cold trails down your thighs - a draft of air is felt in your most intimate of areas and it’s because Kunigami had spread you apart. His hand that was free - big, warm, and greedy had sunk into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading yourself so he can watch how you take him into yourself in this new way.

He pounds himself into you, fingers never leaving your cunt - now his fingers are curling inside of you and everything aches. The tightness of your nipples, the flutters of your silken walls, and how your clit throbs with the want for something that you already have inside of you. You moan something pretty, saying his name over and over again like you are a devotee to the divine not having your cute ass fucked for the first time in your life. A vein could be felt pounding on the side of Kunigami’s forehead when he thinks about someone else having you, seeing you in this way. The pretty sounds you make for him are replaced when all he can hear is the creaking of his teeth as he bites down on nothing. His thrusts speed up - faster and stronger and somehow deeper than before; you don’t think you’re going to come out of this alive. Your back arches and you both moan so loudly, Kunigami doesn’t know how he’s going to face the neighbors in the morning when fetching the paper. A pulse is felt in his spine, the all-too-familiar heat that tells him that he is nearing the baseline of his limitations. Kunigami grits his teeth Kunigami is ruthless in how he curls his fingers against the spongiest spot of your inner walls. You come with a wail, some weak and pathetic sound that matches ur how you look right now.

Teary-eyed and drooling, clutching a pillow to your chest the tight trembles of your body are what tugs out his own orgasm from the marrow of his bones to the tip of his cock - barely managing to pull out in time to cum over the dip of your waist and lower back. It trickles down, following the patterns of your stretch marks that litter the curve of your ass. He watches with weary eyes, the last dying embers of desire as his cum trickles down to cover up the cute little birthmark of you on your ass cheek. Without hesitation, he swipes at it - grins when he sees the innocent little mark and grins even wider when he hears your gasp when he grinds the thumb covered in his spend in a tight circle on your flushed clit.

Kunigami bends over you - skin-taught and tan and strong in every way that makes your head spin.

“Let’s do this again, yeah?” He rasps his core still aching with the tightness of your hole and Kunigami can’t help but laugh at the tired “okay” you let out before collapsing beneath.

#lamb.writes #kunigami smut #kunigami rensuke smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut

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tamayakii · 8 months

Text

Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

#HOTD x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere hotd x reader #yandre house of the dragon #yandere hord #otto hightower x reader #yandere #Viserys Targaryen x reader #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #Larys Strong x reader #yandere Larys Strong #Yandere Otto Hightower #Yandere viserys targaryen #yandere rhaenrya targaryen

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theres-a-body-here · 8 months

Text

Killers with Pearl!Reader

You cried, begged, and pleaded for anyone who take a chance on you. You dreamed of becoming a star. The Entity gladly reached out her claw, promising you the role of all eternity. You gratefully accepted. You thanked your "supporters" and blew kisses into the air as you walked into the cold, empty fog.

The stage was finally yours

The Ghostface

Danny wasn't amused

He was put on babysitting duty by the Entity; show you the ropes, make sure the others don't bully you, etc.

He had his work cut out for him

You were quite the mess

Neurotic, bratty, and downright vicious when things didn't go your way

This translated into your trials going pretty bad

Gen rushing and whole team escapes

Danny could work with this

He would turn you into the best killer around

(second to him, of course)

Even if it took forever

And in the Entity's realm, there was no rush

You found yourself in the realm alongside Ghostface, within the eerie recreation of your family's farm, sculpted by the Entity. As you practiced your axe swings, he leaned against a decaying fence, arms folded. He let out an exasperated sigh and halted your motions, his voice cutting through the tense air.

"Hey, hold up," he remarked, his masked face giving away little emotion. "You're not getting that technique right. You're swinging way too wildly. You gotta be precise or the survivors are gonna have an easy time spinning you."

Your brows furrowed, a mixture of annoyance and defiance brewing within you. "Oh, really? And who made you the expert on my style?"

He shrugged casually. "Just trying to help. No need to get all bristly."

A surge of frustration rose within you. You clutched your axe handle tighter, your knuckles whitening. "I don't need your help. I'm destined for greatness. I'm meant to be a star."

Danny's expression remained inscrutable behind his mask, but his tone turned more serious. "Being a star means learning and improving. Even stars have to take criticism."

Your grip on the axe tightened even more, your fingers trembling slightly. The words hit a nerve, a raw vulnerability you rarely let show. "I can handle the criticism just fine. But not from you, and not when I'm on the cusp of something big."

Danny lets out another sigh, which carried annoyance. "Fine, have it your way. Just remember, the Entity doesn't care about your style points. It wants results."

You stared at him, a battle of wills and egos in the air. The urge to swing your axe in frustration warred with the nagging truth in his words.

"You just can't stand the idea of someone else shining brighter, can you?" you retorted, your words dripping with bitterness. "But guess what? I'm going to be a star, and then I'll be her favorite, not you."

The Twins

Charlotte warmed up to you pretty quick, even if she didn't know what the hell an actor was

Victor was happy his sister was happy, so he liked you too

You both hung out at your farm

The twins felt a little bit in their element

Nice open space with animals. Nature surrounding them

Victor liked the chickens

Charlotte liked the lightbulbs

You liked having an audience

You gladly put on plays and theatric reenactments of poetry for them

Mostly performed at the killer camp

You're absolutely terrible

Having been hiding for most of their lives, The Deshayes siblings had no frame of reference

You were amazing in their eyes

You spun and kicked your feet as you sang for the twins. Your dancing was stiff and your singing was worse. Out of breath and voice cracks littered throughout the number. The twins were in awe. Victor swayed and gargled out some semblance of the melody he was hearing as Charlotte was clapping to the beat.

The Nightmare chuckled at your awkward attempt at show tunes. He had always enjoyed mocking others. And as he saw your "dancing", he couldn't resist mocking the new fish.

"Looks like we've got a new clown in town," he snickered, gesturing towards you as he glanced at Kenneth, who in turn gave Freddy a nasty glare.

But his laughter quickly came to a halt when he caught sight of Charlotte giving him the death stare, her hands tightly gripping her sickle. Victor didn't seem to notice as he was still glued to your performance.

Julie swiftly elbowed Freddy in the gut and snapped at him "Shut the fuck up before you get gutted asshole"

The Cannibal

Instant connection between the two of you

Both of you being raised at Farms all your lives

The Entity never recreated Bubba's farm

So you let him move into yours

You wanted more fans

Bubba squealed with joy when you told him of your offer

He wasted no time getting his things

He spent so long hugging every animal he could catch

He misses his family

Please comfort him

You also act for him

He claps and squeals happily

He'll join you if you talk him into it

You could hardly contain their excitement as they twirled and pirouetted around Bubba.

"C'mon Bubba, you gotta try it! It's so much fun," You insisted with a wide grin.

Bubba cocked his head to one side, making an animalistic noise that loosely resembled a question.

"Yes, I mean dancing and singing with me," You explained patiently. "I promise we'll have a good time."

Bubba considered the proposition for a moment before nodding his head vigorously - clearly excited at the prospect of sharing something new with his friend.

And so You began to sing – your voice cracking horribly as you struggled to find the right notes. Bubba followed along by making strange grunting noises, attempting to mimic what he heard from your mouth.

As terrible as the duet was, there was something almost freeing about it. For just a few moments, you felt like Anita Stewart.

You both continued flailing around and shouting lyrics until both of you collapsed onto the ground in exhausted laughter - bounding over each other like children who had just finished playing tag.

The Legion

Being one of the younger killers, it was only a matter of time before The Legion sought you out

Susie really wanted to meet you after being in a Trial in your realm

"They have a farm, Frank! I really wanna pet a cow. Please Please Please"

Frank couldn't say no to her

They arrive to your realm and walk in on you slow dancing with a scarecrow

Talk about awkward

You quickly drop Howard to greet your guests

"Oh Hello! I didn't think anyone would drop by"

You giggle as you sway in your red dress like you weren't caught doing something unhinged

It's clear you don't see the issue with it

Despite the rocky start, the Legion warms up to you

And then Frank discovered Theda

"IS THAT A FUCKING GATOR?!?!?!?!"

Frank was stunned as he pointed at Theda sunbathing at the lake's bank

Your family farm instantly became the second Legion hideout

You sat among the legion teens near the bank of your realm's farm, throwing bits of food into the lake for Theda. The alligator was a rare source of entertainment and joy in the realm, and they had come to enjoy these peaceful moments by the water.

Frank leaned forward eagerly, watching as Theda slowly approached their makeshift buffet.

"Come on girl, do a death-roll for us!" he shouted excitedly. He turned back to you with an expectant tone. "You think she'll do it?"

"Well, I don't know," replied you nonchalantly. "She doesn't usually go for those kinds of tricks."

But just as you spoke, Theda suddenly lunged out of the water and snatched up a piece of meat in her powerful jaws. With surprising agility for such a massive creature, she spun around in one swift motion - performing a full death-roll that left Frank cheering triumphantly.

"You fucking saw that?! Holy shit, that was awesome!" he exclaimed.

Susie giggled at Frank's excitement while Julie rolled her eyes behind her mask. Joey was simply lying on the grass with his arms behind his head as he watched the clouds.

The group continued to throw bits of snacks into the water amidst laughter and chatter while keeping an eye on Theda's movements.

Masterlist here

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #pearl!reader #killer!reader #killers x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #the twins #The twins x reader #the cannibal #cannibal x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #the legion #the legion x reader

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aheathen-conceivably · 7 months

Text

In the first weeks of 1930, a slow passenger train rode through the desert hills of New Mexico. It had begun its journey in the city of New Orleans before heading north alongside the snaking brown waters of the Mississippi River.

From there it had stopped in St. Louis, Missouri before it turned back south, following old pioneer trails as it cut through the American Southwest on the way to its final destination in Los Angeles, California.

In one of the cars, the light, determined click of a woman's heels fell in line with the rhythm of the rails below her feet. The sound had defined her life for weeks, yet she found it just as droning now as the day she had first boarded the train. She made her way from her own cabin, where her niece and brother were spending the final hour of their journey, to the room where her soon to be sister-in-law was readying herself.

As she approached the door a rail attendant appeared in the car to alert the passengers, “Next stop Strangerville, New Mexico! All passengers ready your luggage! I repeat all passengers ready your luggage!”

Josephine increased her pace and rapped loudly on the door, wanting to ensure that her arrival could be heard above the railway attendant's call in the next car. A small voice told her to enter, barely audible alongside the thundering sound from below.

Josephine entered Zelda and Antoine's suite, which was larger than the one she had shared with Violette during the journey. Half smoked cigarettes and thrice-read books clattered against opulently carved woodwork bolted to the walls. Amidst it all stood Zelda in a white silk wedding dress, preoccupied with her reflection as she pinned a final curl in a perfect curve.

For a moment Josephine forgot the rail’s droning sound or the conductor’s hurried call, “Zelda, you….you look marvelous.”

Zelda turned briefly to acknowledge Jo’s presence, self consciously smoothing down the silk of her dress before she turned back to the mirror to fiddle with the clasp of her pearls, “Do I, truly? I’m afraid it’s quite old fashioned now, isn’t it? I suppose I should have gotten something new rather than just dyeing this old dress…”

Josephine walked over to her, taking the pearls from her shaking hands. As the car rattled on, she couldn’t tell if it was from the constant movement or her friend’s nerves. She spoke to her as she fastened the necklace, “It’s perfect, ma sœur, absolutely perfect. Are you ready? It’s time to put the luggage near the door; we’re the next stop.”

When Zelda didn’t answer Josephine turned her around, softening her face and her voice, “Zelda, you can talk to me, if you need to. Whatever it is. If you aren’t ready I’ll speak with Antoine. Whatever you need.”

Zelda looked at her curiously before an immense happiness overtook her face. She grabbed Josephine’s hands and smiled, “Jo, I’m only nervous because I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. I’ve waited so long; we’ve waiting so long, it simply feels surreal. Like it’s impossible to feel so much happiness all at once without something going wrong.”

Josephine’s heart soared for her, and then sank as she realized that Zelda had learned to expect misfortune so much that she couldn’t even truly give herself over to excitement in that moment. “Zelda, everything will be wonderful, I promise you. You’ve been through enough, okay? Both of you. Today will be perfect.”

(A very special thank you to @simtleman for creating this gorgeous train build and then sharing it with me as well as all the CC creators you used to make it so stunning ♥️)

#1930 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #the darlingtons #1930s #josephine duplanchier #zelda darlington

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peachjaem00 · 3 months

Text

au: Happy birthday to my man, the love of my life Jae! And happy Valentine´s day lovelies <3

warnings: mentions of weed, to smoke a blunt with jae UGHHH my literal dream!

[11:50 pm] Jaehyun knew it was late. He knew that the second he'd step a foot on the door he was going to find nothing but darkness accompanied by the slight noise of the night and your sleeping figure. He knew his work ruined not only his Valentine’s Day but his birthday and the opportunity to spend it with his partner. He loved his job but it was moments like these where the idol life really took a toll on him.

He opened the door waiting to be received by the silent apartment but your standing figure alongside a living room filled with fluffy blankets, the coffee table filled with popcorn and snacks, the tv with the beginning of one of his favorite movies on pause and a gift on your hands was the first thing that he saw.

“What the fuck?” You smiled by seeing how surprised he actually was.

You knew you weren’t gonna be able to go out for Valentine’s Day because of his schedule, so you planned a movie marathon where you watched all of the movies he liked, which you usually didn’t watch because you’re not the biggest fan.

“What’s all this?” He dropped his bag on the floor and walked towards you. When he was finally in front of you his hands moved on his own, positioning themselves on your forearms since your hands were holding a big gift bag.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” You said with the biggest smile which he mirrored. “And happy birthday!” You push the bag in front of him, the excitement was very evident in your eyes. “C’mon open it!”

Jaehyun opened the bag with such delicacy, he didn’t want to rip it so he can keep it as a little memento of this precious occasion. He gasped when he saw the content of the bag. A first edition of his favorite vinyl record, a new watch and several blunts, you must have known his stash was empty -he thanked the lord since he hated rolling them up-.

“No fucking way!” He said with the biggest smile on his face. “This is way too much, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Oh please, it was my pleasure.” He hugged you with such force it hurt a little bit you didn’t care. “You deserve nothing but the best Jae.”

“That must be why I have you as a partner.” You could feel your cheeks getting warm. “I got you something too.” He said after breaking the hug. “It’s not much and it’s small but I think you’ll like it.” He took out a little box out of his bag and gave it to you.

“Oh you didn’t have to Jae give me anything, it’s your birthday, not mine.” You admired the box. It was a deep navy blue, velvet, and a little heavy.

“It’s valentines tho, my baby deserves something.” You blushed even though he always calls you that, you still blush.

You opened the box and gasped at the contents of it. A beautiful pearl necklace lays inside the box with a little medal that has J+ your initial. It was so beautiful you couldn’t believe it.

“Jaehyun, oh my god.” He grabbed the necklace and put it on you. You could feel the brush of his fingers on your skin, the goosebumps followed no long after their touch. “I love it, thank you so much.” Your voice is soft but it was filled with gratitude and love.

“I love you baby.” And then he kissed your lips, those lips he adored so much.

“I love you too.”

“What about we light one of these up and start our movie marathon huh?” He already had the blunt and the lighter out, he was just waiting for you to give the green light.

“Sounds perfect.” You smiled and laughed at his excitement.

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merakiui · 16 days

Note

RAHHHH Mera you lovely genius, I just read Rabu and I am still freaking out about it!! Jade’s subtle possessiveness throughout the story and how it’s just perceived as a loving husband’s snark, and how the reader is even more stuck with him than before now that they’re carrying his child oh my stars-

This was the perfect amount of unsettling build up, Jade’s being such a delicious (pun intended) little bastard and that’s why he’s my favorite. I do suppose he’ll be suggesting a visit to his parent’s soon, he needs to tell them that they’re getting a grandchild 🤭

(“No my pearl this is not about rubbing it in Floyd’s face I have no clue what you could ever be speaking of” -Jade, probably)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) his possessiveness disguised as snark is one of my favorite things about RABU!Jade. To everyone else, it's lighthearted and humorous. But Jade really is quite possessive of his dear wife. ;;;;;; and now that you're pregnant those feelings have increased tenfold!!!! Floyd needs to be mindful of his hands, or else Jade might be compelled to break them. >_<

And the visit to his parents!!!!! They're so excited to be grandparents ("it's about time," they probably joke). You look a little shaken, though... perhaps you're still reeling from such exciting news!! Surely it's nothing else... definitely nothing to do with a certain secret ingredient you've recently discovered!

And Jade......... oh, he rubs it in Floyd's face every chance he gets. In fact, he rubs it in everyone's faces, but no one gets it worse than Floyd and Detective Ashengrotto. Jade is so annoying. T_T but he's also very happy, and he can't wait to be a father and raise a child alongside you. <3

#sweet messages

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asumofwords · 8 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Court, death, mentions of violence.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! We are getting closer and closer to the end! Only 3 more chapters to go, I can't wait to finish this with you. I know I sound like a broken record, but jesus! I've had this bad boy ageing in my computer waiting to be posted haha. Anyone, Enjoy! <3

Chapter 107: And So The Tide Rushes to Shore

The news of the seizing of Kings Landing by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen spread across the realm like wild fire. There was no corner that had not heard the news, nor person that had not swallowed in apprehension.

But the promise of war was over.

There would be no war.

No torching of the realm and its innocents, no destruction of Keeps and homes and livestock. No call for men to join armies and fight for the throne in a bloody and violent death. Nor women and children who would be left alone without their fathers, or husbands.

However, now was a time where the fragility of her rule would hang upon a delicate thread, and although Rhaenyra had her supporters, there were still those who had supported Aegon’s rule, and then subsequently Aemond’s.

The Small Council of the Greens had been rounded into cells by guards and knights. Gold cloaks flooding the Keep at the order of Daemon, a man who they had kept their allegiance to for all his time spent away.

And as Rhaenyra had personally escorted you, alongside Daemon, towards your original chambers, the ones that you grew up in, and not the one that now housed the corpse of your late husband, you walked quietly, dagger still in your hand, Daemon’s fingers unable to pry it from you just yet.

The corridors were a mess of Lords and Ladies, maids and servants who rushed and fled, were captured, and otherwise scattering like ants as they were unsure of what to do, or what was to come.

Above you, four large dragons, circled the Keep, crying out into the air. A vision of red, and green, and pale pearl flying about as they surveyed the Red Keep below. One outsized them all.

The bronze scales of Vermithor shimmered brightly in the sun.

A sob of relief fell from your lips as you watched him, looking up at a dragon you had been separated for months from, not being able to see him or know he was okay. There was agitation in his body as he flew, but otherwise he was safe.

He was safe.

And he knew you were too.

When you had gotten to your chambers, Amala and Joanna were already there, waiting, wringing their hands together in anticipation. And upon seeing you, Amala had gasped, and ran towards you, hands checking your face for wounds, no doubt shocked by the blood.

Daemon turned to the girls, “Fetch her some water for a bath.”

And with that, their fussing and stress stopped, and they sprung into action, running from the chambers. Both girls eyes dragging over your body and the crown atop your head as they exited.

It was weird to be back in them.

The chambers that felt alien to you now.

You stood in the room you had once called your own and breathed, slowly walking over to your old table to place the dagger atop it, finally feeling safe. Finally feeling as though you didn't need the blade any longer. That the last piece of safety Aemond had given to you had served its purpose. And it was then that you breathed, truly breathed. Breathed for the first time since coming to the Red Keep.

It was over.

You stood as you were and watched the maids return, another younger girl in tow, blonde and thin, who bowed and introduced herself quietly to you, ‘Ceryse, Your Grace’, eyes widening at the blood on your skin and hair before she averted her eyes, face having turned ashen.

Daemon and Rhaenyra waited with you as they filled the bath, and as the chamber doors opened once again, you had expected one of the girls to be bringing more water to rinse you with, but instead, you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes.

Jacaerys.

You sucked in a sob as he raced across the chambers, crashing his body into yours as he gripped you tightly. You almost fell backwards from the clashing of your bodies, arms curled under his and up his back, squeezing the leather riding tunic he wore to you tightly.

He smelt of dragon, of musk, and the subtle sulfur of dragon flame. But most of all, he smelt of home.

You half sobbed and half laughed, overjoyed and grieving all at once in his arms. Hands shaking around him as he squeezed you tightly. His chest shaking as he sobbed himself, holding you outwards in his arms as his eyes roamed your body, looking you over.

He was taller, so much taller than he had been, and broader too. His hair was long against his shoulders and curled, pulled behind his ears by braids.

"You're here." He breathed, as though he was even unsure of it. As if seeing you had confirmed that his greatest fear had not come true.

You nodded, hand coming to touch his jaw gently. He grabbed the wrist that held his face tightly, emotion pouring through his eyes as he shook. And in a turn of familiarity that you only knew from Daemon, he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, eyes shut, brown lashes clumped together and wet as he fought the tears that escaped them.

"I'm here." You breathed, "I'm here."

The rest was a blur.

A blur of reunion, a blur of being bathed, the milky water below turning a soft pink, to an earthy copper as the blood was washed from your hair and face. The maids scrubbing your body with a sponge to pull the dried blood from your skin, Rhaenyra not once leaving your side.

One of the maids had to bring her a chair and tell her to sit down as she anxiously stood between you and the door, eyes darting back and forth, the fear of having you taken from her again ripe.

But nothing had happened. No knights entered to take away, no Greens supporters came to call, no Alicent, or Jasper, or anyone. Just you and your mother, who insisted on brushing and braiding your hair, and you had let her, tears cascading down your cheeks as she hummed to you.

A familiar tune.

Something the maids had sang to you a long time ago, but this time, it was the song of the Goddess Meleys, and you had cried even harder.

She had been there all along.

That evening you dined with your family, exhaustion burrowed deep within your bones.

And it was still all a blur, it felt like a dream still. Sat with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Rhaenys and Baela around the table in the intimate dining hall.

It was almost like it had been before.

Before the war.

As though this was as it was supposed to be.

Almost.

And whilst they celebrated the victory quietly and solemnly, toasting a cup towards you which you lifted your own in response, there was no denying the grief that lingered in the foreground. No denying the grief of the loss of Lucerys and your sister. Their palpable absence. The grief of the war and time lost, of your own child, of Aemond.

Tears escaped your eyes, and you were thankful to be with them, but for the most part, sitting with your family, it felt as though you were watching them all through somebody else’s eyes, as though you were watching from somewhere else, or that you were a puppet from Flea Bottom and somebody, high above in the clouds, was pulling your strings, stretching your cheeks into a smile, nodding your head in agreement, ears listening to tales and comments of relief without truly listening.

It was not a loud and joyous celebration. In fact, it felt more like a funeral, like the one for Laena, like the one for Laenor.

There was no music, there was no dancing, but it was enough.

It was enough to just be with them, to just be in their presence, hear their voices, be able to reach out and touch them if you wanted to. The subtle scents of their own, curling around you in a soft blanket.

You had reached for your goblet at one point during the night, mouth having gone dry at the mention of Aegon, and you had to hold in a scream, eyes finding your hands covered in blood once more. Your eyes had widened in shock, a small inhale ripped into your lungs, and Daemons careful eye from across the room had spotted you.

And though the maids had washed and scrubbed you vigorously, cleaning under your nails with careful hands, even though you knew in your heart that you were clean, it didn't stop your mind from seeing them soaked red with your lovers blood. Covered as they had been that morning.

And he was there.

Watching.

By the corner of the room.

Eye never leaving you.

But you kept a brave face, if only for a while longer, not daring to look where you hands would reach, grasping blinding in front of you, resulting in wine spilt and worried eyes. You had blamed your tired and shaky hands. For how were you to explain that when you looked down upon them you saw the proof of your misdeeds. The proof of your sin. The proof of your betrayal.

Then all too soon, exhaustion creeped over you, and your mother, noticing the shift, escorted you back to your chambers, and readily tucked you into bed, sitting on the side as she looked at you with nothing but love. She brushed your hair from your face, and without a word, climbed into bed beside you. She pulled you to her tightly, and you curled up against her, nestling your head into the crook of her neck to breathe deeply.

And as your eyes were closed, you let yourself pretend that it was him.

Sleep dragged you under, and no dreams haunted you this time, though you felt his presence behind you. And when you woke, still in her arms, her hand was holding your head against her as she breathed, fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair in thought. You shifted, looking up into her lilac eyes which seemed to be shadowed, dark rings on the skin beneath.

She had not slept.

“Did you rest?” You asked, eyes darting across her face as you shifted to sit up in bed.

“I have not slept since the day you left. And now that I have you in my arms again, I am frightened that my eyes shall close, and when they open and you will be gone.”

You swallowed thickly, “I would never leave you.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small smile, though edges pulled down into a frown.

“If it is your wish, I would not keep you here in the Keep. If the memories are-“ She paused, unsure of how to move on, “If it is too much to bear, I would not hold you here. I would not force you to stay.” She whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You frowned at her, “I am your Hand. I am bound by duty to be at your side.”

Rhaenyra let out the breath she had been holding before she nodded, “Duty be damned, I think you have performed yours and then some, more than I ever would have asked you to." She breathed deeply, "The rest of the council and my men shall arrive today. There will be a trial, to convict those who have plotted against me. Those who aided Aegon in the usurpation of the throne. And those who kept you here.”

You shifted in the sheets as you looked at your mother.

Her soft brows pulled slightly together, the frown lines that seemed to now permanently mar her skin, were present with the movements of her lips, which she pressed together into a thin line, moving to open again.

But you beat her to it, “Then we must be ready.”

And so, you were dressed in a black leather bustier, with large winged shoulders, the neck of the leather coming just below your chin. It was a shorter gown, coming just mid calf, and beneath, you wore black trousers and leather boots that tucked them inside, just below the knee. Across your chest was chains, hooped and long against your bust, each end being the opened mouth of a dragon on either side.

The girls braided your hair back, gentle and soft in their movements, both working together as they used small pins with red jewels at their tip to hold your hair up and off of your neck. And all the while, your eyes did not leave the Conquerors Crown that was placed atop the table, smears of blood on the steel and ruby.

Rhaenyra had already left, to be dressed and readied for court in her old chambers, joined by her husband. But you were rooted on the spot, unable to move as you looked at it, watching as the light from the sun caused the ruby to glimmer.

A blood red.

Blood.

Like the blood that had covered you. Like the blood you had tried to stop at Aemond’s neck. The blood that spilled through your hands and his and soaked the sheets and pillows below. The blood that had soaked you.

You would not dare look at your hands, for you knew what you would see.

You blinked and moved towards it.

But it was your crown.

Yours by right.

And so you lifted it, placing it atop your head, revelling in the weight that it pressed down your neck. The weight that then settled in your chest and gut.

With determined steps, you left the chambers, blade tucked into a holder at your side, dried blood still smeared across its blade and hilt as you walked swiftly down to the throne room to meet your Queen, and meet with the rest of the council and Lords of the realm.

All ready to see and watch the true heir to the Iron Throne be seated where she should have always sat, from the moment Viserys had passed, and for her to cast down her judgement on those who went against her.

Traitors and turncloaks alike.

When you entered the throne room, it was bursting with life, and the floor where Larys had laid was stained with his dried blood, a large smear across the stones from where his body had been dragged and removed.

All eyes were on you, each step echoing in the chambers as the people quietened, and your mother lifted her head.

Your father stood at the foot of the throne, Jacaerys beside him, as you came to stand before her.

Ser Erryk Cargyll announced you to the chambers, presenting your titles to the room, “Hand of the Queen.”

With a bow of your head, foot sliding beneath you, you pressed your knee upon the floor and reached a hand up, grasping the crown from your head as you held it towards her, “Your Grace, I give my crown lands and titles to you, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne.” When you stood again, you looked up at your mother who smiled gently at you.

“Princess Y/n, my daughter and first born, you have earnt that crown valiantly, through months of tireless work.” Her voice rose in the chambers, all still as they listened, “You may hold it in your possession, as a reminder of your deeds.” You could feel the eyes of all in the chambers flickering on the back of your head and then to the Queen who sat atop the throne.

“Your acts of bravery have not gone unnoticed, nor has your role in winning this war, and returning the throne and all the realms to me rightfully.” Jacaerys shifted at your fathers side, a small smile pulling at the side of his lips, “And at this time, the succession for the Iron Throne has changed.”

What?

Your breath stopped in your chest, eyes darting to Jacaerys who gave you the slightest tip of his head.

“Let all who stand here bear witness to the naming of my true successor. A successor who had been promised the throne once before.” Her eyes met yours, “Let it be known, that in the eyes of the Realm and before the Old Gods and the New, that my daughter, Princess Y/n Velaryon, is my heir and successor to the Iron Throne. Duty of the Hand of the Queen shall be placed upon Ser Corlys Velaryon.”

Heir.

Successor.

You blinked.

You were her heir.

You were the heir to the Iron Throne.

"But now," the Queen continued, "Is not the time for talks of succession and my rule. Now is the time to bring forth traitors and turncloak's who broke their oath to my father, King Viserys, and to me, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

The sound of men around you shifted as they bowed their head towards you, your face in pure shock as you looked at them.

“Now,” The Queen boomed over the rising whispers in the chambers, “Bring forth the accused.”

You stepped on unsteady feet, unsure and uncertain as you came to stand beneath the throne on the opposite side of your brother and father, both who beamed at you with pride. The Conquerors Crown still in your hands, the cool Valyrian steel pressing into your palm.

But as the doors to the chambers were opened once more by guards, you had snuck a glance at your father, who was already watching you, and gave you a promissory nod. And so with certain hands, you lifted the crown once more, and settled it against your scalp.

Wild auburn hair appeared first, and then a gown of deep green as Alicent Hightower was dragged before the Iron Throne by Gold Cloaks. Each one stood behind her as her hands were locked in chains at her front, eyes flickering from you, to Rhaenyra, and then back to you.

And then you began.

“Lady Alicent Hightower. Dowager Queen of King Viserys. You stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You are bought here to be charged with crimes against the Crown. You are accused of treason.” Your voice carried through the chambers, the chains on Alicent’s wrists knocking against each other as she picked at her hands, fingers raw and bloody.

“You are charged with conspiring against the Crown to usurp the throne with Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Otto Hightower. You are charged with the conspiracy to cause harm to a Princess of the realm, and her wrongful imprisonment.”

“Rhaenyra, see reason. I beg you. Your father-“ Alicent began to plead.

“-My father,” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed, “Is dead. And you kept that hidden from the people for days, and rushed to crown Aegon as King in the Sept before the realm. You usurped the throne from its rightful heir and King Viserys’ successor, whom your House swore fealty to. Do you deny your charges?”

“I beg mercy! I only did as I believed was right. Viserys told me before he passed that he wished Aegon to sit the thr-”

“-You will have chance to make your own petition, Lady Alicent. Do Queen Rhaenyra the curtesy of letting the charges to be heard.” You held your head high, mimicking the same words she had said to your mother, a long time ago, “If the Lady Alicent Hightower speaks out of turn once more, cut out her tongue.” You watched as her face ashened, and her brows pulled together in desperation.

“You supplanted the Iron Throne’s rightful heir.” Rhaenyra growled, “You sent Aemond to slay my son, Prince Lucerys, the heir to Driftmark, who was an envoy in Storms End. And you have kept the Princess, my heir to the Iron Throne prisoner in this Keep under the hands of your rabid sons.”

“Please, Rhaenyra.” Alicent begged, “Am I to pay for the crimes of the wants of a father on his daughter? For the crimes of my sons? We were close, you and I. Friends!”

Daemon snickered beside the throne as he watched the Hightower woman beg.

Rhaenyra straightened, “What good is a friend who plots and grooms her sons into usurping the throne from its rightful heir? Their half-sister? From her supposed friend? These crimes are treason. And there are witnesses. A Maester who was slain here. Maids who had watched. Gold Cloaks, and servants, and Lords alike witnessed your crimes, Lady Alicent. Do you deny these charges?”

A tear fell from Alicent’s eyes as she sucked in a shuttering breath.

She stayed silent.

Rhaenyra looked at the woman from down her nose before speaking once more, delivering her conviction.

“For your crimes against the Crown, against my blood, and against the people of the realm, you are found guilty. I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death by dragon fire.”

Alicent’s face morphed into horror, “No! Rhaenyra, please! I beg mercy! We are but women who had our hands forced by the men around us!” She cried into the chambers as she was dragged out by the Gold Cloaks, “What choice did I have?! Imprison me, Rhaenyra, I beg this of you!”

Alicent Hightower’s voice faded down the halls and walls she was dragged down, pleading for mercy, begging to the Seven for help. But the Seven did not hear to her prayers, for the Stranger was already on their way to take her.

Maester Orwyle was next, and the man stood silently as his charges were given to him. He did not speak, nor did he rebuke them, or plead for mercy. Instead, his dark brown eyes stared into your mothers with nothing more than disgust and pure hatred, until he was pulled away, the same way he came, back to the holding cells of the Dungeons you had once spent your days in, with his verdict.

Guilty.

It was this way until the whole of the Green Council and turncloaks was laid before your mother, each one individually brought before the Queen, had their accusations of treason laid. Some were given the option to bend the knee to Rhaenyra and serve her in exchange for their lives, others were not.

None, bar Lord Jasper Wylde, bent the knee.

And all, bar the Master of Laws, was sentenced to death.

The chamber of the Iron Throne was ripe with energy. Nervous, excited energy from Rhaenyra’s supporters as they watched on as they delivered the sentences to those who had betrayed or turned cloak against her.

And then, the court was dismissed, and the Lords and her supporters were led outside of the Keep, to the mouth of Blackwater Rush, where a flat grassy knoll lay before the cliffs, and a worn path for traders was trodden upon.

It was there where Lady Alicent Hightower was led, beside her Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, and the turncloaks, Lord Bourney, Butterwell, Mootey and Rosby stood in a line.

The oceans breeze ruffled the cloaks and hair of all those in attendance, and Rhaenyra was the last one present. The final person to arrive.

Above you, the large and excitable screech of a dragon who would finally be reunited with its rider.

Alicent looked up the skies in fear, her hands clutched tightly together in prayer as she shut her eyes, mumbling to the Seven, begging for mercy, and guidance, and promises of good servitude if they grant her her life.

But dragons did not answer to the Gods.

Nor were they inclined to show mercy.

And so you watched, in delight and anticipation, as the large bronze dragon landed against the grass beside you, purring into the air with his large scarred snout, mouth full of jagged teeth opening, and eyes dancing over you.

All watched as you reached out to touch him, the dragon rumbling deep in his chest as he leant into your hand. The bond sent sparks through your fingers and arms as you leant a forehead against him, breathing in his dragon smell, sulfur and smoke, and the distinct almost reptilian stench that they all carried.

But your true reunion would have to wait, for the Queen and realm were waiting on you.

It was only right that you delivered the blow of justice.

As heir.

As now stand in Hand before Corlys.

In fact, your mother and father had been most insistent upon it, if only you wanted to.

And the Gods knew that you did.

The crowd of people shuffled backwards as Vermithor’s long tail beat against the ground forcefully, vibrating the earth beneath.

Alicent Hightower jumped in her spot, knuckles white as she stared at you in fear.

“You are guilty and have been charged of treason-”

“-I am innocent. I beg mercy, please. Rhaenyra, see reason!” Alicent cried out into the soft ocean breeze, her words lost to the crashing swell. Rhaenyra blinked impassively at the woman.

“Reason?” You parroted, “Mercy?”

“Please, it was the ambitions of a father onto his child. I had no play-“

“No play? None?” You sneered.

There was that rage again.

“I beg mercy. I will work in-“

“-Where was your mercy for the Queen when you usurped her throne?” You stiffened, Vermithor behind you growling, sensing your anger through the bond.

“Where was your mercy for her sons? For Lucerys?”

“I was not at-“

The Bronze Fury shifted behind you, head coming to loom forward in the space beside, teeth bared as he growled at the woman who dropped to her knees in fear, legs giving out beneath her.

"Where was your mercy when you locked me in a cell? Where was your mercy when you let him rape me? Defile me.” You took a step forward towards her, “Hurt me.”

Another step, and ice spread through your chest, “Where was your mercy when the King broke into my chambers?” You spoke dully this time, but inside you was the fire that you had hidden. Trampled by your own hands and feet in order to keep on, to keep moving.

To survive.

Vermithor lifted his head into the sky and cried out shrilly, all around him flinching from the sudden movement. His large jaws opened, and a plume of fire shot into the air, the heat falling down around you hotly.

You looked down at the woman who started it all.

Her children.

The usurp of your mother.

The war.

Lucerys.

Syndor.

Visenya.

All of it.

“You are found guilty of treason, for the usurpation of the Iron Throne from its rightful heir. You are guilty of crimes to the Princess; Daughter and heir of the Queen. You are guilty of hiding the death of King Viserys from the people and Lords to conspire with turncloaks and oathbreakers. And you have been sentenced to death.”

You stared into the eyes of the woman before you, tears cascading down her cheeks as she looked up at you and pleaded, begged for her life, begged for mercy.

Prayed.

Her hair was messed, her robes were crinkled and green, and as you looked at the woman you felt a surge of rage.

“Dracarys.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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funky-astrologer · 2 months

Text

🌹 - Aphrodite - 🌹

Greek Goddess of Beauty, Love, Romance, Pleasure & Sex🌹

Happy Women’s History Month & Venus day ❤️‍🔥

Venus keywords:

Love, Romance, Beauty, Self-Love, Relationships, Healing, Femininity, Intuition, Material Possessions

Venus holds a special place in my heart--especially for self-love, I even have a tattoo of the birth of Venus. Along with that, I have honored Aphrodite as a goddess for self-love and healing self-worth for some time now.

She is splendid and has a wonderful and loving energy in my experience. If you enjoy the concept of working alongside goddesses, gods, spirits, etc, here is a little snippet from me about Lady Aphrodite🌹

🌹 - Associations & Symbols - 🌹

Roses

Lilies (her virginity was renewed on an annual basis)

Love, Sex & Romance 🥰

The Ocean & Seashells

Fridays (day of Venus)

The number 5 - sacred number of Venus

Apples

Doves, Swans

✨ - Epithets - ✨

Euploia - “of fair voyage”

Pontia - “of the sea”

Philommeidês - “laughter loving”

^ in my personal experience, each time I’ve connected with her, I laugh a lot more, she loves it☺️

Aphrogeneia - “foam born”

Nikêphoros - “bringer of victory”

Morphô - “of shapely form”

Symmakhia “ Ally in love”

Apostrophia “Averter of (unlawful desires)”

Ourania - “Heavenly (Divine)”

🤍 - Offerings - 🤍

Rose or Lily Flowers

Self-care or self-love

Rose Quartz

Pearls

Sea Glass

Mirrors

Chocolate

Fruits such as Apple, Coconut, Strawberry & Peaches

Honey 🍯

Jewelry

Praise

Poetry

Acts of Love 💋

Sex, Self-Pleasure

Sea shells

Ocean Water

Sugar

Marjoram

Incorporate these into your life and energy and you just might find her reaching out to you! If not, I’m sure she’d love for you to reach out to her☺️

Below is a link to the perfume oil I created to honor Lady Aphrodite, if you worship her or wish to work alongside her or her energies, this oil is for you💋

🌹Inspired by the Goddess Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love, Romance, Sex, Pleasure & Beauty. Handcrafted & blessed by Lady Aphrodite & made with intentions for love, attraction, bringing in sweetness, sensuality, joy, pleasure and beauty. This perfume oil will assist you in attracting your heart’s desires as well as exude blissful and loving energy.

I have some new exclusive patreon posts up! Including this one, of course I may be adding more additional content about the work I do with Lady Aphrodite as she is so enjoyable to work with🥰

Would you like to know more about the asteroid Aphrodite in your chart? Book a reading with me babe, igu, email me or sign up on my Patreon for 50% off your reading.

Links in Bio ❣️

Patreon memberships start at $5

XOXO

-S.

#aphrodite #greek goddess #goddess energy #perfume oil #venus day #march 1st #women’s history month #deity work #deity worship #aphrodite deity #asteroid aphrodite

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dietmountaindewbae · 5 months

Text

xviii. oh my love, my darlin'

alex turner x reader

requested by @nela-cutie

word count: 6476

summary: Alex (early AM!) is a close friend of your father's, every Friday afternoon he swang by, you never thought things would change so rapidly with just a few drinks and one song. (60`s inspired fic)

warnings: age g*p, ch*cking, spitt*ng

song recommendation: unchained melody cover by LDR

───── ୨୧ ─────

Every afternoon around 4 pm, your father came home from his laborious work, tired and grumpy, you tried to avoid him as much as possible, giving him a mandatory hug and kiss on the cheek, telling him step by step in order your day at school dully, and with a gentle smile. The only day of the week you weren't faking your smile was on Friday.

Friday was your favorite day of the week, the school was out, and you didn't have to deal with horrid teachers, and their long classes sitting on that torturing wooden chair, you glanced at the clock as you kicked your feet on the dining room table, every Friday afternoon, around 6, that's when Al came around. You heard the bell ring at that time, and not a minute less or more, you came running to the door, giddy like a pony, fixing the bow on your hair and your dress before you opened.

"Hello there, doll face!" His accent slurred through the cigarette, "How are yeh? How was yer day?!" He seemed so happy when he saw you, or that's what you told yourself every time he came by for dinner.

"I'm just fine Al" You kissed his cheek as a polite way to say hello and to smell his musky cologne, and touch his hair that was covered in Vaseline, you played with the little curls that stuck out of it. He looked effortlessly handsome wearing a simple white shirt and jeans under a big black coat, his cowboy belt, and black leather boots with discreet heels.

"You're a sweet thing, aren't you, huh?" He cupped your cheeks together and smiled at your squished face, "I don't even have to ask about school, you're a brilliant little girl, I'm sure of that!" You like that he never had to ask unnecessary questions, he was confident about your abilities and the type of girl that you were, "New dress isn't it?" He gently puts your hand on your waist, examining every single part of your checkered dress, you were thrilled that he noticed it, indeed it was a new dress that you bought just for him, you weren't used to wearing short baby doll dresses but it was what was in, the new style for all girls, you pair it with knee high socks, and your usual jewelry, a thin pearl necklace that you stole from your mother, a red lipstick stolen from your mother too, mascara, there was no need for blush around Alex, he always made it appear with no effort, "Looks pretty on you" He slowly lets go off your waist.

"Thank you Al" He insisted that you just call him Al, not sir, mister, or uncle, just Al, sometimes you called him Turner, but never anything else, he told your father it sounds a bit odd for you to call him that.

"Where's that dickhead!" Your father says from the stairs, tearing apart your five tiny seconds of heaven with Al, another thing that saddened you was that you never got to spend so much time with him, or not as much as you'd liked.

"How many bloody times do I need to tell you to not swear like that?" Your mother yells from upstairs, pinning her pearls to her ears. "Don't go effing and blinding in front of your daughter otherwise she's bound to have your cursed mouth!"

"I'll be dammed!" He spat, hugging Alex and putting his back, "Come sit!" That was your queue for you to serve everyone's food, as your mother poured the drinks, tonight, and like every other, the grown-ups had sour margaritas to swallow down the bitterness of their lives.

"And how many times do I need to tell you to put on some damn shoes!" Your mother yells at you, you quickly fetch your black shoes and go to the kitchen alongside your mother to set the table.

You put the steak in the middle, the salad on the left right in front of your mother since she insists that you and her keep their figure, mashed potatoes on the other edge where your father was, bread and butter, and some gravy, you poured yourself a tall glass of pink lemonade.

"Cheers," Everyone says with their drinks up high, you smile and begin to eat, Al sitting at the center of the table and you next to him.

"I think Bill's bound to get fired from the company..." The conversation fades to the back, turning itself into brown noise, you watch Al smile and eat his food with joy, you like the shape of his face, strong features, furrowed eyebrows, dark brown eyes, big broad nose, and thin harsh lips, he was a dream.

"....Honey!" Your mother calls, "Remember the pie!" You excused yourself from the table bringing out of the kitchen a warm and sweet pie made with fresh cherries and whipping cream on the side.

"She's getting better and better at making the family recipe, she's got it with the baking, hopefully, she learns how to cook a good meal next" Your mother raised her eyebrows, and you sealed your lips, Alex kicked your feet to grab your attention, his proud smirk on his lips make you bite down on your lower lip as you serve him a slice.

"That's the only thing that I'm happy she's got from her mother!" Your father breaks into hysterical laughter while yours fades, "That and the face, clearly"

"At least we can agree on something!" Your mother says, everyone returns to the conversation as you quietly eat your slice of pie, you feel Al kicking your leg beneath the table, again your eyes meet his, and he smiles as he eats your pie, you look down at your feet touching, you kick of your shoe, your white socks gently tap on his leg, and your whisper a 'thank you' the tips of your fingers caressing his leg, you smiled as Al shifts on his seat, he pulls away his leg, and looks away, you feel bad and return to stare at your plate, did you get too friendly with him?

Later on, at night, some more of your father's friends from the office join in, smoking cigarettes in the backyard, your mother had left to go out into the city with the wives while the husbands stayed, Al being the only one to admit to himself he was happy being divorced, all of the other women looked fancy and gorgeous, with their wedding rings off, free, discharged, while you had to bare with their woozy smiles as they ask you to serve them food and drinks. You wished some day you looked like them, with a bigger pair of everything, for your edge you still looked and dressed pretty junior.

"Why'd don't you give her some to drink, let her relax she's been cooking the whole day," Al suggests out of the blue, taking your father by surprise, you sat next to him completely silent.

"Well, if her mother isn't here, I guess she doesn't have to know either, but just one, and you go to bed, right dear?" You nod your head at your father, and you discreetly smile at Alex as you go fetch a cup to the kitchen, when you came back your dad puts on the table a bottle of rum, a can of beer, and vodka, "Choose whatever you'd like"

Nothing caught your attention, other than the clear vodka, it looked just like water, you saw an ad for it on the screen, so you grabbed the bottle, and all of the men clapped and laughed at you, you poured some into your cup, all of them clapped and kept laughing, but you didn't get what was so funny. Al glanced at you and picked you up by your elbow.

"I'll mix her up summat real quickly, we'll be back" You followed Al into the kitchen as he grabbed your jar of pink lemonade and poured it into the blender, with your vodka and a bit of juice, once your drink was done, he spooned a cherry into your glass and a little umbrella on top, "Enjoy!" He said with a bright smile, you avoid his gaze and sip on the drink.

"It tastes good" The sweet drink has that taste of alcohol, gentle but burning your throat slowly, until it falls on your stomach and sits there, spreading through your body.

"What's the matter?" He said, sounding a bit concerned.

"Nothin'" You answered, sipping on your drink, "I just feel uncomfortable around all of 'em, I don't know why they all laughed at me like that... like I'm some sort of joke," He held your hand and sat next to you, putting your hand on your cheek.

"I'll watch ya, don't you worry, and if you start feelin' dizzy you go on and tell me, right?" You hummed as a yes, you thought about it before but you thought he wouldn't mind if you grabbed his arm as you walked back, he gave you a caring smile and walked out with you, putting his chair closer to yours.

More liquor washed away everybody's sorrows, including yours, and turned them into bursts of laughter and songs, every time your cup emptied, Al went to the kitchen and served you vodka mixed with soda or juice, asking if you liked the taste each time, you guessed he wanted you to figure out what do you like drinking your vodka with.

"Pull out that guitar big boy, sing us a song" You loved it whenever Al played his guitar and sang one or two songs, he had a gifted voice you always said he should've taken advantage of that. He giggled and everyone began to give him some encouraging pads on the back, nudging his shoulder until finally, he called it. He stood up and waved his arms up, giving up and letting the rest celebrate, he went to his car fetching his guitar from his back trunk.

"Alreyt!" He went back to his seat next to you, taking out a beautiful shiny acoustic Gibson guitar from a dark brown leather suitcase, and from the pocket of his coat he pulled out his cigarettes and a box of matches, "Hold this for me quickly sweetheart" He gave you his cigarettes, red Marlboro's, and he flicks on his match, you hand him a cigarette and he puts it in between his teeth, you make a little house with your hands to preserve the fire from his match, the cigarette lights on fire, smoke coming out of his nose like a bull, and he hands you his cigarettes for you to take care of, he made you go mad over the most simple things like tunning his guitar and the smell of his cigarettes, it wasn't fair at all.

"Frank!" A buddy of your father's says, all of them agree, and at that moment, a clever idea pops into Alex's head.

"I have a better idea" He rubs his hands together, putting his cigarette in between his strings,

"Oh... my love, my darlin'"

"Sing it with me," He turns his head to you, "C'mon I know you fancy this one" He winks his eye at you, he gives you a countdown to jump in, looking at you the same way he always did, confident about you, and your abilities even if you constantly doubted about them.

"I've hungered for your touch... a long, lonely time"

You sing a step higher, and he smiles at you, strumming down the next chord and singing with you, "A long, lonely time"

Alex knew from the look in your eyes, that you felt the same way as he did, it was hard to admit to himself that, since that day he met you, you were running around the house in your school uniform with your white pair of knee socks, looking for your book, he had fallen in love like a fool, it was so simple he couldn't believe how easy it was to love you, he loved how comfortable you felt without shoes on the grass, even when you wore all of those knots in your hair to make it curly, whenever you put on lipstick for dinner just for him even if it wipes away easily, he loved how you rolled around in the grass as your fingertips fell the petals of the tiny flowers that grow in your backyard, you had bloomed into an irresistibly beautiful, kind and charismatic girl, it was so tough on him, to have you in front of him, with that sparkle in your eyes and your blushed cheeks, and not being able to do anything to you.

He was at a loss for words, that's why he sings to you, and simultaneously you end the song singing.

"Are you still mine? I need your love I need your love, Godspeed your love to me..."

In the meantime, you had three or more lemonades, you stopped counting after Al had set his eyes on you as he sang, rocked by his voice, you couldn't help yourself, you were falling deeply for him each time he came by your house, and each moment you didn't see him, you just imagined him and you together, going on dates to see films, buying books for each other, maybe even going to the beach someday, holding hands on the street, writing you songs, kissing... you sigh, those ideas that floated in your mind kept holding you back from wanting anyone else or even considering liking anyone else, the idea of him, no one else could match his size or even fill one of his shoes, you felt pathetic, so you drank down another cup.

The hours went by, and one by one, everyone started to head out, they all went to hug you goodbye, Alex watching you from a distance, the three of you were left in the backyard, but it didn't take long until your father began to get grumpy and angry, rambling about money and the company, that's what he only talked about these days.

"I'll handle this one," Al said, "Go to bed you old dog" Al helped your father up, holding each other's shoulders and going upstairs, you felt your tummy weird, you felt those tingles starting to get bigger as Al had left your side, you didn't understand why did you have that strong and lingering feeling, you needed him now, needed to be by his side, needed to hear his voice, and have his gaze fixated on yours. You became anxious, impatient for him to come back.

You heard the heel of his shoe clacking towards you, you turned your face to look at him, sitting upright and putting your hair away, "You're back" You said with a smile.

"I never left," He said, lighting up a cigarette with a match, the fire burns his cigarette and he inhales the smoke that came out, and you did too, relaxing into the air, "How you feelin' love?" He asked you, with a smudge smile he raised your face, "I see a little bit of red in your cheeks and...lips"

You immediately put your fingers on your bottom lip, "Oh... must be my lipstick then" You added, "I'm feelin' fine Al" You said sounding confident.

"Mmm... or didn't you lie to me about never drinking before? You look as if you haven't"

"I would never lie to you Al" You quickly replayed, too quickly since he smiled widely, looking satisfied in some way, his eyes glimmering when he looked at you, he bit his bottom lip, looking at you up and down slowly, he scratched his chin.

"I better get goin' it's late," He said but before you could stand up, you put your hand on top of his.

"Maybe I can pour you another margarita before you go, we could talk... we never really do" He furrowed his eyebrows but smiled.

"Can't say no to you sweetheart" You stood up, but as you did you felt dizzy, you tried to compose yourself quickly enough before he realized, you went into the kitchen and mixed his drink, and at the same speed, you came back.

"Can you pour me some pop for my drink?" You asked him, giving him back his cup, he looked at you strangely but poured another one for you, and you took another sip as Al drank his.

"Bloody good margaritas you make sweetheart, so... what'd ya wanna talk about?" He put his drink on the floor, running his hands through his hair.

"Umm..." You giggled nervously, but it lasted too long, you tried to calm yourself down but couldn't, "Sorry..." You covered your mouth with your hand.

He giggled along with you, "You feelin' it?" You nodded your head, "That 'appens when you sit down and drink, I'm not sure how, but when you stand up that's when you begin to feel it, you outta be careful when you go out with your mates" You smiled to your feet and said yes with your head.

"The girls like goin' out for shakes and watch the lots chasing a ball like idiots," You rolled your eyes, and your cheeks blushed.

"Got a boyfriend?" You said no with your head, he looked at you with a fainted smile, relieved to know so, "Why not? You're beautiful"

"I never know what to say to 'em" You answered with honesty, "They want this mysterious woman, a femme fatale, chic and cool, I'm none of those things, they just say I'm a funny girl, no one takes me seriously, I barely even talk now" He raised your chin, grabbing your hand, looking you deep in the eye with his tender look.

"You don't need to be that, you're beautiful, lovely lovely girl... does wankers don't know what they're missin' out on... round eyes, pink lips, blushed cheeks, pretty smile..." Your breathing stopped as he got closer, he licked his bottom lip, his eyes looking at your face with sweetness and love.

"You're describing every girl in this town" You answered, he moved his head saying no.

"No other girl could ever be just as precious as you darlin'" You chuckled breaking apart the short space between you, putting your head on his shoulder, "You need to go to bed, it's gettin' late for you" His hand lands on your knee, every single little touch that he gives you lasts a lifetime in your head.

"But tomorrow I got the whole day free... I don't need to wake up early"

"I could take you out for some shakes... you know, just you and me perhaps... keep going with our conversation" Your face shoots up, was he asking you out?

"Sounds nice" You slurred, he grabbed your hand, you stayed silent until out of the blue, you asked, "How did you know that unchained melody was my favorite song?" You feel Alex get tense, and shift in his seat.

"Maybe I've heard you sing it a few times before..." He admits, "You 'ave a pretty voice sweetheart," He caresses your hand with his thumb.

"So you observe me... that's creepy" You joked, "What else do you know?"

"Not much... I know you love to read about philosophy, and your favorite book is The Bell Jar 'cause you always ramble 'bout Buddy and how stupid he sounds at the end of the book when he asked if there was something in him that made women go insane, the shock therapy...." You couldn't stop laughing now, "You like to read Albert Camus even though you hated to read about him in school, you love Bob Dylan and Cash, you can't live without vanilla floats or red nails, and you despise wearing shoes at your house," You nod your head, everything he said was right, it intrigues you, "'Cause you say that-"

"Shoes are the ones that keep you away from having your feet on the earth"

"How do you know all of that?" He swallows down a big lump in his throat, his lips dry and his mind in a trance, "I mean, not even my father knows that... and he buys all of my books" He was debating himself in his head as he stares at your bambi eyes, how could he do this to you? how could he ruin something so simple with just a few words? He knows it's wrong and cruel to admit his love for you even if the looks between you already confirmed the fact that you like him too, he had his reasons as to why he never said anything to you, or why he loved to watch you from a distance, because you're a young girl, with way more ahead of you, and he was ten steps ahead of you. He drew back what he truly wanted to say.

"I think you're very interesting, and I also think..." Your eyes light up at that pause, "That you should go upstairs, bunny" You groan and kick your feet.

"I don't wanna..." Helping you to stand up, you took advantage of the moment to hug him close and tightly, "I wanna stay here, don't you wanna stay here with me?" His warm hand caresses your soft hair, rocking your body as he hums a sweet song, and your lips fold into a pout.

"Of course I wanna stay here, but I'm old and very sleepy, don't do this to me..."

You look up as you feel his gaze on you, and you stand on the top of your toes to give him a lingering kiss on his cheek, when your lips tear away from his warm skin he looks at you with more than just care, he had the kind of look you only saw on movies, or read in books, that look that makes you weak at the knees, that magnetic look that brought your lips together into a deep kiss, he opened your mouth feeling his lips land on top of yours, your mouth tasting like sweet cherries and lemonade, you were dizzy on the smell of his cologne, and his unique scent, his arms drop to your waist, pulling your body closer to his as you pull his face down, praying that he doesn't pull away too soon, but he didn't, he kept kissing you with passion that turns into lust and a deep desire for more, slowly his hand lands on your lower back.

He was gobsmacked at the way you kissed his mouth, so pure, "Don't stop kissin' me, I've been waiting for this too long" He holds your face with one hand pulling your lips to his, his thumb caressing your cheek, and dropping to your neck, you unconsciously moan into his mouth as you feel a big ache between your legs, butterflies on your stomach.

"Me too," You confess, still you can't look into his eyes but he does the job of putting your gaze on his, "I think I wanna go upstairs now" You look at him through your lashes, and he sighs.

"If you say the word" You bit your lower lip, and all of the scenarios ran wild in your head, but you were in awe that this was happening, he kissed you and took you upstairs to your room holding you in his big arms, drunk and seeing stars, thinking about only him. He puts you down once inside your room, locking the door, kissing you with the lights off beneath the pale moonlight that shines on his face.

"I'm all yours if you want me Alex" He sighs, his heart beats for you, he breaths for you, he yearns for you.

"Don't tell anyone about us love, can you keep that promise?" He whispered.

"I can, and I swear I will" You kissed him lovingly, walking back to your soft bed, "If I have you, I don't think I need anyone else" He groaned as he bit on your lower lip, he was so turned on by your words, you depend on him, you need him as much as he needs you, you root for him.

"That's a good girl," He hovers you over in your bed, his hand in the middle of your chest, feeling your rapid heartbeat, and it slides down to your tummy as if he could feel all of the butterflies in your stomach, he wanted to know if you felt the same way as him, suddenly his hand began to slide down to your lower abdomen carefully, and you felt the butterflies come alive once more, you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him to stay where he was, your tongue slipping inside his mouth, dancing with his in beautiful pace, your fingers pulling on his hairs, twisting bits of it in between them, his hand inside your inner tight, digging his nails into your skin as he kisses you hard and needy, his hips slowly began to grind against your thigh, creating yummy warm friction and that's when you felt how hard his cock was, rock hard, and probably hurting.

"I-..." You sighed as he kissed your neck, "I want to... uhm..." He kept placing sloppy wet kisses all over your neck, and collarbone, you were losing yourself in the pleasure.

"Come on, you can do it, babe..." A low chuckle came from the bottom of his throat, you didn't know how to say it politely, so instead your hand went down to feel his abs, he pulled his face up as he felt what you were doing, your doe eyes conquering his heart and pushing his impulses to the limits, then your hand dropped to his pulsing cock that bulged thru his jeans, he moaned as your little hand began to stroke him, he looked deep into your doe eyes, there was innocence and purity, something that he wouldn't let anyone else take it away for granted, he felt glad you had picked him because he knew exactly the way to treat you.

You had grown a bigger desire for more, he keeps moaning into the light touch of your hand, only making him get more tense, and hard, so fucking hard that he couldn't keep it in his pants for longer, "Babe, you're makin' thing worse..."

"Why?" You said with preoccupation, stopping the movements of your hand.

"'Cause you're making me want to fuck you even more in that pretty little dress of yours..." Your cheeks blush harder, maybe both of you had a loose tongue now, and still, you never knew what to say to him, "If you let me, I swear nothin' in this world will hurt you" Only he was the one that could hurt you, but you were allowing him to do so if the time comes, "I will be careful, and we can stop whenever you need it, that's if you want to-"

"Of course, I do" You quickly answered, he smiled taken by surprise, and he pushes one eyebrow up with a cocky smirk.

"Why? You need me?" His fingers trail down to your panties, a poodle of wetness soaking through them.

You whined and said, "Like I never needed anyone else" You make him smile from corner to corner, and he kisses you with lust and desire, his veiny and strong hands pull your dress up to your waist, his two fingers feeling the dampness of your panties, while you quickly untucked his shirt to feel his skin, his fingers gently unbuttoned your dress to grop your tits, moaning into his mouth as he kneads them like dough, you liked how hard was he gripping them, how hard he needs you, and how badly he wants to be inside you. He tore away the warmth of his big body to undo his belt and throw it away somewhere in your room, you sat up and unbuttoned his pants, looking up at him as you take his pulsing hard cock out of his boxers, you were stupified by the size and the feeling of his dick.

"See what you do to me now sweetheart? Whenever you're around with your tiny babydoll dresses, running around in your ballerina shoes, I think about how full your mouth would look with my dick inside it when you suck on your lollies, or how tight is your cunt whenever you sit cross-legged in front of me like a little lady, I just love whenever you bend over and I can see your panties... I wonder if you do it on purpose, to provoke me" He was sick as a dog for looking at you like that, admiring you just like that, but you were just as sick because you liked it.

"You'll find out tonight" You grabbed his cock confidently even if your hand was shaking slightly, you tried to let things flow and do as your gut tells you, you began to stroke him just as you were doing, and Alex looked at you with a silly smile, his quiff all messy, "What?"

"I love how hard you're trying to convince me that you know what you're doin', it's cute" He pinched your chin as a sign of love, "Open your mouth," He admired you like that for a second, with your pink tongue sticking out, and your pouty lips, "Fuck... I've always wanted to do this" Before you could ask him he spits inside your warm mouth, you didn't feel disgusted, you liked it, he took his cock and rammed his tip all over your lips smudging your lipstick, your cheeks flushed hard and he sticks his cock inside your mouth without warning, letting out a concealing moan, a drown out gasp as he grabs a fist full of your hair and moves your head in a jerking motion, fucking your mouth gently, leaving you breathless, you swallowed hard, "Suck like you suck your lollies, babydoll, do as I say..." He orders, and you do, twisting your tongue around him and hollowing your cheeks, sucking hard on his dick running your fingers thru his sexy v-line, he groans as shivers cover his whole body, and he swallows down the big desire to have you gagging and chocking on his dick into you ran out of breath, the sounds of your mouth slurping and tasting his dick inside your mouth were enough for his mind to run wild ideas, "Fuck... fuck, keep sucking hard babe... oh your mouth feels so nice... if your mouth is this little I can imagine how tight your cunt must be... nice and warm" You choked as Alex pulled your head harder and harder, your tears staining your cheeks digging your nails into his strong arms, and when he noticed he immediately pulled away, holding your head in his hands.

You were panting for air, your hand on your chest feeling your heart about to explode, "Was I any good?" That's your only concern in this moment, he looks at you with tenderness.

"You got me so close, I couldn't help meself... you just make me lose it completely, I'm sorry... maybe we shouldn't-" You cut him up with a kiss, the idea of not doing it with Alex now was a big no, you had the chance now, and you needed him so badly. He gently lays you down in your bed, you eagerly stripped down your panties to your feet kicking them off, "You cheeky girl, come to me, I'll make yeh a real woman now" You smiled, "And I'll be a good man for my girl, I'll make yeh feel some real love" He angled his cock at your pussy, you were running out of air just before he even does something to you.

"Is it... going to hurt a lot?" You look at him wide-eyed, his arm next to your head as you feel his tip right on the entrance of your most sensitive spot, he stares at you back caressing your face.

"If it hurts a lot you stop me, alright? I'll be careful... I'm with you, you call the shots babe" You giggle giving him one last sweet kiss on his lips, "I just wanna be yours" He kissed you deeply, losing yourself through the kiss, and then you felt a stinging pain in between your legs, feeling how something inside you was torn apart, and a stinging stretch, you whined twisting in your bedsheets, Alex quickly covered your mouth to prevent you from being heard, "It's ok... ok, you'll be ok I'm sorry, didn't want to hurt you..." You could finally breathe as he pulled himself outside you, Alex helped you to calm yourself down, helping you to breathe.

Once you thought you could try again, you nod your head, "I'm good..." You assured him.

"Listen to me" You carefully paid attention to his words, "I want you to close your eyes now" He gently slid his fingers through your eyes, "Hear my voice, and breathe," He held your hand, fingers intertwining, he aimed his head at your entrance, you began to feel nervous again, "Hear my breathing" He sounds calm and steady, you composed yourself breathing in the same way as him, then slowly he pushed himself in, halfway you felt the stinging come back, Alex moaned deep and breathy, you liked hearing those sounds come out of his mouth, they made your insides wetter, making it easier for you to be less uncomfortable, "Do you feel the pain fading away?" You nod, and whisper a simple 'yes', "Do you feel how close I am to you? I love feeling close to you my love, you must know how much I've always wanted you"

"I feel it" You breathed out, soon the pain turned into a growling pleasure, you were starved for more, your legs wide opened for him as he slowly and gently thrusts inside you, your mouth opens to moan gently, he heard you moaning so quietly it made him start to lose it again but he composed himself, kept going slow but building up a good pace for you, his fingers descend to your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles, adding more pleasure, making your legs lock on his hips, and your mouth to get louder, "That's good, babe, atta fuckin' girl... oh fuckin' hell you feel so fuckin' tight, I love it so much..." You moan louder as you feel him pushing himself entirely inside you, his balls pressed against your inner thighs, "Feel how deep I'm inside you now babe?" You hummed with pleasure, licking your lips, remembering the taste of his cock, but it was nothing like the feeling of it inside you now, nothing could compare to this feeling, this bond that was forming, more than just your hands holding, more than just his eyes on you, or his kisses, the intimacy and care he had for you, nothing had prepared you for this, but Alex was the best choice for you to tie this bond.

"I feel somethin'-" You said panting, Alex craving your sweet juices he pressed down hungrily on your clit, rubbing it in big circles with his thumb, "Oh! my... that's so good, ah! fuck..." He giggles at your curses, you grind your hips into him, and he speeds up his movements until he touched that place deep inside you, that place was like a cave that he lit up and set in flames, and the heat raises between your bodies, your eyes go white and you see stars as you come all over him, your legs trembling and he moans into your mouth, feeling your walls clenching around his cock, covering it entirely on your wet and sweet release, he moaned into your pillow as he pulled his cock out and jerked it, you threw his hand away and jerked it for him.

"Fuck!" He groans between gritted teeth, "Faster babe" He puts his hand on top of yours, closing it in a fist and jerking his slippery cock hard, "That's how me cock fucks my fist every single fuckin' night dreamin' about this, fuck... you fuckin'" He moaned loudly into your mouth as he came in hot spurts inside your belly button, "Oh fuck..." He panted, and he collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating cold, feeling each other's rapid heartbeat, smiling at each other like fools, your body began to relax and you closed your eyes enjoying that after-bliss and the weight of his body on yours, but it didn't last that long until you felt something warm seeping out of your legs, you reached in between them, your fingers came out with some blood.

"Shit!" You jumped out of bed before it could stain your sheets, wabbling into your bathroom, "You must be kiddin' me right now" You quickly sat down on your toilet cleaning out the little blood that was coming out of you, "Fuck fuck fuck" You muttered under your breath, there was no way something so nice could turn this embarrassing, you didn't understand.

"Tell me what happened," Alex rushed to the bathroom in his boxers.

"No, don't look!" You said, feeling tears in your eyes forming, "I think I got my period, I don't know how it came so soon, I'm so sorry, I-" You cleaned up your belly button, you were like a canvas covered in paint, everything was leaking out of you.

"Babe, sometimes girls bleed... it's ok, is it a lot though? 'Cause if it is, we need to go to a doctor now-" He was growing worried and guilty, he didn't think he was being too rough, you were enjoying it, and you could feel him getting scared.

"No, I'm fine, I just didn't remember this could happen, it's not a lot, I'm good I swear baby..." He smiled at the way you sweetly called him baby.

"Ok babe, do you need anything?" He asks kindly, you blushed.

"Mmm, maybe just calm down?" Both of you giggled, you stayed in the bathroom until the bleeding stopped changing into a fresh pair of panties and when you came outside you found him waiting for you on the edge of your bed like a puppy with his big brown eyes, and messy hairl "Hi" you waved.

"You feelin' alright now?" You hummed as a yes, "Go sit down, I'll change you up," He pulled out your dress, brushing your hair away from your face with his fingers, he took a good look at your breasts and your pretty fresh set of panties, completely mesmerized, "Or not?" You giggled and crawled to bed, choosing to stay like that with him, both naked and warm inside your bed sheets.

Until you burst your little happiness bubble "Do you have to go now?" He melts into the sound of your shy and pretty voice.

"Don't think 'bout it for a second, just close your eyes" He held you into his arms, humming a song to your ear, "I always think of you when I hear that song,"

"Give me, give me, give me

what I cry for

you know ya got the brand o' kisses

that I'd die for

You know you made me love you"

#alex turner smut #alex turner #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys one shots #alex turner fan fic #alex turner one shots #matt helders #60`s fashion #baby doll #early am

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