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kasagia · 3 months

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A powerful man

Pairing: dark!young Gamemaker!candidate for president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You thought he was different. That he would never cheat on you. But apparently Coriolanus who came back from District 12, became Gamemaker, and ran for president was not the same man you knew. And you'll soon find out how wrong you were about him. Requested by: @tastycakee Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Warning: 18+; My first time writing a smut scene, so please be gentle. I hope you will like it...🙈🙈; Coriolanus Snow, toxic behaviour; smut; Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Mr. Snow is busy…" you slam the door to Coriolanus' office behind you, closing it in the face of his secretary, who wouldn't let you in.

You cross your arms, glaring at your boyfriend in pure fury. Coriolanus stops writing something and looks up to enter just as you loudly shut the door behind you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly in surprise at the sight of you, then frowns at the pure anger in your eyes and clenched fists. He hopes your anger isn't caused by what he was trying to hide for you... otherwise, he will have some heads cut off.

"Y/N, darling, what are you doing here?" He asks with a charming smile as he gets up from his chair and walks over to you.

"Livia Cardew?" He stops at the mention of her name. He plays confused, frowning as he slowly responds to you, pretending to try to understand what you mean.

"I have no idea..."

"You could at least have some decency and admit that you slept with that whore!" His secretary must have heard your scream. He makes a mental note to talk to her when he's alone and to make sure he sends to the district and hangs any maid from the Cardew's house who spilled his secret.

"Look... it's not that I wanted it." He starts out gently; he tries to calm you down and explain his actions, but as soon as he takes a step towards you, you move away from him and growl like a rabid animal.

"Oh, of course not! After all, it's your dick that makes decisions for you, not your brain!" You shout at him angrily, pressing an accusatory finger into his chest.

He can no longer control himself after you cross the line. His calm, collected mask falls away to reveal his own rage and iritation. He grabs your arms tightly, making you gasp softly in pain as he shakes you lightly and pins you against the wall.

But he controls himself enough to not physically hurt you… at least not more. He just holds you there tightly, taking advantage of your moment of shock to explain his motives to you.

"Listen to me. She was a means to an end. I needed some information from her. I had to get closer, sleep with her, and sneak around her house, especially her father's office. End of the story. Considering it, it wasn't cheating. It was more like business than anything else. Besides, you're way better than her, petal. And I kept thinking about you all the time and how I'd rather have you wrapped around me than that thoughtless, naive bitch."

You feel sick when you hear it, when you imagine him in bed with her, and even more sick when you hear that he doesn't think that he did a bad thing at all. You feel like throwing up, just remembering how you let him touch you and how you treated him, worshipping him as if he were your whole world. You were so stupid and naive.

"You only prove that you are as disgusting, cruel, and manipulative as I thought. You can play with other people and their feelings, but not with mine. Not anymore. It's over. I've already moved out of your apartment, so you can continue running your campaign and exploiting other people all you want. I just fucking hope you won't win." You say it angrily, pushing him away from you.

You take advantage of the state of shock he is in, and you get out of there as fast as you can. The scent of Coriolanus' perfume clings to you, and you already know you need to take a very long bath when you get home to brush it away. As well as the felling of his hands on you. You only hope you won't have any bruises after his very tight and painful grip.

You practically run all the way to your car. You get in, not noticing that your ex-boyfriend is watching you carefully from his office window.

Coriolanus' eyes don't leave you. He watches carefully as you get into the car with his hands in his pockets.

He chastises himself for being so gentle with you. He promised himself after Lucy Gray that he would never fall in love again. And you appeared, breaking his iron resolve with one smile and a kiss. He should have made sure that he had enough control over you so that you would never think of leaving him before he started spoiling you.

All the dinners, sweet words and compliments, and thoughtful dates... he had rewarded you for nothing, and now his disobedient brat thought she could just walk away from him. Yes. He had given you too much freedom.

He should immediately clearly define the dynamics of your relationship, instead of leaving you under the illusion that you have something to say in any matter.

He remembered you from the Academy, even though you were a year younger than him. You were ambitious, like him. You always followed your own plan and ideas. Little rebel. It was cute then, but now he realises he needs to temper your personality. After all, his First Lady had to obey him at all times. You might have had a strong character and fought like a lioness, but absolutely not against him. He will destroy you or teach you obedience. You could be his wolf on a leash or his faithful dog. He didn't see it any other way. And he definitely won't let you go.

Coriolanus has already lost his one bird. He won't let another one do the same and escape from him.

And he even knew who would help him with it.

"I don't understand why they're starting a campaign when there's still a good half a year left until the elections." You grumble to your labmate as you two work on a new tranquillizer for peacekeepers to use on rebels.

"They have to check the identity and background of the candidates, and so on. My father said that the process itself was a good three months of work. Besides, considering that a president usually stays in his seat until he dies of old age, it's better that it lasts longer. Let them at least work hard to earn our votes if they are about to rule over Panem all their lives."

"That's six months of seeing that son of a bitch's face on TV, on posters around town, and on practically every fucking corner. Don't be surprised that I would prefer it to be shorter."

"I don't want to be on his side, but I think he can win. You know very well that he has charisma, money, and... well." She interrupts, blushing a little. You roll your eyes at her. You know that Coriolanus is... breathtakingly handsome. His cold beauty will steal the hearts of many. It will be useful for his media image to hide what a boor he was.

"Big cock?" You joke, no longer vulnerable to the charming side he has been showing the public.

"Y/N!" She hisses at you, laughing softly and looking around the lab. Meanwhile, the rats you were testing on became... too calm. At least Dr. Gaul's snakes will have something to eat.

"What? I'm stating facts. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept his way to the top." You say, as you are preparing new test subjects and reducing the dose of preparation a little.

"Shh! The viper is coming here." She whispers and goes back to work.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that, in fact, Dr. Gaul enters the laboratory. She might be getting older, but she still held up well. The only thing that changed was that she walked with the aid of a cane, which only added to her intimidating appearance. And the fact that she was no longer the main organiser of the Hunger Games. Coriolanus performed this role for her. Although the title was still hers.

"Dr. Gaul." You both greet her and step away from the examination table. She watches you and your work closely, mumbling something under her breath, and raises her cane, pointing at you.

"Y/L/N. My office."

"Yes, ma'am." You say and follow her. You feel your friend's eyes on your back as you follow the woman to her office.

You close the door behind you and take a seat in front of her desk as she nods towards you. Dr. Gaul takes some pills from his desk and swallows them. One of her snakes slithers between your legs and climbs up the desk to wrap around her owner's hand and then her cane. You have not only the piercing eyes of a woman but also the eyes of a snake.

She smiles, seeing that you didn't even flinch, still maintaining your calm demeanour.

"You're not a stupid girl." She says this while examining her pet. "And yet you find yourself in situations that only cast you in this light."

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, not expecting your conversation to become so... personal.

"I always said Mr. Snow would achieve something great. At the beginning, I thought he would be a Gamemaker like me. After all, he is not suitable for being a scientist like us. He has no patience; he needs new challenges, experiences, and adrenaline. But now... you know that you can have the president as... a person who is not entirely favourable to you, right?"

"I understand that there may be some difficulties…"

"Difficulties? Child, do you know him? You must be aware of what he is capable of. Or at least have some suspicions." She interrupts you, looking at you pointedly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. You were fed up with the topic of your ex. Apparently, you couldn't just break up with him without making a fuss.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Gaul? What is it all for?" You ask, slightly annoyed, and she just laughs mockingly, shaking her head in amusement.

"I like you, child. I hope you won't disappoint me. Therefore, think about what is good for your future. Pride is fatal. Money and influence bring opportunities. But you probably already know that. After all, no one who gets into my lab is a saint. Especially not you and Mr. Snow."

"I'm not a whore like him." You defend yourself, crossing your arms, making Dr. Gaul laugh again.

The snake moves from her cane to the desk and nests in your lap. Out of habit, you stroke his head, gaining interest again and a gleam of approval in Dr. Gaul's eyes. After all, this one was a particularly venomous specimen.

"Each of us is. We may not do what they do, but for money... people can do everything. Don't you remember how you sold your dear friend? How did you knock her out of the competition for a spot in my lab? How have you done everything—play every dirty card to make sure that you will become a victor? Just like Mr. Snow. I heard there was a... misunderstanding between you two, but life isn't a fairy tale, Miss Y/L/N. You can go bankrupt and ruin your reputation while waiting for your prince. If you want to achieve something, be known as a great mind like me, and be relevant in this city full of rats and snakes, then you will do the right thing for your future."

"Dr. Gaul, with all due respect, I am acutely aware of what is good for me. And it's definitely not Coriolanus Snow." You say, standing up and letting the snake slither onto her desk again.

"Pity. So prepare a contingency plan. After all, I won't live forever. It is not known who will take my place or whose name will hang above the entrance to this laboratory. It's not my choice. But if it was, I would choose you as my successor. Unfortunately, the future president will have the most impact on that. And then... it may turn out that there will be no place for you here."

"It's not certain who will win."

"Are you sure, child?" Her question can't help but make you doubt. Coriolanus wouldn't give up so easily. You know it. Just like if Coriolanus wins, you're finished. Your entire career… "Go. Think about it. I hope you will prove that you have some mind. It would be such a pity to lose such a talented scientist as you. Especially because of stupid love affairs."

You mutter goodbye to her and leave the office. You're long back at your table in the lab when the secret door opens and Coriolanus steps out.

"Is that what you wanted, Mr. Snow?" The woman asks, turning to face him. Coriolanus moves closer to the desk, but enough to be out of her snake's reach.

"You could have been more intimidating. After all, her entire career depends on her submission."

"If you want her to truly obey you, she must come to you herself. Like a pet. Like a snake. If she sees that your relationship will bring her further benefits, she will come back to you. She's not stupid enough to waste such an opportunity. At least I hope so. You should focus on your campaign."

"I'd like that too. But currently… something else is on my mind." He says, walking over to the tinted window that overlooks the lab. He puts his hands in his pockets and watches you carefully as you work.

"You're wasting your potential. Maybe your children will be wise enough to follow in my footsteps more. One is running for president, and the other is a military chemist. Such a waste."

"Don't worry. One of our children will definitely continue your legacy, you have my word." He assures her while observing you.

You lean over the table, strands of your hair falling into your eyes behind your safety glasses, as you test another biological weapon on rats. You look hot in that scientist outfit. He grunts, feeling his pants getting a little too tight. He regrets that he never took the opportunity to visit you here...

"It better be that way. And for God's sake, don't stare at her like a love-struck puppy like you did with your tribute from 12. Patience. Or you will have to train her to make her obedient."

"You know I like a challenge, Dr. Gaul." He replies with a sly, cocky smirk and turns his head towards Doctor Gaul once he has calmed down a bit and composed himself.

"Go away now. Your last Hunger Games must be amazing and unforgettable, or I'll tell her what you have planned for her." He laughs at this, shaking his head.

"I appreciate your attempts to intimidate me, but you know I'll be happy with any outcome. Whether it's keeping her on a leash or reshaping her to meet my needs as my First Lady."

"But we both know which one you would prefer more." They share a sinister smirk. Coriolanus owed her a lot. He's learned many things under her tutelage... things that he uses to make sure you know that your place is always with him.

"As I said, I love a challenge. I will be expecting you as an honoured guest at this year's Hunger Games and my wedding. Of course, right next to my fiancée."

"Don't scare her away, Mr. Snow." She reminds him when he receives a package from her with the latest biological weapon. He will test it at this year's tributes. He smiles, thinking that it must have come from your talented fingers.

"Snow lands on top, Dr. Gaul." He assures her and says goodbye, leaving through a secret passage.

He still had a lot of things to do.

It started innocently… if that's a word you could use to describe Coriolanus Snow.

You knew he wouldn't give up so easily after your breakup and that he would want to come back to you. And that he will use every means to make sure this happens. After all, he was an ambitious bastard who thought he could do anything if he tried hard enough. And Coriolanus had big plans. Plans that you only became aware of when it was too late for you to try and rescue yourself from him.

It started with roses.

Not just any roses. The most beautiful ones Coriolanus could find in his grandmother's garden. Beautiful white roses. A symbol of love, affection, innocence, and loyalty. Everything that Coriolanus lacks.

They were delivered together with a letter in which he deeply assured you of his feelings and asked for a meeting.

You happily threw them into the fireplace.

Then he started sending you roses to the lab. And from the smiles Dr. Gaul was giving you, you knew the bastard had won her over to his side. At least you and your co-worker had some fun destroying them in all sorts of strange ways, starting with burning them with a laser, throwing them into toxic waste, or even breaking them down into the substance you needed for your experiments.

One day, gifts came along with roses. Jewellery, books, clothes (even underwear, if you could call a thin set of strings that), concert tickets with invitations from him (you'd rather cut off your ears than sit next to him in the concert hall or stand by the stage), he did everything to get your attention. Which you happily denied him.

You avoided him like the plague, missing every event he was supposed to be at (even your little sister's graduation from the Academy). But there was one event your family wouldn't let you miss.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Miss Y/L/N and Miss Y/S/N. How nice to see you all together. May the odds be ever in your favour." Dr. Gaul greets you as you arrive at the official opening gala of the Hunger Games.

"Dr. Gaul. Happy Hunger Games." You say back.

"You too, dear child. I can steal you from your parents and sister, can't I?" Your parents nod quickly before you can speak. Dr. Gaul takes you by the arm and leads you to the upper lodge.

"I believe I should sit somewhere else…"

"Nonsense. Mr. Snow made sure your family sat near Mr. and Mrs. Plinth. They have good company, so you can make us that pleasure and sit with us." he says, taking her seat. You see that on your seat is a small piece of paper with your name on it.

"Us?" You question the woman suspiciously.

"Hello, petal." Coriolanus' voice behind you confirms your suspicions. Before he sits down next to you, he leans down and places a long, wet kiss on your cheek, while he tucks the rose behind your ear. One that matches your dress perfectly. You have no idea how the bastard did it. "You look stunning, as always. I was worried you weren't feeling well when I couldn't find you at your sister's graduation."

"I've actually been feeling bad for a few days now. The smell of roses makes me sick." You tell him, not hiding the hostility and coldness in your tone. He frowns at this, obviously not happy with your allusion.

"Maybe you are pregnant?" He replies mockingly, and you glare at him. He smiles at this, placing his hand on your bare knee. You regret not wearing a longer dress. At least you wouldn't have to endure the feel of his skin against yours. Reluctantly, you remember the time when you dreamed of his touch.

"You wish." You say, shaking his hand away as you place your leg over your knee. He doesn't care and instead places his hand on your other knee, making sure the railings of the lodge cover his hand as he gently slides it under your dress. You shiver as his cold hand presses against your warm thigh.

"Oh, you have no idea." He leans gently towards you to whisper in your ear.

Before you have a chance to push him away (or slap him), Coriolanus stands up and gives the opening speech of this year's Hunger Games. You glare at Dr. Gaul, and she just shrugs and turns her attention to the tributes. Only now do you notice that the cameras are focused on your row... and especially on you and Coriolanus.

"Aside from our little jokes… it hurts me that you didn't show up to any of the events I invited you to." He says, sitting down again as the reaping of the tributes begins.

He rests his elbow on your armrest and leans in to whisper in your ear. You know that, from a distance, it looks like he's flirting with you. And you don't like it one bit. Especially since the lives of 24 young teenagers are crashing down at the same time.

"Are you talking about your political events?" You ask, trying to shrug him off and move away from him. He doesn't let you, though, taking your hand in his and placing his hand on your knee, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm talking about our dates, darling."

"We are not together anymore. And we are not going on any dates." You remind him dryly, with great hostility in your voice. The bastrad doesn't even tremble.

"I dare to disagree with you. I never said I was done with you." He says dismissively as his hand roams freely under your dress, tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, despising him and yourself for the way your body responds to his touch.

"Well, I am done with you." You say it firmly, with all the confidence in your voice.

"Are you sure? Your sister is a hell of a smart beast. What a pity if the university did not accept her due to... the increased number of applicants."

"Are you trying to bully me? Threaten?" You ask incredulously, finding the strength to push his hands away from you. He gives you a slightly offended look, but instead of taking your hint and moving away, he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"I'm asking for a little cooperation. The Capitol would see me better if I was... in a committed relationship. And now all eyes are on the two of us and the tributes. They'll disappear as soon as they stop transmitting, and then the eyes of the Capitol will be only on me and you. And because you're sitting very close to me, people will think you didn't come here alone... even if that's what you originally wanted."

"You bastard..." You hiss at him angrily, and he just smiles, half amused, half cocky.

He raises his hand and caresses your cheek tenderly. You want to move away from him, but he holds your jaw tightly with his fingers. He tilts your head up slightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes. He smells of roses and cigars... you wonder if he started smoking after your breakup or for business, to increase the number of contacts during these smoking encounters on the balcony.

"Just one kiss and a smile, sweetheart. Is that so much to give to ensure your younger sister a secure place at university?"

"And what later? Will you force me to get engaged to you? Get married? Create a fictional family?" You ask him furiously, knowing full well that if you give this devil a finger, he will soon demand your entire arm.

"I'm not asking you to marry me. Just about pretending to be my date... for now. You don't want your sister to suffer just because you didn't want to place a kiss on my cheek, do you?" You sigh, knowing he doesn't leave you much of a choice.

"She will choose whatever field of study she wants." You make sure by bargaining with him before you agree to anything he wants you to do. He nods, and you can only hope he has the decency to keep the agreement.

You smile sweetly at him and place your hand on his cheek, turning his face towards you. You press a kiss on his other cheek, making sure to leave a trace of your lipstick. You hear people whistling and clapping in applause.

You pull away from him and keep a fake smile on your lips, ignoring his happy, cocky smirk and tone of voice as he stands up and says an ending speech. As did the shocked looks from your family and Dr. Gaul's mischievous smirk.

You have no idea that this is just the beginning. And even if you do, you try to convince yourself otherwise.

You've had enough.

For a month now, Coriolanus has been showering you with various gifts, following you around like a shadow, taking you to the laboratory, and bringing you home. He forced you to get into his limo once. The next day, it took you an hour to cover the hickeys he left on your neck.

You weren't together; you pushed him away as much as you could, and he tried at all costs to get you back into his arms or bed or into your pants. But now he has crossed the line.

That's why you stormed straight to his office again, bypassing all the secretaries and security with your natural grace.

And what unnerved you the most was how the bastard had the nerve to smile in amusement as you barged into his office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You snap at him angrily, closing the door behind you. You walk over to his desk, the click of your heels echoing around the room as you throw your purse onto the chair and cross your arms, glaring at him.

"I have the impression that your greetings have become more and more dry and aggressive, haven't they, petal?

"My sister failed her first exam, even though I know she wrote it damn well. As it turns out, her professor is a dear friend of yours. Do you have any explanation for this?" You ask him accusingly, and he just smirks and shrugs, not even hiding the fact that he wasn't involved at all.

"Perhaps she didn't study enough?"

"Do you want to take it out on someone? Take it out on me, but leave Y/S/N out of it!" You shout at him madly, pointing a finger at him. He tilts his head at you in curiosity and stands from his chair, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

You don't feel comfortable about him being so close to you, but there's no way that you'll show him that he's making you feel nervous and anxious.

"Calm down, sweetheart. This is exactly the reaction I needed from you." He says, his icy blue eyes piercing right through you, making you almost shiver under his intensive gaze. Even when you were in heels, he was slightly taller than you.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl menacingly, crossing your arms defensively. He just smiles and gently brushes your hair away from your face, smiling softly. He is not gentle. You know about it. He's waiting for your slightest slip or show of weakness.

"I've been trying to contact you for weeks, sending letters, calling, leaving notes, and trying to start a conversation."

"You push me into a limo and molest me." You say, defeating all his attempts to make you feel guilty.

You won't have any Stockholm syndrome. He is the one who pursues you; he is the one who harasses you and won't let you move on after the breakup. He didn't even fucking acknowledge your breakup! The problem was with him, not with you. And you know he saw it fully in your eyes—the certainty that what was between you was far from a healthy relationship. And he doesn't like the direction you're going with your conclusions. That's why he resorts to heavier measures.

You hold back a gasp as he suddenly closes the gap between you with one step and places his hand on your cheek. You let him stroke it tenderly as he leans towards you to whisper seductively in your ear.

"You moaned so beautifully for me that even a deaf person wouldn't think you were forced. Admit that you miss me, just like I miss you. You'll make it easier for all of us."

He pulls away from you just enough to look into your eyes again. You decide to try and play his game and lick your lips, moving your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. You tilt your chin up and lean in, your lips almost brushing against his as you whisper.

"Listen to me carefully, because I'll only say this once. I. Will. Never. Come. Back. To. You. So take a hint and leave me alone." As you finish speaking, you reach for your bag and step away from him. You're walking towards the exit when, halfway there, you hear his quick footsteps behind you.

"Not so fast." He grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him, holding you close to his chest. His eyes turn a raging ocean colour with anger and annoyance at your teasing and mockery. "Do you really want your sister to have to take thousands of exams? Work harder because you couldn't commit one evening to me?"

"Evening?" You ask indignantly and in outrage, at which he laughs.

"Nothing dirty. Although I like your way of thinking..."

"Coriolanus." You interrupt him before he can continue the topic. He rolls his eyes at you, clearly not appreciating you interrupting his fun.

"I need a date for one evening. And after the successful show we put on at the opening of The Hunger Games, people are hungry for... well, more of us. What do you say? Will you find enough courage and willingness to accompany me, my love?"

"And you'll leave Y/S/N alone? No more creating problems for her to get my attention?" You make sure. He smiles... differently. With a strange, dangerous glint in his eye that makes you feel more uneasy than how you were since he pulled you to his chest. And you realise how close he actually is when he leans in, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Have I ever broken my promise to you, Y/N?"

"Surprisingly not." You answer after a long moment, trying to remember any such situation. He always did everything he promised for you. You didn't know if it was his advantage or… a more disquieting trait.

"You see. You have my word. I will fulfil everything I promised you, my little petal. Everything." He whispers softly, making you shiver as he gently takes a rose out of his jacket pocket and places it behind your ear. You knew this supposedly sweet act of his very well. It was the importance of his territory.

After his words, there is a long silence between the two of you. You hold your breath, mesmerised, as you stare into his icy-blue eyes. He was always so… composed around you. It was as if he was always able to do and say exactly what he wanted and planned. It was as if your entire interaction was just a game for him, a game he was convinced he couldn't lose. He lost his temper with you only once—when you surprised him with that break up…. but you aren't sure if he acknowledged it.

You come to your senses and out of his strange charm the moment he leans in so close to you that your noses gently brush against each other.

You pull away from him, much to his displeasure, and clear your throat. You keep your eyes on him, and in a challenge—one of the few acts of rebellion you can commit—you reach for the rose in your hair and take it out.

"When and where is this event?" You growl through clenched teeth.

"Friday evening. I'll pick you up at 8 p.m." He says it nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pocket. He acts as if nothing happened, and he was just inviting you to the party. As if he wasn't threatening your sister's future to force you to hang on his arm as an ornament for one evening... or maybe even longer.

"I'll go there myself."

"Not happening. You're coming there with me. Transportation is on me. After all, you're my date. It would look bad in public opinion if I didn't treat you like... a princess." He says it firmly, with a delicate smile on his lips—not the pleasant, warm one, but the cunning, cold one he showed when he won over his opponent. The one you were starting to get used to.

And you think while looking at him that if you were the princess in this story, then he was the dragon, keeping you in your palace or tower away from other people. To make sure you were completely at his mercy.

"I'm not sitting next to you in the limo or any car. And if you lay your hands on me, I will cut them off with those dull knives they serve to people with the dinner." He's more amused by your threat, but nods obediently. He takes a few steps towards you but stops, leaving a decent distance between you.

"I'd like to see you try. But you have to behave yourself. Or little Y/S/N will repeat her first year at university. Are we clear?"

"Yes. And I already have a dress, so don't you dare send me anything, understood?" He chuckles mockingly at your words, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. You know him too well to be enchanted by such a sight of him. After all, the wolf seems beautiful too, until it attacks you.

"Perfectly. I can't wait to see you then." He says it in a sweet tone of voice. You shake your head and walk towards the exit. "And Y/N." Reluctantly, you turn towards him, your hand on the doorknob. "If I were you, I would have stopped ignoring my calls."

"Go to hell." You say it in an equally sweet tone of voice as his.

You smile at him and throw a rose towards him, bowing. Just like Lucy Gray. You smile victoriously and walk out, slamming the door behind you. You're glad you were able to finally throw him out of control and get him angry.

You leave the building with your head proudly held high. But the truth is that even though you try to pretend that you are controlling your situation with Coriolanus, the truth is that you are not. And you are absolutely terrified by it.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." your sister says as you are walking down the stairs of your house. It was Friday evening, and you were waiting for Coriolanus to come pick you up.

"Thank you, Y/S/N. Revise for the exam?" You ask, walking over to the mirror and putting on your earrings. Your long silver dress hugs your curves perfectly, revealing just enough skin that you don't have to worry about feeling Coriolanus' touch on you.

"Yes. I don't have a handsome boyfriend who would take me to the Capitol Gala. I envy you so much."

"You have nothing to envy, honey. Besides, Coriolanus is not my boyfriend. We broke up." You remind her, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way the younger girl flinches. You sigh and walk over to her with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I just... don't like to remind people about it all the time. Coriolanus and I... we are just friends."

"But you were together at the Hungry Games opening ceremony! All my friends say that you two are a sweet couple and are perfect for each other." She says, adjusting the necklace around your neck, at which you smile fondly. You hug her and place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Sometimes people just… aren't meant to be together. Even if they think otherwise, remember how our parents wanted you to start dating John?" You ask, wrapping one arm around her. She winces and flinches at the memory, making you laugh out loud. You haven't laughed honestly in quite a few weeks.

"Is Coriolanus a self-absorbed idiot? That's why you don't want him?" She asks, comparing him to the boy who courted her.

"No. Not at all. He is... extremely attentive." You say it thoughtfully. And maybe other people would take it as a compliment, but to you... it was a dangerous trait. Alarming. Worrisoming.

"Well, anyway, I hope you have a nice evening. Maybe you two can talk, so he'll stop calling and sending you all this stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to get jewellery from you every other day, but it must be... tiring for you if you don't love him anymore."

You smile at that. She was so… innocent; you, too, once were and believed in love. That's why you were with Coryo. He was gallant, elegant, and handsome. A true gentleman. Until he showed his true side—the side you are now afraid of. He was capable of doing many things to make sure he would get what he wanted. And now he wanted you.

"I want you to be careful..." You say, stroking her braids.

"Of what? Overworked because of studying all night?" She asks teasingly, clearly amused by your serious tone and sudden thoughtfulness.

"Of powerful men." The silence in the room after your words clearly makes your sister anxious, as does your depressed mood.

"Y/N... is everything okay?" You put on a fake smile and hug her one last time before putting your shawl around your arms and grabbing your bag.

"Of course. Don't worry about me. I'm going to have a fun night. Study. I promise it will be worth it." You say, placing a kiss on her forehead, and leave the room and house as you hear the car horn.

"Do you enjoy yourself?" Coriolanus asks, leaning in behind you and whispering in your ear as you stand at the table with alcohol and sweets.

"The champagne is delicious." You turn to look at him, to not have him behind your back, and finish the rest of your drink. You lean on the table, setting the glass down as you look at him carefully. "When can I go back home?"

"Just a few more moments, my petal." He places his hands on your shoulders, massaging them gently. You let him, leaning further into his side and closing your eyes tiredly. "Do you like it?"

"You're a poor masseur, but for lack of better hands…"

"I meant tonight. All those people who fawned over you and looked at you with respect and awe. All these women and men who wanted to fulfil your every little wish... don't you like this feeling of power? Superiority? Knowing that they will do anything to gain your favour?"

"You do it every day around me. This is nothing new." You say it dismissively and turn your back to him, taking a piece of cake from the table and eating it.

"I can stop. And I will stop if you keep pushing me away every time I try to get closer to you, every time I put my hand on your waist, every time I lean in to kiss you, and every time you push my hands away from under your dress. If you continue to insist that you are not mine, I will do things you have never imagined... even in your darkest nightmares."

"What do you want so desperately?" You ask him, irritated, putting the empty plate on the table and looking at him with an angry look as you are sick of whatever game he was playing with you.

"You." He says, taking a step towards you and grabbing your chin. He traces his fingers along your jawline, staring at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. "We had a good time together. You won't deny it."

"We had. And then you cheated on me." You remind him, feeling furious and hurt.

"It didn't mean anything. I told you. I'm sorry. I could have told you before it happened, let you know what I had to do… or found another way..."

"It does not matter. I don't want you anymore, Coriolanus." You tell him honestly, as you are fed up with everything that has happened between you over the past few months.

"You will change your mind."

"No. I won't." You shake your head, making his confident demeanour fall. He stares at you coldly, processing a plan in his head as he gently tightens his hand on your wrist.

"You'll do it if you still want to matter here. Do you think that if I win, I'll let you work in the lab on secret government projects? After you broke my heart so savagely in front of the entire Capitol? Do you think your family will still be willingly invited to social parties? That your family will have any future?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you. You can either accept me, become my wife and First Lady, or I will make sure you get kicked out of the lab and sabotage all your research for the rest of your life."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Are you sure?" You stared at each other for a moment. You sigh, angry and frustrated, and shake your head, not believing what's happening. "Let's go outside. You could use some fresh air to calm down." Before you can answer him anything, he leads you outside, his hand on your back and suspiciously close to your ass.

You sigh, feeling the cold air of the Capitol on your hot cheeks. Reluctantly, you take Coriolanus' arm as he leads you deeper into the garden to a more secluded spot.

"You wouldn't have a bad life with me. As my First Lady, you would have everything you wanted. I would fund your research. You could leave Dr. Gaul's lab and build your own, not wait for her to die, so you can inherit her legacy. You could have built your own one."

"No, Coriolanus! You can't bribe me! If you really think that I am shallow enough to agree to marry you and to play according to the illusion you have created in your head, then you are delusional. WE. ARE. DONE."

You turn around and try to get away from him. But before you can, Coriolanus grabs your hand and spins you around, causing you to bump straight into his chest.

Before you can even think about slapping him, he captures your lips with his. You moan even more in shock into his mouth when you feel him place something cold on your finger.

You somehow manage to wriggle out of his grip enough so that his hands and mouth can't reach you. You stare at the ring on your finger in shock. A big fucking diamond that probably glows in the dark and you could gouge out his eyes with if you hit him... which you really wanted to do right now.

"What are you doing?! Corio-mph!" He cuts you off with a kiss before you can get anyone's attention with your scream or really hit him.

You struggle against his grip, your nails digging into his arms, but he just groans and pins you to the tree, ignoring the pain you caused him. Before you can even realise where his hands are, he reaches back and unbuttons your dress. The material slides down to your hips, giving him a perfect view of your bare breasts.

You shiver as you watch him lick his lips and lean down to fuck the skin of your collarbone with kisses, holding your hips in an iron grip as he pins you to the tree. The cold air hits your bare skin, in contrast to Coriolanus's hot breath and tongue.

"I missed you." He whispers in your ear as his hands cup the curve of your breasts and squeeze them.

His touch is everywhere, slithering over you and clinging to you like a snake, wrapping itself around you tenderly and greedily, taking advantage of every opportunity he has. His mouth is as dynamic as his hands, biting at the tender spots of your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his own when all he can think about is your body, pressed against him.

"I can give you everything. The whole world. For your touch, kiss, and moan when you come around me. All you have to do is accept me, me, and our future. It only takes one yes from you to make you my equal... and it only takes one no from you to make me destroy everything you love and everything you know. I will be the only one you can come to and the only person you will remember. I will destroy you if that is the price of having you, Y/N. I promise you that."

His whispered words against your skin, the hot touch of his tongue in all the right places on your neck, his hands teasing your breasts, and your quick, heavy breaths are distracting. You can't think straight, not when he's stimulating your senses, teasing your nipples, or when he's whispering his dark promises you should've been afraid of.

You come to your senses the moment one of his hands cups your abused breasts and slips under your dress, cupping your pussy. His long fingers tease you through the fabric of your panties, collecting the wetness he caused, and that's when the gravity of the whole situation hits you.

"No. Stop it. Stop! Help!" You scream, trying to push him away, but he covers your mouth with his hand brutally, drowning out any screams. You squeal as he presses his knee against your clothed cunt in an attempt to tease you.

You look at him with wide eyes as you freeze when his knee begins to rub against your most sensitive, wet (to your defeat and disgust) at his attention, part of your body.

"It ends only with me inside you, so you can either be a good girl for me or continue to be a stubborn brat and delay and deny us our pleasure. You have no idea how many times I came just from watching you from afar. You have no idea how much I want, crave, and desire you. I can't think or function normally. I can't create any plans without thinking about how wonderfully this tight pussy felt around me and how I need your soft walls to tighten around me again. So shut up and let me bring pleasure to us both, or try to keep fighting. Your stubborn struggle only excites me more, my petal."

To confirm his words, he presses himself against you, making you feel his hardness pressing through his pants and pressing against your lower abdomen. You breathe quickly, trying to think of a way out of this situation. You were in the fucking garden in the middle of a party—the gala of the year! Someone must have come here. He couldn't have just... taken you here.

"So? Will you finally accept your fate and place by my side, or do I need to break you? And trust me… I'll have even more fun."

His hands move to your hips. He changes your position, pressing you against the tree, his length rubbing through his pants against your clothed and wet core. You are trapped.

You could resist him, and maybe he would let you go... but then what? You and your family will be destroyed in the eyes of the Capitol if he wins and becomes president. You'll be finished, and your whole career will go to hell if you don't do it.

So you sigh, defeated. You close your eyes, place your hands on his shoulders, hold him for balance, and nod your head, surrendering to him.

"Look at me." You reluctantly comply, meeting his icy eyes with yours. His pupils are fully dilated, a faint blush decorates his cheeks, and you see the glint of victory and satisfaction in his eyes as he delights in his prey. You. "I need your words, my little petal." You bite your lip, furious that he's making you beg for him like a bitch in heat. As if he wasn't the one who desperately needed you all this time.

"I... please." You spit out, not looking at him. He grabs your neck in his grip and forces you to meet his gaze as his clothed body presses against your naked one, only in panties, your dress having slipped completely off of you at some point in your... conversation.

"Please what? More conviction and self-confidence, darling. Continue to be my little brat."

"Just fuck me, Coriolanus." You say it angrily, meeting his smug look. He smirks cockily, and in one quick movement, he cups the cheeks of your buttom with his hands and lifts you up, pinning you to the tree with his hips. You moan as he rubs against your clothed pussy and squeezes your ass tightly.

"Gladly." He growls, crashing into your mouth hungrily.

You gasp as he tears your panties in half, the cool night air hitting your exposed, hot womanhood. He moves his mouth to your breasts, sucking hickeys there as he teases your slick folds, making you blush with embarrassment at how wet you were for him.

He's not trying to stretch you or prepare you for taking his thick length after... such a long time of separation. The undoing of his belt and the zipper of his pants are the only warnings you get as you feel the tip of his cock with pre-cum rubbing at your entrance.

As he begins to enter you, you lower your head and bite into his neck, ignoring the collar of his shirt that covers most of his skin. Your saliva soaks his shirt as you moan into his neck.

"You know, I could have fucked you raw the day you thought you could leave me. I guess I should've done that. Put you over my knee for being a brat, give you a few spanks to remind you of your place, and fuck the baby inside you so you can focus on something meaningful. After all, your womb belongs to me, as do all of you. Although I don't know if you'd moan as sweetly and loudly as you do now… What kind of feeling is it? Having someone who you swore you despised wholeheartedly inside you? You take me too well, darling. Your smart, stubborn mouth may call me the worst names, but as long as those wet and tight down there welcome me like home, we both know what the truth is. We both know you want it as much as I do." He says, grunting as he pushes his cock into your tight pussy.

You both moan as he buries himself up to his balls inside you.

He grabs your hair and pulls your face away from his neck, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he gives you time to get used to the feeling of him inside you again. You mockingly think to yourself that he's waiting because he's afraid he'll finish too soon.

He fucks a line of kisses along your jaw as he begins to move. You hiss, digging your nails into his shoulders as you hold on to him. You think you've made a few little holes in his shirt with your nails, but that's your last concern now as he pounds into you faster and faster.

You both try to be quiet, trying not to attract anyone's attention, although, judging by the loud music coming from inside the building, it's unlikely that anyone will be looking for you. And hearing your grunts and moans is rather a huge challenge, but still, the last thing you want is for someone to walk into both of us...

"Mine. Only mine." Coriolanus growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful First Lady. Fuck. My future First Lady. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around this secluded part of the garden.

You think about everything. About how perfectly he fills you, what a bastard he is, how he drives you crazy with his words and moans and touches and thrusts, and how bad it is that you enjoy having sex with him and despise what he has done. But you have some needs too...

Unfortunately, Coriolanus was the only one who could meet them and satisfy you.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. We are the two sides of the same coin… WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss, but it is immediately followed by the realisation of what you have done.

You gave yourself to him. You agree to be engaged to him. The entire Capitol will be watching you. You will have to marry him if he wins the elections.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when he starts to move. But you don't open your eyes. You don't want to see him in his post-orgasmic state. You don't want to see his smug smirk and the twinkle in his eyes. You feel him press a kiss on your temple and slowly pull himself out of you, making you both moan.

You shiver as he sets you on your feet, supporting your waist with his hands. You feel how his seed, and your juices are lazily oozing down your thighs, reminding you of what you agreed to. About your deal with the devil.

You whine, grabbing his wrist in protest as he swipes the excess of your combined cum from your thighs and cunt.

"Don't worry, I know your limits." He says, pulling his hand away from your grip and licking it off. He gives you one of his fingers to suck, which you reluctantly agree to as he stuffs it into your mouth. "Good girl."

"Screw you."

He laughs at your hostility and zips up his pants. He reaches for your dress and helps you get back into it. After he rips your panties, you have to go without them, clearly feeling... the effects of your hot little moment.

"And what now?" You ask him as he puts on his jacket and buttons it, trying his best to hide the bloody marks you left on him.

"We go back to the party, I say goodbye to everyone I need to, and we leave. I have some rings for you to try on in my apartment. The one on your finger is only for a moment. It's big enough for them to notice it and start gossiping. You can choose which one you like more. My bed was also rather lonely and cold without you in it." He suggests, seductively, running a finger along your bare arm as he places the straps of your dress over your shoulders, making sure they don't slide down.

"Don't hope for more moments like this. I can play the doting fiancée in front of the Capitol, but behind closed doors, I'm not going to pretend that you're anything more than a pathetic, cold man who needs affection from someone who despises you with all her heart." You growl and push him away from you. You put your heels back on and take out your lipstick, powder, and mirror from your purse, fixing your appearance.

"It didn't look like you despised me when you cum around my cock just a few minutes ago." He points it out and walks over to you. He fixes his hair and yours and offers you his arm once you fix your makeup. You roll your eyes when you see in the mirror that he has tucked a rose behind your ear. AGAIN.

"Oh, shut up. I'd come around anyone. I haven't had sex in months." You say it angrily and place your hand in the crook of his arm as he leads you back towards the building and to the party.

"Same here." You snort derisively, not believing his confession even for a second.

"As if I could ever trust you again. Besides, you can fuck with Cardew and the others as much as you want. I don't care."

"I prefer to be with you, my little petal. Smile. We'll have company soon." He puts his arm around yours, pulling you closer to him as you walk down the path. In fact, Lucky Flickerman comes around the corner, talking with some women and men. They all giggle. The man stops when he sees the two of you.

"Oh... well... it looks like our future president is a womanizer." Coriolanus grimaces at his last word but is clearly happy that Lucky believes in his victory, so he smiles politely at the man.

"Quite the opposite. We just celebrated our engagement." He announces it proudly, and you hear the rest of Flickerman's company gossiping livelyly, watching you even more closely.

For the first time, you appreciate Coriolanus' strong arm wrapped around your waist. It's rather hard for you to stand after what you two did together a few minutes ago. You're glad you were able to finish before the group left for their walk.

"Oh! Congratulations! You have to come to my new show. People will go crazy when they hear about how Capitol's most popular couple is taking the next step in their relationship! And I think we are all very curious about your beginnings. And the wedding will come soon! I guess right after the election, am I wrong? Oh, it doesn't matter, lovebrids. It is indeed an amazing year for the society of Capitol and Panem."

"We will, Lucretius. Maybe as a presidential couple? Who knows... What do you think about it, my darling? Would you like an interview about us?" Coriolanus turns his head and looks at you questioningly, with mock concern and affection in his eyes. Only you can see how false his act is... or at least you think he is just pretending.

You hear one of the women gushing over the look and the way Coriolanus addresses you. The clever bastard plays the card of a guy who is head over heels in love to gain even more sympathy from society before the elections.

"It would be amazing, honey." You reply with a smile, leaning more into him as Flickerman and the others say how adorable the two of you are.

And you just stand there smiling, playing your part as the happy bride. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Coriolanus stealing glances at you, and you can't help but wonder... is he really that good at acting, or is he serious in his desire for you and your feelings?

Coriolanus's arm wraps around your waist possessively, like a snake, as the two of you pose for photos. Camera flashes blind you, but you keep a fake smile on your lips.

Several months have passed since your... interaction in the garden. You continued to play his loving fiancée in front of the Capitol, but you remained cold and uncaring towards him. You haven't fucked in the garden since then. You made sure to push and move away from him whenever he got too close to you in private.

Luckily, you didn't have to move into his apartment, and you still lived with your parents. You managed to convince him that moving would be pointless if you were about to move into the presidential palace. You prayed every day that this wouldn't happen.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he turns his head to look at you. You automatically do the same without thinking much about it. And that's your mistake. When you meet his intense gaze of icy blue eyes... you can't look away. You feel like he's holding you tightly by the chin and forcing you to look into his irises... But how can you look away when you see emotions in his eyes that they would never dare admit to you? And judging by the way it sent photographers into a frenzy as they screamed in excitation, you know you're not the only one who saw it.

You still can't figure out if it's just an act or if he actually has feelings for you. Something more than a sick obsession. Maybe you were really starting to have symptoms of Stockholm syndrome?

He pulls you from your thoughts as he leans towards you to tell you something, trying to shout over the crowd around you.

"Are you ready? Shall we go to our seats?"

You nod at him. He takes your hand in his and leads you inside the building, where the official announcement of the results is to take place. The crowd around you whistles in delight as he sees how protectively he treats you and how he guides you through the crowd while making sure you keep up with his pace and don't follow him. He has you beside him, gently distant away—enough for him to be able to cover you in case of any danger.

He leads you to a place of honour next to Dr. Gaul. He kisses you on the cheek and leaves to take his place on the podium in front of the cameras with the other candidates.

"Nice ring." The woman next to you says, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"He would put a collar around my neck with his name on it if he could. I suppose you would help him with that." You snort indignantly and furiously, at which she laughs.

"I can't deny that I'm rooting for you two." You roll your eyes at her and focus your gaze on Lucky, who opens the event.

You know very well that if he becomes president, you will lose everything. All your freedom. You will have to play the role of his devoted wife and mother to his children for the rest of your life. It is true that you will have funds at your disposal to conduct your own research in the laboratory, but will it make you happy? Could you live like that?

"But there can only be one winner…" Lucky's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You and the entire Capitol are waiting for the results. To hear the name of your new president. "And that is CORIIOLANUS SNOW! Ladies and gentlemen, let's salute our president!"

The world is dying around you. People shout and chant the name of Coriolanus; there is a huge noise of applause and joy. You won't leave your seat. You sit there, frozen, realising the harsh truth. Now, nothing can stop him. He can do anything he wants, and you know damn well that he, like all these people, has no boundaries.

"But where is he? Where is our president?" Before you can look around, you feel hands cupping your face as someone pulls you to the left. Coriolanus' lips crash against yours, and you can only moan into his sudden, passionate kiss and let him do whatever he wants. "Oh, yes, that's where he is! Where else could a man be after hearing that he had won? Of course, at the side of his chosen one, his life companion, and his beloved! This is how it should be, my friends! This is who the Capitol has chosen! A man who loves his woman above all else and shares his joys and sorrows with her. That's the real power, my friends. The power of love. Ladies and gentlemen, our president, who is heading right this way, Coriolanus Snow!"

You don't remember what happened next or what speech he made. Strangely enough, consciousness fully returns to you after a few glasses of champagne and wine. You are standing near the bar, away from the large crowd. Coriolanus is already giving another interview when Dr. Gaul approaches you.

"I warned you." She says, and you raise a questioning eyebrow at her. "When you started dating. That there is nothing more dangerous and beneficial to women than powerful men."

"You knew since then?"

"Of course. He is obsessed with power and control. He had his little songbird, but she ran away. Then he met you and you became his new... love interest or obsession. This boy is hard to read sometimes." He tells you as you both look at Coriolanus. Somehow, he feels your eyes on him. He nods at Dr. Gaul and throws you a smirk before his attention returns to the journalist.

"So... it was never true?" You ask, placing your empty glass on the bar.

"I think he cares about you... on his own way." She tells you, which doesn't make you feel any better. You sigh deeply and order a glass of vodka, which you immediately drink. "Oh, don't be so sad. That's life, my child. My husband was just like him. He was a controlling manipulator, but he had one thing that I didn't, the thing that helped me achieve greatness and be where I am now. To be a legend. An icon."

"And what was that?" You ask resignedly, focusing your attention on her.

"Money. A rich and, above all, powerful man is able to do anything if he is madly in love. And Mr. Snow is a perfect example of this. Tell me... how much money has he already put into you? How much did you get in return for the ounce of attention and closeness he so desperately craves? You didn't want to be a whore, but we women have to act like one sometimes."

"There must be another way." You argue, unable to accept such a… cruel truth, but she just laughs bitterly, mockingly.

"There is not. This is the world of men, my child. It is their pride that guides and makes all important decisions. Behind every man, however, there is a woman who... has the strength to overshadow his pride and direct him the way she wants. Unfortunately, you have to seduce him if you want to get what you want. But I know you. And I know you will be able to do it. I know that you, of all people, are the closest to following my path and carrying my legacy."

"I am not like you." You respond quickly, outraged by the ideas she's giving you and her opinion of you.

"Of course not. There are no women or men like me. Besides, you may become the First Lady. The most powerful woman in all of Panem. Take it. Accept his proposal and the ring that you think will be your prison. Use it wisely. To your advantage. It's a chance that not many of us have. Think about it."

You don't have a chance to answer her. Coriolanus approaches you with a huge smile on his face. He places a quick kiss on your cheek and wraps his hand around your waist before turning his full attention to Dr. Gaul.

"Congratulations, Mr. Snow. Or should I say... Mr. President?" She asks him teasingly with a smug, proud smirk. Eventually, her student became president.

"Dr. Gaul, you, of all people, can call me whatever you want." He responds with extreme happiness—a sight that is truly rare. You also think that he is more clingy than usual.

"I shall leave you two to celebrate then, President Snow." She says it with a smile and walks past you, giving you a wink.

You sigh, which doesn't go unnoticed by Coriolanus. He rubs his hand gently over your back and stands in front of you, leaning against the bar.

"We have to go. Photographers and papparazi are dying to take a picture of us both." He says, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You grab his hand and place it against your neck, staring at him from under your eyelashes as you lean towards him and whisper seductively.

"Don't you want to accept my... very warm congratulations first, Mr. President?"

You see that he is surprised by your behavior. He freezes for a moment in shock, looking at you carefully. He licks his lips as his thoughts race, and you casually run your hand over his vest, supposedly straightening it but actually caressing him gently, especially his abdominal muscles through the fabric of his clothes.

"What do you mean?" He asks shakily, swallowing as you intrude even further into his personal space.

"You know what..." You whisper, pressing your leg against his crotch. He hisses, feeling you rub your knee against his cock, which is hardening from your attention. He looks around the room quickly, relieved to see that no one is looking at you.

"Why such a sudden change?" He asks, quickly grabbing your hand that was getting dangerously close to the waistband of his pants as he begins to lead you out of the party and into a more… secluded room.

"There is no change. I still hate you and despise you. But what can I say... I am very drawn to a powerful man, my darling..." You mock him, calling him cute nicknames as he closes the door behind you.

You gasp, surprised, when he pins you immediately against the door. You feel his length press against your hip as he leans over you to whisper in your ear.

"You're going to fall in love with me again. I promise you this, my little petal." And with that, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing his oath.

And as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan as his hands roam and tease your pussy with his fingers, preparing you for him, you wonder if even despite your dislike for him, he'll be able to do it. After all, he was a powerful man... but you were an equally powerful woman.

2K notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

Can you do a Paul Lahote X reader

Where it’s based off in New Moon

Bella and their sibling Reader go visit the pack after Bella found out about shifters (Thanks ti Paul shifting from anger).

And since Bella already told her sibling about the Cullens being Vampires, obviously she would tell them about Jacob and the rez being shifters.

And it fast forwards to Bella and Reader to officially meet the pack. When the two meets the pack Reader makes eye contact with Paul Lahote which causes Paul to imprint.

P.s. im pretty sure the pack can tell when someone imprints.

❝imprint❞

✭ pairing : paul lahote x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is the sister of Bella swan, when Jacob begins ignoring Bella, Bella takes it upon herself to find out and like always when trouble arrises where one swan goes the other swan isn’t to far behind

✭ authors note : firstly the girls picture I used looked so similar to Bella to me that I just had to use that specific one

✭ twilight masterlist

Bella Swan had reached her breaking point. For weeks now, Jacob Black had been ignoring her, leaving her with a heartache that seemed to grow with each passing day. Desperate for answers, Bella decided it was time to confront him, even if it meant dragging her sister (Y/N) along with her.

The two sisters made their way to the Quileute reservation, where Jacob and his pack resided. As they arrived, Bella couldn't help but notice Paul Lahote and a few other boys standing outside. Determined, she approached them, her eyes scanning the group in search of Jacob.

"Hey," Bella called out, her voice laced with frustration. "Where's Jacob?"

Paul smirked, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you care? He's clearly moved on."

Bella's heart sank at Paul's words, but she refused to back down. "I deserve an explanation. We were friends, and he's been avoiding me for no reason."

The other boys exchanged glances, refusing to meet Bella's gaze. It was clear they were hiding something, but they weren't willing to share the truth.

(Y/N) had been waiting patiently in the car, but a sudden unease washed over her. Trusting her instincts, she stepped out and made her way towards Bella, unaware of the events that were about to unfold.

Paul's rude comment about Jacob pushed Bella over the edge. Without thinking, she slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the quiet reservation.

Paul's body trembled, his expression contorting in pain. In an instant, he transformed into a massive wolf, his fur bristling with anger. Panic surged through Bella's veins, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the creature before her.

(Y/N) sprinted towards them, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't let her sister face this danger alone. Just as she reached them, Jacob burst onto the scene, his own transformation complete.

"Bella, move!" Jacob's voice was urgent, filled with concern for her safety. He lunged at Paul, a fierce growl erupting from his throat.

(Y/N) found herself locking eyes with Paul, their gaze holding for a brief moment. And in that instant, everything changed. Paul's anger evaporated, replaced by a look of wonder and awe.

He imprinted on her.

Paul saw their future together, a life filled with love and happiness. He saw them dating, getting married, and even raising a child together. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his newfound emotions, Paul turned and disappeared into the depths of the surrounding woods, still in his wolf form.

As the dust settled, Jacob's eyes softened, his focus shifting from Paul to Bella. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched into his voice.

Bella nodded, speechless, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and relief. But it was (Y/N) who held the weight of the revelation, her mind swirling with the implications of what had just occurred.

Jacob, his eyes filled with remorse and determination, took a deep breath before speaking. "I owe you an explanation, Bella. And (Y/N), I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess. But if you're willing to listen, there's a gathering tonight at the beach, we’re having barn fire. You'll hear the truth there."

Bella glanced at her sister, who nodded in agreement, her curiosity piqued. They both knew that this was their chance to finally uncover the secrets that had been shrouding Jacob and his pack.

As evening fell, Bella and (Y/N) made their way to the barn, their hearts pounding with anticipation. The sound of crackling fire and laughter filled the air, as the Quileute tribe and the pack celebrated their ancestral traditions.

Jacob approached them, his eyes sincere. "Thank you for coming. I promise, I'll explain everything."

The sisters found a spot near the fire, surrounded by the members of the pack and the Quileute tribe. Jacob stood at the center, his voice carrying through the crowd as he recounted the legends of their people.

He spoke of the Quileute tribe's ancient connection to the wolf spirit, and how some members of the tribe possessed the ability to transform into powerful, enormous wolves. He revealed the long-standing feud between his pack and the Cullens, the "cold ones" as they were known, who were vampires.

As Jacob spoke, Bella and (Y/N) listened intently, their eyes widening with each revelation. They were captivated by the tales of their battles against the Cullens, how they protected their land and loved ones from the vampire threat.

Paul, who had been nearby, approached (Y/N) cautiously after Jacob finished his story. "Can we talk?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to expect. But something in Paul's eyes told her that he genuinely wanted to connect with her, to explain the strange imprinting bond that had formed between them.

She nodded, and the two of them stepped away from the gathering, finding a quiet spot where they could talk undisturbed.

Paul took a deep breath, his eyes searching (Y/N)'s face. "I never expected this to happen," he began. "Imprinting is a powerful force, one that we can't control. It's like an instant, unbreakable bond that forms between two people."

(Y/N) listened, her heart pounding with a mix of confusion and curiosity. She had heard of imprinting before, but experiencing it firsthand was an entirely different matter.

Paul continued, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. "When I looked into your eyes, I saw our future together. I saw us dating, getting married, and even having a child. It scared me at first, but now, I can't deny the pull I feel towards you."

(Y/N)'s mind raced, trying to process the enormity of what Paul was saying. She had only just met him, and yet, this supernatural bond had formed between them. She couldn't deny the connection she felt, the strange familiarity that seemed to draw her towards him.

"I don't know what this means for us," Paul admitted, his expression earnest. "But I want to figure it out, if you're willing."

(Y/N) took a moment to gather her thoughts, her gaze meeting Paul's. "I don't understand it fully either," she confessed. "But I'm willing to explore this connection, to see where it leads."

A smile tugged at the corners of Paul's lips, relief washing over his features. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

As they rejoined the gathering, Bella and (Y/N) felt a sense of newfound understanding and acceptance. The truth had been revealed, and their lives would never be the same again. They were embarking on a journey into a world of supernatural beings, where love, loyalty, and destiny intertwined in ways they could never have imagined.

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andvys · 2 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of loss, allusions to depression, fear of loss, hurt/comfort. reader calls her sister 'twinkie', mentions of abuse, mentions of sex

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As Steve shows up on your doorsteps with an apology, you let him see more of just the you he already knows

Word count: 7.6k+

Author's note: shoutout to my co-writer (shut up, you wrote the dialogues and ideas with me, don't say anything) @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His heart was pounding, his body was shaking, his eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he stared at the same exact spot. The dried blood on his hands was starting to make him feel sick. It was Eddie’s blood. He hadn’t cleaned it off yet, he was still in shock, still in pain after what they had all gone through.

Eddie made it, he was going to be okay, his injuries were bad and he was losing blood, a lot of blood, but he would be okay. And yet, Steve had felt anything but it.

He almost lost a friend, he almost lost Max, he almost lost… you.

He was sitting down beside you, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up and face you. You looked so… dead. Your skin lost its color, and the bandage around your head was new, yet there was a blood stain already. The machines were beeping beside you, it was the only sound in the room.

And then the door opened, only then did he lift his head to look up, expecting it to be your parents or maybe your sister but it was only Nancy. A cup of coffee from the machine outside in her hand, a sad look still resting on her features.

“Hey,” she whispered as she walked towards him, handing him the cup, “here, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a regular coffee.”

They’d been together for over a year and she couldn’t even remember what he liked. Should he even be surprised? No. A small thing like this still managed to hurt him.

“Thanks, Nance,” he mumbled as he tried to give her a smile. He reached for the cup, ignoring the way it felt when his fingers brushed hers, how his heart had fluttered despite her rejection only a few hours back.

She cleared her throat and looked away, sitting down at the end of the bed, she looked at you.

He took a sip of the hot coffee as he leaned back in the chair, he avoided looking at you still, instead he kept his focus on her, the way he always did. There was disbelief, anger and sadness flashing in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I can’t believe that Jason did that to her,” she whispered, “I knew I saw something in his eyes, I just didn’t think that he was this violent.”

Steve nodded.

He too was still in disbelief.

You survived the night in the upside down, you fought off bats, didn’t even bat an eye when one of them got you good, but Jason, you almost didn’t survive him. And Steve felt so much rage as he sat there and thought of the guy that almost murdered you.

“Yeah, me neither.”

There are monsters in different dimensions, in dark worlds, ones that do not know of a different way of living, they exist to kill because it is in their nature. But sometimes there are worse monsters, ones that hide behind kind eyes, ones that are raised into a world that should be more humane but because of them, it never will be. This world will always be just as dark as all the other ones that exist in secret. Jason was one of the monsters that got to you.

This world is a hell just like the ones he and his friends had been dragged into but there’s still kindness left, peace and order. Though, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what this world would have turned into if Vecna had won.

He would have brought endless war and chaos on this planet and people would have followed, they would have turned against each other so quickly. Everything would have crumbled into pieces.

Shivers ran down his spine as he thought of what could’ve happened had they not stopped him. You were a part of it all, you helped in stopping him, had you not been at the Creel house, things could’ve gone sideways so easily.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, clearing his throat. “Thank you… You know, for jumping into the water and saving my ass back there.”

Nancy furrowed her brows, a soft laugh fell from her lips, she looked away from you and turned to face him, shaking her head a little.

“Everyone did.. And, she did first. She jumped first on the boat and she jumped first into the water, then I followed, then Robin and then Eddie.”

His eyes widened, flashed with confusion as he tilted his head at her.

“Huh? Who jumped first?”

Nancy’s blue eyes were filled with confusion, her bangs fell in front of her eyes as she turned back to you, saying your name.

You were the first to jump.

You were the one to go after him first.

You wanted to save him.

How could he throw such horrible words at you after what you had done for him? After risking your life to save him?

He wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the guilt that kept him up all night. He wanted nothing more than to drive over to your place and apologize, even if he would have to drop to his knees, he would.

But Max had told him that it was better to wait, to give you the time that you need, so that’s what he did. But he was going crazy, the guilt and the regret were eating at him, making him feel worse and worse with each passing second.

Going to work that day had been torture as well, he was nervous and restless, he kept bouncing his knee and tapping his pen against the unmarked crossword in front of him. His mind was forcing him to think of you, of the look in your eyes, of the tears and the hurt. He felt so awful, he felt like King Steve again and he is someone he despises, just the way he despises himself, right this second.

Robin told him to leave before he could even finish his shift, knowing that all he wanted was to set things straight, to make things right with you.

And here he is now, standing on your porch with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

He doesn’t know how you will react to seeing him here, but knowing you, he is certain that you will slam the door in his face – he’d deserve it.

He rang the doorbell once before, but you didn’t open it. He wonders if you saw his car in your driveway already. He rings it again, hoping for you to open, hoping for you to give him a chance so he can… try, try to make it up to you.

He tugs at his hair, feeling more and more stressed the longer it takes you to open. As he stands there, staring at the wooden door, he realizes that it’s only the second time that he stands here, on your porch, on the doorsteps of a big house, just as big as the one he lives in, if not bigger. The inside of your home is just as much of a mystery to him as you are.

Steve knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing and he still opened his mouth and threw words at you that you didn’t deserve – even when you pushed him, even when you were being mean to him, you had never sunk so low just to hurt him, not once.

After he got all this anger off his chest, you were no longer the girl he saw before, you were someone else, someone vulnerable, someone heartbroken and that hurt even more to think about.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when you finally open the door. He snaps his head up and his eyes meet yours for the first time that day.

He had seen you in a bad state before, after your fight with Jason Carver, after the surgery that saved your life, you looked bad. Your skin was marked with bruises and scars, you had that traumatized look in your eyes that no one dared to even mention. You barely ate or talked for the first few days, whether it was because of the surgery or the trauma that Carver had left you with, you were in a bad, bad state.

But he had never seen you like this before.

Not even the sadness from last night was this strong as the one in your eyes now. They are glassy, a mix of anger and hurt swirling in them. Your lips are puffy just like your eyes, from all the crying. Your hair is messy, a big hoodie that doesn’t even seem to belong to you hanging loosely on your form.

Another pang of guilt hits him at the sight of you.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you try to slam the door shut again, but he jumps forward, pressing his palm against it, “Blondie, please! I just want to talk!”

He hears your sniffle, like you’re trying not to cry again. You stop pushing against the door but you don’t pull away either, you don’t let him see you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he hears you say.

“I-I just want to apologize, I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it. I messed up.. fuck..” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling desperate to fix this between you two, “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry, Blondie.”

“Y-You’re forgiven, now please leave..”

The weakness in your voice makes him feel like the worst person alive, knowing that he is the cause of your suffering, right now.

How did you feel last night?

“No,” he begs, shaking his head as though you could see him, “please just let me in, I-I want to talk to you, I want to fix it, please let me fix it.”

You are silent on the other side of the door, you don’t move, you don’t speak. You hesitate. And it feels like forever that he stands here with a pounding heart, willing you to open the door and let him see you, talk to you.

Without a word, you open the door and you step aside, crossing your arms over your chest.

He swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he takes in the sight of you, once again.

You stare at him with both impatience and annoyance now, wanting to get this over with quickly, while he wants time – time with you.

He had never felt such desperation before, especially now that he sees you.

“There’s nothing to fix, it’s okay, you told me what you–”

He says your name, and he says it so desperately that it shuts you up.

“I won’t leave until I can properly apologize to you.”

You blink, your upper lip twitches and you take a moment, staring at him for what feels like forever until you nod.

“Fine..”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He takes a deep breath before he steps inside the house he has never been in before, he closes the door behind him and he can’t help but look around, taking in the sight of the big hallway, the wide stairs are on the right side, pictures hang on the wall all the way up to the second floor, there is one that is slightly bigger than the others, and even from afar, he recognizes you – you are no older than twelve in that picture, you wore a wide smile on your face, pigtails that were tied with pink bows at the end, you were wearing a dress and you looked happy in a way he had never seen before. Your big sister was next to you, holding your hand as your parents stood behind you both, the smiles were genuine, even on their faces.

Only as he stares at the picture, does he realize that he has never actually seen your parents before.

“Are your parents home?” He asks without looking at you, still questioning

You hesitate.

“No… I uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, not knowing what else to say or do.

Steve is too busy staring at the picture, trying to remember your parents, wondering why they didn’t come to visit you at the hospital, only your sister came to see you.

When he looks down at you, away from the picture of the girl that once looked so happy, he now sees a broken one, for the first time, he sees past those glares and cold looks.

He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m really sorry about all the awful shit I said to you last night, I was angry a-and I let it out on you and you did not deserve this, you really didn’t deserve any of the words I threw at you.”

You blink, and you press your lips together just like you did before, just like you did last night.

“It’s okay–”

“No, I said things that I had no clue about and I never wanna do that again. I just, I want to understand you.. I want to get to know you because.. fuck, I’m realizing how much I’m hurting you.”

Your eyes soften and you genuinely look surprised at his words, eyeing him as you stay silent.

You don’t blame him, he’s not at fault, not entirely. He knows nothing about you or your life, so how could he know that those words would cause so much damage?

You carry guilt, just like he does.

You both kept throwing knives at each other, hitting one target after the other but you were both blindfolded to the pain you were causing to each other.

You shift, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater you are wearing, you close your eyes for one second, taking a deep breath, before you open them again and look up at Steve.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, surprising him with your words.

He expected you to be more stubborn than this, but you seem willing to let him get to know you, the real you.

“Anything you want to give me really.. so… I just want to stop hurting you without me realizing it… I don’t… I need to stop hurting you, Blondie.”

You look at him, really look at him, and you notice that he looks just as bad as you do. His hair is messy – a very unusual sight for him. He has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept all night and his eyes are filled with guilt.

With a sigh, you tilt your head into the direction of the living room, motioning him to follow. You turn on the lamp on the dresser, making the room appear lighter, it’s gloomy outside and the rain has been falling all morning, it only just stopped.

“Sit,” you mumble, pointing to the couch, “wait here.”

He nods at you and sits down, he watches you leave the room again and listens to your footsteps as you make your way upstairs. He looks around, there are fewer pictures around here, though still enough for him to get curious about your parents again. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers on the small table in front of him – Daisies. A throw blanket lays on the other end of the couch, an open book next to it, were you reading when he got here?

It doesn’t take you long to come back into the room.

Steve’s brows furrow a little when he sees the shoebox in your hand, you place it in front of him and take a deep breath as you look into his eyes, pointing to the box.

“Here’s everything you need to know about me.”

His lips part at your words.

“You can look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know and then we can… move past all of this and go back to the way things were before yesterday.”

He blinks, noticing how your shoulders slumped a little, you don’t want to go back to the way things were, and neither does he. He enjoys the bickering but not when it means that he is hurting you.

You break eye contact, and turn around, “I’m gonna get us something to drink, feel free to look..”

And with that, you leave again and Steve, he stares at the box for a while, feeling like he is about to intrude, despite you telling him to open it, to look inside, he still feels like he is intruding. But his curiosity gets the best of him, he removes the lid carefully and puts it down on the table.

Polaroid Pictures.

So many of them. The box is filled, all the way up to the top with pictures of friends and family. The first one that catches his eye is the one of you and Max. He reaches for it, bringing it closer. You are both smiling into the camera, Max is wearing her red sunglasses and you are wearing your heart shaped ones, an ice cream cone in her hand and a can of diet pepsi in yours – he can’t help but smile as he stares at it, you looked so happy.

The date was written under the picture, with a pink sharpie: May 7th 1985.

He places the picture down, reaching for the next one.

This one doesn’t have you on it, only your sister, with a black cat on her lap – Luna, the cat’s name was Luna, he overheard you talking about her to Max. And your sister, he doesn’t remember her actual name, only the nickname you called her when she came to see you at the hospital; Twinkie. He almost laughed at that, the first time he heard it.

The next one is one of you and your dad at the beach, he recognizes him from the picture in the hallway. Both of you were holding surfboards. Your eyes shone with happiness, a bright grin on your face, your dad’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder. In this picture, you looked even happier than in the one from last year. – This one was taken in the summer of 1981, you were only fourteen.

He flinches a little when you place a soda can in front of him, “here, I found some coke in the fridge, figured you’d prefer that.”

He raises his brows and then looks at the pepsi you’re holding in your hand.

“Oh, thanks,” he mumbles, trying to smile.

You nod at him as you sit down beside him, looking at the picture that he’s holding.

“We spent the summer in California, my parents had a summer house in Monterey.”

“Had?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper as sadness takes over your features, a sadness he hadn’t seen before. It’s not the kind that he had seen last night. It’s one that reminds him of grief, like the one on Max’s face when she mentions Billy.

Oh no.

“My sister sold it last year, I asked her not to but.. for some reason that house gave her more painful memories than this one,” you say as you gesture to the room you sit in, you lean forward, placing your drink on the table as you reach for a picture in the box, “that was.. that was two weeks before they uh.. got into an accident.”

You hand him a picture but he can’t look at it yet, too busy staring at you and at the way you try to hide the tears in your eyes.

Steve’s heart aches in his chest, the guilt eating at him like never before.

“I-I’m so sorry, Blondie,” he whispers as he slowly looks down at the picture, at your parents who both smiled into the camera. That one was also taken in the summer of 1981.

Steve started to feel a little sick as the seconds went by, at each picture that he looked at.

“Twinkie and I took the flight back with our grandparents, we wanted to spend one more week with them in Indianapolis before going back to Hawkins, we didn’t know that this would be the last time we’d ever see them.”

His heart no longer aches at your words, it breaks for you. He didn’t know this, he never knew anything about you. You lost your parents when you were so young, right before your first year in high school.

Now he understands why you had always looked so.. lost.

Why you had been so rude and unapproachable. You pushed people away while you were grieving, you didn’t want anyone to see.

He doesn’t know what to say, no words will give you the comfort that you still clearly need.

“I-I never knew.”

You chuckle as you look at him, still blinking away those tears, “I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not when it just happened.”

“Why not?”

“I’d forever be the girl that lost her parents, and honestly, I’d rather have the whole school hate me than give me pitiful looks.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, shaking his head at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, running his fingers through his messy hair after he puts the picture down, “you’re just so… I don’t know, it’s just.. classic you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not with anger in your voice but with curiosity.

“Well, you’d rather have the whole world hate you than let them see you vulnerable.”

You shake your head at him and his eyes meet yours as he turns back. There is that look in your eyes, the one that reminds him that he doesn’t know anything about you.

“I let some see.”

Right. Some.

He nods and looks away.

He’s surely not one of those that you let see.

When he reaches for the next picture, he freezes, staring at the two little girls with wide eyes. It’s not hard to figure out who the one next to you is. Strawberry blonde hair, the two front teeth way too big for the small face, she was wearing a cheerleader costume – not knowing that she would’ve become cheer captain years later. Chrissy Cunningham.

The girl next to you was Chrissy, you were hugging each other from the side, giggling.

He looks at you, you were wearing a fairy costume, green and pink colors on the dress, and your smile was big. You looked happy.

He shakes his head a little, not understanding what he sees in front of him.

He had never seen you and Chrissy around each other, not even once. In fact, he rarely ever saw you around anyone for that matter. Sometimes he saw you talking to Jonathan, something that gave him more of a reason to dislike you back then, he’d throw the word ‘freaks’ at the two of you whenever he passed by you. The memories of that fill him with guilt and regret, he always wishes that he could turn back time and change things, change the way he acted.

But he never ever saw you even talking to Chrissy.

He slowly turns to face you, holding up the polaroid, “y-you and Chrissy knew each other?”

You only glance at the picture before you look down, “yeah, we were childhood best friends, we grew apart but… we still kept in touch. She’d stay over sometimes.” you explain, not meeting his eyes.

You lost your parents. You lost a friend.

His words from last night echo in his mind and the guilt crashes over him, harder than before.

No words appear before him, what can he say that will make you feel better in the slightest? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.

That’s what Max had told him. Now he understands. Even more so, when a different picture catches his eye, one that shocks him even more than the previous one.

Only this time, he doesn’t just freeze, he feels a shiver running down his spine and his chest feels weird, all of a sudden. Because the guy in the picture isn’t someone he ever expected you around with.

He takes it, between his thumb and his forefinger, bringing it closer with a shaky hand. He blinks, like he can’t believe what he is seeing, but it’s real, it’s so very real. No amount of blinking will transform the guy into someone else. It’s unmistakably Billy Hargrove in your collection of polaroids, a collection that reminds you of the people you loved. The box of memories that is frozen in time.

Billy is sitting on the hood of his car, a cigarette held between his fingers as he snickered at the camera. It was taken back in 1984.

You were friends with Billy Hargrove?

He can’t even utter a single word, just reaching for the next picture which is just another one of him.

Billy was lying on the grass, probably in your backyard, his eyes were barely open but he was smiling into the camera, with a thumbs up in the air. It’s clear that he was drunk when you took that picture.

He feels your eyes on him, he notices you shifting on the couch as you lean back, still looking at him. He doesn’t turn to face you, not yet. Too curious to find more pictures of Billy, he doesn’t expect the next ones to be more intimate than the ones before.

He stares at the one of you first, it looks as though you have cried, but you are smiling, and the only thing that covered your body was a blanket, while pushing the camera out of your face.

And for a moment, Steve can’t help but think how beautiful you look in this picture with your hair all messy, your exposed skin looking so soft and glowy beneath dim lights, and a smile so content.

But the picture of Billy makes him frown. He was sitting on your bed, shirtless and with a cigarette between his lips, his eyes were red but he was smiling just like you were.

It’s obvious what happened before these pictures were taken and he can’t shake the weird feeling in his gut, the longer he looks at them.

Were you and Billy dating?

Is that why you have been so miserable since last summer? Because he was just another name on the list of people you have lost?

As though you can read his mind, you lean closer to him, reaching for the first picture you ever took of him, the one where he sits on the hood of his car.

“I ran into Billy at Big Buy’s, well, behind the building. He was smoking a cigarette and he was crying. I hadn’t seen him before, it was the weekend before school started again. I approached him and he obviously tried to scare me off, but… fucker didn’t know who he was talking to,” you chuckle. “He was being rude, like really rude, calling me names and trying to get me to leave, I stepped on his foot and he yelped, literally yelped. I left after that but uh, after that, we just started pestering each other at school and then one day, he showed up here, with a bleeding nose and a busted lip, he didn’t know where else to go.”

Steve watches you, the way your eyes are filled with sadness as you look at the pictures in front of you.

“It took him a while but eventually, he opened up to me, about his dad and everything.”

He knows about Billy’s dad, about the abuse, the emotional and physical abuse. Max told him all about it.

“So uh, then that happened,” you murmur, awkwardly, not meeting his eyes as you point to the pictures of the two of you only covered by the sheets.

“Were you two dating?” He asks, and somehow he feels a knot in his stomach at that question.

You scrunch your face up at his words, almost in a way that makes him laugh. You shake your head at him.

“Fuck no. We weren’t even attracted to each other. I just, at that point we were close and I trusted him so uh.. I just wanted to do it with someone that I felt comfortable with and uh, the beer helped too, I guess,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

Steve turns away from you, biting the insides of his cheeks, the knot slowly undoing itself in his belly.

“We never mentioned it again after this, it wasn’t awkward or anything, we were just.. best friends.”

There is no bitterness in your voice, he notices. You had no feelings for Billy and that for some reason, and that for some reason makes his shoulders relax.

He looks back at you when he feels your eyes on him, your smile has fallen.

“He came to my house… you know.. after he beat you up and he was drugged by Max.”

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips.

“What?”

“I told him that it was wrong, what he did, that you did the right thing, that I told him time and time to lay off Max. Damn, I even slapped him across his head when he broke her skateboard.”

His eyes soften, and his lip twitches.

“I-I was doing the right thing?”

“You protected Lucas. When I found out how he was treating him I got so mad at him, we got into a fight and I didn’t talk to him for days. I just hated what he did to him and to Max,” you mumble, breaking eye contact when the look in his eyes gets a little too intense for you. You also didn’t like what Billy did to Steve, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Billy he was.. driven by his father’s words and actions. The abuse turned him into that. He was vulnerable with me, but– the anger was still inside of him… bright red.”

As Steve looks back at the pictures, he realizes that he had never seen Billy like this, happy, smiling. He almost looks like a different person. Regret floods through him, he can’t help but wish that he would’ve gotten to know this side of Billy, the one that you knew, maybe things would’ve gone differently if he did, maybe Max wouldn’t have lost her brother.

“I never saw Hargrove like this.”

“No one did,” you shrug, “only me, sometimes Max. I-I tried to change him and his dumb views but Billy was just.. stubborn and angry.” You shake your head, blinking away the tears that welled up in your eyes, you close them and tilt your head down. “A-And then he pushed me away when he.. when he was possessed.”

Steve notices the way your voice got so much more shaky than before, how you seem to be on the verge of tears.

“Max,” he whispers, now understanding why or who the reason was for your friendship.

“Yeah… Max. We received letters, well, notes from Billy,” you mumble.

He watches how you bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the tears with the sleeves before you reach for something in the box, a folded piece of paper that you hand to him.

“He told me to stay away in mine, all messy, but he said that he didn’t hate me, that he could never..”

Steve doesn’t open the note, your words are enough, he doesn’t want to intrude more than he already did, he understands this enough. Billy pushed you away to keep you safe, and he did it with cruel words to keep you away, because he knew that that would work with you.

Steve is at a loss for words.

“And Max, he called her his sister in hers. She didn’t read the note until a few weeks later though.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and it all clicks in his head.

Why Max had been suffering as much as she did in those months after Billy’s death, why she seemed more depressed than ever when the summer was over.

“Is that why you are so close with her? … For Billy?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding. “She’s like a sister to me, I’d do anything for her.”

And you did. You did and you almost gave your life protecting her.

“And I almost lost her too.”

Just like everyone else you loved and cared about.

Steve’s words did more damage than he thought they did, and they echo in his mind, over and over again.

Don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did.

The nausea that fills him almost overwhelms him, it almost knocks the breath out of him. He swallows harshly, and he starts to put the polaroids back into the box, blinking as he looks at each and every one of them again.

His eyes linger on the one of you smiling, the one from the year before. When you found your happiness again when a new friend had stepped into your life.

Steve couldn’t stand Billy Hargrove, he really couldn’t stand him, but his death was cruel and even he didn’t deserve what happened to him and you didn’t deserve to lose another person you cared about.

You lost. You lost people, you lost family, you lost friends and you lost your spark, your happiness. And now he understands why you are the way that you are. Why you keep pushing everyone away, you’re scared to lose again, scared to get too close to someone only to watch them being taken away from you.

As he stares at your smile, he can’t help but frown at the picture in his hand because he will never get to see this. He will never see you like this with him and in this moment, he can’t help but envy those who will.

“You are right.” His voice sounds small, filled with regret, filled with sadness and hurt.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know what loss is. I– shit. I don’t know if I could have handled it like you did.”

You feel your eyes burning at his words and before you can even try to blink your tears away, one falls from your eye.

Steve’s eyes soften when he hears your sniffle, he watches the tear roll down your cheek. He moves without thinking, raising his hand up to your face, he catches the tear with his thumb.

You freeze and your lips part in surprise, his touch giving you butterflies despite what happened yesterday.

His touch feels so foreign on your skin, yet comforting and warm, like something that you have been craving and longing for since always. You slowly turn to face him and only then, does he realize what he did.

His cheeks flush red and his eyes fill with embarrassment, he clears his throat and pulls his hand away from your face, not knowing that this makes you feel empty again.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, apologizing to him, for the first time. “Knowing that they’re alive yet still deciding to leave you behind.. that’s not easy either.”

He appreciates your words and his lip twitches, he shrugs, trying to play it off – The pain he always endured by himself and never voiced out, and he won’t start doing it now. It’s done with.

“I have the kids and Robin.”

“Right,” you whisper as you push yourself up, unable to sit here with him any longer, you reach for the box, ignoring the confused look that he gives you, “they take care of you.”

He noticed the sarcastic tone at that last phrase, but he nodded either way.

“Okay uh, time to go, Lego head. I need a shower.”

This time, he can’t help but smile at the nickname.

“Okay, Blondie.”

You lead him back out into the hallway, avoiding the hazel eyes that fill your heart with nothing but sadness and longing.

You feel your heart pounding, your eyes still burning as you feel yourself nearing the edge of yet another breakdown this day.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, taking a hold of your arm he pulls you back so he can see your face again.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes show him so much and now he can’t help but wonder if these emotions have always been there and he was just too blind to see them or if you only showed them now.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” he whispers.

Your lips twitch, though not into a smile.

“Me too, Steve.”

He keeps holding your arm, ignoring the wish to hold you instead.

“Are we.. good?”

His question makes you laugh and you squint your eyes.

“When have we ever been good?”

He rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but smile. He brings his left hand up, running his fingers through his messy hair.

There is that look in his eyes, the one that shows you that he is thinking about something, deeply.

“Do I still call you Blondie…?” He asks as he realizes that he had always called you by a name that must have taken you back to a time where you had felt the saddest, the loneliest. You were fifteen when you had bleached your hair and tried out new styles, all the time. He never knew that it was something that you needed to do, to distract yourself from the grief. You had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to be with. You only had that – box dye, makeup and new clothes every week.

Oh.

You swallow the lump in your throat, digging your nails into your palm. He knows.

“I would be mad if you didn’t. It’s weird when you say my name, Harrington.”

He chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“Yeah yeah, Blondie, keep acting like you don’t like it.”

You smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see it.”

“I guess we’re still Lego head and Blondie then, huh?” He asks, snorting.

“Always.”

He licks his lips, nodding.

“Always,” he chuckles as he lets go of you and walks towards the door, he opens it, but he doesn’t step out, right away. He looks back at you, one more time, “you know, I didn’t mean a single thing that I said to you, last night. And I’ll do anything for you to believe me. B-But, I think that you’re amazing and the people that had the chance to get to know you… the real you were really fucking lucky.”

He leaves you with those words, closes the door and walks away from you.

And you stare at the front door for what feels like forever before you finally break into tears. You were pushing away your pain and your sadness but the fight from last night, his presence and his words have made it all so much worse again.

You bury your face in your hands as you sit down on the stairs, letting tears fall that you haven’t felt in ages but instead of relief, you feel frustration running through you. You didn’t miss this, you didn’t miss this for a single second.

There is a knock on the front door and it fills you with annoyance when you expect it to be Steve again.

Wiping your tears with anger, you rip open the door, expecting to see him again but instead it’s Max on your doorstep. Max and Eddie.

You blink, looking between them, back and forth.

Max’s blue eyes fill with worry as she looks into your glassy eyes.

Eddie smiles at you, despite matching the look in her eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t let me come in yesterday so I assumed that if I brought Red here you would let us in,” he says, still smiling cheekily. “We brought movies and got your favorite snacks,” he points to Max’s backpack.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the kind smile on his face, of the guy that has been trying desperately to be your friend, makes you want to continue crying. You don’t know how, but you keep your tears at bay.

You know that they can see that you were crying, but it brings you comfort to know that neither of them will push you to talk about anything.

“Hey guys,” you try to put on your best smile as you greet them, you step aside without another word.

Eddie’s smile widens, he bumps his shoulder into Max.

“Hey,” she smiles, still eying you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, placing your hand on her shoulder, “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t push you to talk, she doesn’t ask any more questions either. She just walks straight into the living room.

“She feels at home, huh?” Eddie chuckles.

“It’s basically her second home so yeah,” you laugh.

His brown eyes take you in, his lips twitch but his smile doesn’t fall. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t speak up.

You both follow Max into the living room, expecting her to be unpacking the snacks but instead she stands there frozen in place as she stares at the box of polaroids.

Your eyes widen and in panic, you rush over to the coffee table, wanting to close the box.

“S-Shit, I’m sorry–”

“No!” She grabs your hand before you reach for the lid. “I-It’s okay, I’m okay. A-Are you though?” She asks as she looks away from the pictures of Billy.

Eddie looks between you two, furrowing his brows as he takes a step closer. He looks into the box and his eyes widen instantly.

“Holy shit, is that–”

“Eddie don’t,” Max warns him.

You shake your head, “no.. no, it’s okay, Max.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at Max or you, he is staring at the picture of her brother, in shock.

“I-I promise, it’s okay,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel your heart starting to pound again, “I just.. I need some fresh air, I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room, rushing out of the house. You sit down on the porch steps, taking a deep breath. The earthy smell that lingers after the rain comforts you a little.

You knew you wouldn’t get more than a minute to yourself, because only moments later, the door opens. You know that it’s Eddie, you hear the flick of his lighter, and seconds later, the smell of smoke fills the air, mixing with the smell of the after rain.

You hear his footsteps and then he sits down next to you. Without a word, he offers you the cigarette. You take it, placing it between your lips, you take a drag and blow out the smoke.

Eddie doesn’t talk, he just wants you to know that he is here because he wants to be, he wants to be your friend but you don’t want to lose him too.

“I lost a lot of people I cared about, Eddie.. Every single one of them, my parents, Chrissy, Billy.. I almost lost Max and you too,” You trail off, taking another drag before you hand him back the cigarette. “And I can’t lose any more people, Eds.”

He stares at you with his big sad eyes that you can’t bring yourself to look into for longer than two seconds.

“I feel like I’m fucking cursed or something. Everything that I touch immediately rots. That’s why I just.. I keep pushing you away because I already lost a best friend.. so just please.”

He sees the way you’re blinking, the way your hands are shaking just like your voice is. He knows what you’re asking of him and he only shakes his head in response, moving closer to you as he feels his own eyes burning.

You’re his friend, a friend that he doesn’t want to lose either.

“Nah.. It will take a whole swarm of demobats to rip me away from you. And even then, hey, I will still survive, already did once,” he tries to crack a joke but only makes you tear up even more.

You finally turn to face him, looking into the kind eyes of your friend before your eyes move down to his neck, to the bandaid that covers his scar.

“But–”

“No buts. You are not cursed. You are not responsible for anything that happened to those people. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to love, Darling. Let yourself do it,” he says, smiling as he throws his cigarette on the pavement before he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer, “and stop pushing me away, please.”

Your bottom lip trembles and the tears flow like a waterfall, you stop fighting it, you stop fighting him and you let him pull you into his arms, closing your eyes as you lay your head on his chest, letting yourself fall into the hug that you so desperately need.

“Let it out, sweets.”

The soothing tone in his voice makes you cry even harder, your tears seep through his shirt but he doesn’t mind, he rubs your back and holds you. Your heart is crying, your brain is banging, your breaths are cut short thanks to your sobs, but it’s something you needed. And even through all of that, you are feeling so relieved, so light at each sob that rips out of your throat.

And when you feel Max’s hand in yours, her head on your shoulder as Eddie still holds you, you know that everything will be okay, that you will be okay. You might not need anything else for now… these two people right here are making you feel fuller than you ever felt in the past year.

You won’t lose them.

You won’t have to live without them.

They will be more than just a short time.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals:

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @sherrylyn628 @livosssblog

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

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lucyandalexiafan · 2 months

Text

Need to be praised | Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x reader

Summary: after winning the most important home match of the Liga, the Clasico, it is even more clear how Alexia needs to feel loved, praised. You and Jenni plan a different evening than usual, hoping to help her.

Warnings: smut and light angst. dom!Jenni, sub!reader, sub!Alexia, oral sex, chocking on a strap, punishment (belt), safewords, daddy kink, use of pet names / slut, dirty talk, light degradation, praise.

Words: 6.6k

You enter your house, the sound of the door closing behind you.

There is silence.

Ale had fallen asleep in the back seat of the car as soon as you got into it.

The trip had been short, with some indie songs in the background.

Jenni’s hand had caressed your thigh the whole trip.

You were exhausted. You were coming back home after the umpteenth match, another match a few days after the last one. And it wasn't a normal match, it was the Clasico, the most important home game of the Liga with a sold-out stadium.

Alexia had felt the brunt of the responsibilities the most, being captain had made everything more complex, heavier.

Many, too many, responsibilities.

Moreover, there was that complex she had.

That one of no longer good enough.

Strong enough.

Talented enough.

Aitana had won everything possible.

Ale was happy for her, obviously, she had seen her grow up in Barça's youth team, she had taught her everything she could; but that doesn't mean something inside her wasn't burning, consuming her.

It wasn't envy, it was anger.

It was disappointment.

It was resentment.

Not to Tana, but to her knee.

Grudge over her ACL.

Hate for her knee, for the constant injuries she has.

And ever since Tana won the Ballon d’Or, the funny, smiling, Ale had faded away. It wasn't easy to see, to notice this constant state of pain, she was really good at hiding it. But you could tell she was tired, that she couldn't take all the pressure anymore.

She tended to vent this anxiety, this pressure, this anger, with sex, rough sex where her need for control could come out. But, because you were having so many matches and only a few days off, you couldn't, she couldn't, dedicate to yourself the time necessary to enter that necessary headspace, to even think about it.

And Ale was increasingly needy, but it was not a need to be in charge, to be the dominant one. Jenni and you talked about it two nights ago, when the blonde was at yet another technical meeting with the staff and you two were having dinner at home. She had asked you if you two could take care of Ale, to change your roles in bed for once; Jenni had pointed out that Ale really needed to receive compliments, to be told that she was good.

That she was enough.

To feel loved.

To feel appreciated.

You weren't familiar with this, much more comfortable being the good submissive, but she was right.

You take Ale's hand and pull it towards you.

You gently place your lips on hers.

You feel her relax at the contact.

Her lips are soft, sweet.

Your hand is threading through her hair, massaging her scalp.

She gasps at the contact.

“Amor, we would like to suggest something to you”

Jenni's voice interrupts your kiss.

It is low, horny.

Ale turns towards the older woman, your arms wrapping around her body.

You are in the middle of the hall.

Jenni is leaning against the kitchen doorframe, her gaze fixed on Alexia.

Sweet eyes, a barely visible smile.

You leave kisses on the Catalan's shoulder, as if to reassure her.

“We would like to take care of you, amor – she tells her as she approaches the blonde – to make you understand how perfect you are, to prove it to you”

Ale opens her eyes wide, her body tensing beneath your arms.

“You don't have to say yes if you don't want to - you add as soon as you realize how tense she is - But we thought that this could be the better moment, because we will have the next three days free"

She nods surprisingly quickly.

“I want it, please”

You stop the kisses.

Alexia always hated giving up control, always fighting also Jenni before letting it to her.

You glance at Jenni, the older woman smiles lovingly at the blonde.

“Already so good amor, my good girl” she tells her before placing her lips on the blonde’s ones.

The kiss is loving.

Romantic.

Slow.

Nothing to do with their usual kisses, the rough, passionate ones.

There is no struggle for control.

For being the one in charge.

For power.

Ale leaves to the raven the chance to direct it.

“Why don't you both go lie down in bed? I want you both naked"

You nod, taking Ale's hand, and then heading towards your room.

You take off her shirt slowly, helping her slide it over her arms, leaving chaste kisses on her chest here and there.

She moans, her hands in your hair.

Your hands grip the button on her jeans while you look at her asking for permission and, when she nods, you remove it from the buttonhole.

You push them towards her ankles and she kicks them away, leaving her only in underwear.

You quickly take off Jenni's hoodie and peel off your sweatpants.

You push her towards her bed, asking her to lie on her back, Alexia complies without responding.

A sense of tenderness invades you at the thought of how much she needs reassurance.

She lies down, head against the pillows, and you kiss her neck, the collarbones, leaving few marks along the line of the bone.

“You are so perfect Ale," you whisper before licking the skin between her breasts "So beautiful.”

She gasps, the grip on your hair harder.

“We will take care of you, you know that?" you kiss her abdomen, your lips in contact with every muscle, "You won't have to think about anything.”

She moans desperately.

“Please," she whispers, absorbed, "I beg you.”

“You are so needy, mh?”

“Yes, I need you so much,” she replies lost.

The low voice, a whisper.

Arms outstretched.

You touch the elastic of her panties with your lips.

She sighs.

"I beg you."

You slowly remove them, kissing her thighs and ankles as you go.

You observe her. The eyes are closed, her head tilted back, the lips parted while she sight, the back arched, her panting makes her chest rise maniacally.

She had never begged you.

Never.

“We have to wait for Jenni, amor," you whisper in amusement when she tries to push your head between her thighs, "Are you such a needy thing, aren't you?”

The obvious hesitation in your voice.

You don't know how far you can go.

How much can you point out that she is not in charge.

You're not even sure you know how to praise her.

She nods.

“Can you kiss me?”

The voice almost scared.

Hesitant.

Needy.

You push yourself towards her face.

You kiss her lips, the grip on your heart increases.

How insecure is she?

“Amor, I thought I said you should both be naked,” Jenni's voice fills the room.

You pant against the blonde's lips.

You kneel on the bed, your knees resting on the mattress on the side of Ale's hips.

You undo your bra, sliding it off your arms.

The captain moans beneath you, her hands squeezing your thighs, the grip almost painful.

“Take off your panties, amor, before I have to punish you – despite the loving voice, the note of dominance evident – This night is just for Alexia, isn't it?”

You nod quickly, scared of ruining everything.

To shift attention from Ale.

To stop you from taking care of her.

You stand at the foot of the bed, facing Jenni, and quickly take off your panties, letting them fall to your feet, then kicking them to your right.

You look at the floor, your head bowed, not having the courage to look the Madrilenian in her eyes.

The attention must be on Ale, but you don't know how to behave.

What to do.

What not to do.

Her feet enter your field of vision and you close your eyes when you see a hand move towards you.

She rests it on your cheek.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily, cheeks burning for the embarrassment.

Ale moans openly behind you.

“It's okay amor,” she whispers before forcing your chin up, obligating you to look into her eyes “Ale is so beautiful that she’s distracting, it's normal that you've lost all sense of the rules. But don't do it again, or I'll punish you, okay?”

You nod.

“Yes daddy, I'm sorry.”

She smiles before kissing you.

It's not the sweet kiss she gave the blonde.

It's passionate.

Rough.

Her teeth bite your lip.

It's her way of showing off dominance.

To show that she is in control.

“Now I'll tell you what we'll do, okay?”

Her voice betraying not just horniness, but impatience.

Jenni loves to dominate and she loves having any form of control in bed.

“I will sit on this chair and you will put on a good show for me following my instructions, okay?”

“Yes,” you both answer in unison.

The response speed is almost astonishing.

The raven grabs your hair forcefully.

"What's my name?"

“Daddy,” you gasp in pain from the grip, "I'm sorry daddy.”

You bite your lips looking into her eyes, which are tainted by sadism. This version of Ale, this so submissive Ale, has to make her really horny.

Then, while she looks you strictly in the eyes, a grin appears on her face.

“What are your safewords?” she asks you.

“Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop,” you respond.

She nods.

“Are these safewords okay for you, Alexia?”

She replies with a whispered, shy, “Yes, Jenni.”

“Can you tell me what we always say about using safewords, amor?”

“Which… that should be used if I need it,” she sighs hesitantly.

The Madrilenian smiles.

“Good girl,” she praises.

Ale and you moan in unison.

“Alexia, sit against the headboard with legs wide open - you feel Ale move, while Jenni's grip on your hair hardens - You get on your hands and knees, your back arched, your head between Alexia's legs,” Jenni directs.

She lets go of your hair, opening her hand.

She takes a step back, as if to give you enough space to do what she asked.

You look at her, lips wide open.

Does she want to punish you?

She tilts her face to the side, as if to warn you and exhort you to follow.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” you whisper guiltily before turning towards the bed.

Are you already shifting the attention from Ale to you?

You can't look at the blonde because of the embarrassment of being naked, bent over like this, waiting for punishment.

Ale moans, her hands gripping tighten the sheet beneath her.

You rest your knees on the bed between her legs, and arch your back, shoulders brushing her thighs.

Your hands are on her thighs.

“Hands behind your back,” she commands.

You do it and try to adapt better to the position, to find a balance which in reality always turns out to be precarious.

You hear footsteps behind you, and from the way Alexia's body tenses you could swear Jenni is selecting items from the drawer.

You pant in anticipation.

A knot in your abdomen.

The smell of Alexia invades your nostrils.

You squeeze your thighs.

“Now I'll tell you how things will go,” she announces in an authoritarian tone. “Cariño, you broke the rules, so I'll spank you - her steps stop - And Alexia will decide how and how many times because she was a good girl, and good girls should be rewarded,” Jenni declares.

You moan without restraint, and the blonde does the same.

“You can decide everything, amor, how many blows, with what, if she should be tied up… everything. Because if you are good girls you can choose,” she tells her.

You bite the sheets, hands clasping together.

The nails in your palms.

Your pussy contracts around nothing, arousal starting to wet your thighs too.

“I... the belt - you widen your eyes at Ale's response - is it okay?” she asks Jenni hesitantly.

You close your eyes at the idea of the belt.

Ale loves to use it to punish you, she prefers it to any other object or the hands, while Jenni prefers hands, she says she loves the feeling of your body twitching under her touch. But when Jenni uses the belt to punish you, those few times, she does it harshly, while Ale is kinder, the blows she gives are softer, she loves to see how you jump when the belt comes into contact with the butt, not so much causing you strong pain.

“Of course, whatever you want, pretty girl,” Jenni concedes.

You groan, realizing how things are going to go.

You'll be their little toy, as always, but the dynamic is different. Jenni wanted this, she wanted you to disobey, so she could allow Ale to choose, to be in charge, praising her for every decision made under her guidance.

“How many times?”

“Ten,” the Catalan replies surprisingly confidently.

Jenni chuckles.

“You like when I punish our slut with the belt, don't you?”

“Yes, I like it,” Ale admits.

Her hands are now in your hair, and you gasp at the unexpected hold.

“Why, pretty girl?”

“Because of the noise that the belt makes when it hit her butt, because it leaves marks, because then she is always soaking wet”.

“Do you know why she is always wet?” Jenni replies to her as if you were not among them. “Because she is such a slut for us, for you.”

Ale and you gasp at the same time.

The humiliation, the degradation, which clashes with the sweet tone used with Ale.

The grip on your hair tightens, the nails penetrate the scalp.

“Please,” you whisper, not knowing whether to Ale or Jenni.

“So eager to be punished for us,” she muses.

You arch your back even more.

You hear a metallic noise, it's the buckle that makes the belt, and your body tenses in reaction.

“Do you want her tied up?”

“No - Ale replies - If-if she moves her hands-“

“Will there be more blows?”

You close your eyes at the idea.

They know that you don't know how to stay still when they punish you, that you need to be tied up if they want you not to move.

"No. Denial,” Ale pants, unable to explain herself better.

“As you wish, pretty girl.”

You clench your jaws, the opposition between the praise for Ale and the humiliation towards you is aphrodisiac, but your body is so tense that you know that the impact of the belt will be even more painful.

“Jenni, can I touch myself?”

You widen your eyes at Ale's request.

Ale doesn't ask permission to touch herself.

Ale touches herself, maybe she is then punished by Jenni, but Ale doesn't ask permission to do it. It is one of the most bratty behaviors that the blonde uses against the older woman.

The request probably also leaves Jenni dumbfounded, who is slow to respond.

“Please, I'll be good, I won't come without your permission.”

You moan.

You had never seen Ale so submissive, so in need of praise, to be good for Jenni.

“You can touch yourself, amor, but with this,” she says as you hear her walking. “And you can't come without my permission.”

Her hands leave your hair.

You try to look at her.

She leans over your body while Jenni gives her something, an object, that you recognize as a vibrator when you hear the sound of a vibration.

One of her hands comes to rest between her legs, the vibrator against her clit, the other one on her breast, starting to play with a nipple.

Then, the first blow hits your butt.

You scream in surprise, at the pain.

The body that tenses, moves towards Alexia's thighs.

“One, daddy, thank you,” you reply automatically like every time you get punished.

You hear her grinning.

Then another shot.

You groan.

“Two, daddy, thank you.”

The pain already starting to invade you and she continues to hit you with this force for the next five blows.

Alexia's moans invade the air.

“Can I… a finger,” she gasps, her thoughts disarranged.

“Yes amor, you can. Fuck yourself for me”

Ale moans, a grating moan, then you see her stick a finger inside herself.

You bite the sheet and, before you understand what you are doing, you place your hands on the mattress.

"You're such a slut who always wants to be the center of attention," the raven girl says angrily behind you "This was supposed to be Ale's night, but not only did you get to be punished, but you broke another time the rules"

You gasp, closing your eyes in humiliation, and try to fix your situation by repositioning your hands on your back, in the position you were supposed to hold. You hope it's enough, but you know it's not.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily.

“Mm, really?” the teasing tone, the hands squeezing your ass between your fingers. "you're such an exhibitionist slut that I might think you were putting on a show for Alexia. Do you like it, pretty girl?”

Her hands are on your ass, squeezing the flesh, on the places where bruises will probably show up, and you groan in pain.

“Yes Jenni, so much.”

You gasp.

Usually, the dynamic is inverse. You're the good one, the one who gets praised, Ale is the one who breaks the rules on purpose to annoy Jenni.

The blonde's moans are getting closer and closer together, the hand that moves fastest inside her and she plays with the vibrator against her clit.

“Do you want to come, pretty girl?”

She pants, she begs her.

A blow, hard, impacts your ass.

You move forward, your body contracted by pain.

It hurts more than all the others, and is the same for the other two. You gasp, tears in your eyes.

“Can I come, Jenni? Please, I was good for you”

“Come for me, love,” Jenni's voice surprisingly gentle. "come for me, my perfect girl.”

Alexia comes screaming, her body shaking around you as she lives it to the end. she then turns off the vibrator, dropping it absentmindedly to her side.

"Jenni" you moan, your voice unsure, trembling, without really know what you want.

The pain pervades your body, your hands grab the sheet, clenching it between fists. You know you're breaking the rules again, but you need to touch something, to grip something, in an attempt to alleviate that pain.

You know it's Alexia's night, that you're there for her, that she needs to be praised, but you're not sure if this is the direction you want the night to take. The way she had squeezed your cheeks between her hands suggests how the evening could take a more sadistic turn, and less caring, and you're not sure if you want that.

The idea of being their toy makes you horny, the idea of being used turns you on, but you need to be praised too, to be told that you're good too.

You hear Ale's breathing calm down, Jenni bending over your body to kiss her. You lift your head, watching from below as their lips collide, as the blonde's hands end up in her hair, and as the raven grins against her.

You bite your lip, not knowing if you want to interrupt the moment or if it's better to let it continue.

"My pretty girl," the Madrilenian whispers as she moves away from Alexia, standing up again at the foot of the bed, "My two good girls," she says, her hand touching your back rubbing her nails lightly on it.

You gasp, the praise finally arrived, the kind lovely contact.

Your thighs clench in response.

"Amor, can you lie on your back?"

You do as she asked, without talking back, your skin burning at the contact with the fabric of the sheet, your hesitant hands ending up on Ale's shins, your gaze avoiding the one of the older woman.

"You're forgiven, amor," Jenni whispers before kneeling on the bed, her knees to the sides of your hips, "My good girl."

Then, finally, she kisses you. A slow, loving kiss and your hesitant hands draw her to you, seeking comfort. One of her hands lands on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your skin, the other on Alexia's thigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly once she moves away from your lips, her gaze trained on yours, her eyes sweet, a shy smile shapes her face.

"Yes daddy - you answer, your voice still trembling - Another kiss?"

The blonde moans at the sight of you two, between her legs, kissing.

Jenni takes her time to kiss you, her tongue licking your lower lip, her teeth nibbling your lips, then kissing the skin of your jaw, your neck.

She sucks a portion of skin above your collarbone, leaving you a dark red hickey, and you move your hands through her hair, your legs now bent on themselves tightening her body to you.

She grins, then bites the skin of your chest multiple times, leaving various marks next to the first.

"Daddy," you gasp again.

"What, little one?" she asks, her face now reclined towards you, her black eyes staring into yours.

You blush under her gaze.

"Please daddy touch me."

She licks her lower lip, then returns to kiss your chest, moving towards your breast. She bites your right nipple, one hand gripping the left between her fingers.

You arch your back towards her, your head brushing against the inner thigh of Alexia; and that's how two fingers of one hand of the blonde, that were gripping her thighs, end up against your mouth. She pushes them beyond your lips, against your tongue, and you gasp surprised at the intrusion. You tilt your head towards her, giving her more access to your mouth, and try to lick them.

You look into her eyes as she moves her fingers inside up to the last knuckle, thus reaching the back of your throat and making you gag.

Jenni, hearing the noise, stops kissing you.

You feel her observing you, and you have confirmation when Ale shifts her gaze from you to above you.

She smiles shyly.

The brunette gets up on her knees, moves them towards Ale, crawling on the bed, then kisses her again.

You moan at the lack of contact, at the cold hitting the saliva she left on your chest.

The blonde's fingers stop, entirely inside your mouth, the moment the older one's lips land on hers.

"Keep moving them," Jenni orders, and she does, moving them faster, "Like that, good girl, fuck her mouth."

You gasp, almost choking, when they hit the back of your throat rhythmically. You squeeze the raven's thighs with your hands as you push yourself a little further toward the end of the bed, seeking a more comfortable position.

"Do you want to fuck her mouth with the strap-on, pretty girl?" the brunette asks her.

Your eyes widen at the idea.

"Yes-yes Jenni, please."

Jenni leans in one last time, kissing her lips softly, then gets up from the bed again. You hear her walks back towards the cabinet and open the drawer; Ale's hand, wet from your saliva, is now resting against your cheek, the thumb caressing your skin.

You turn your head, your cheek against the mattress, and then absentmindedly kiss her inner thigh with your lips open, knowing how sensitive that part of her body is. And sure enough, she moans and you feel her other hand move from her thigh to your hair, squeezing it.

“So beautiful,” Jenni murmurs so softly that you almost don't hear her "My perfect girls".

You hear her walking to the side of the bed, and then sitting next to Ale.

You see her kiss her neck, and the blonde tilts her head back against the wall, giving her more space.

“Shall I help you put it on? - she asks, without really expecting an answer - Amor, lie on your stomach"

You roll onto your side, then onto your stomach, groaning at the feeling of the cold air against your cheeks.

You look at Jenni, she's still fully dressed, her shirt sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open, hair gathered in a low ponytail that leaves the shorter tufts free.

She helps the younger to wear the strap-on, her hands skimming Alexia's thighs, and you moan in anticipation.

“Move more towards Alexia - she orders when the blonde has finished preparing, her thighs even more open - Your head must be perfectly aligned with the strap-on. Exactly, like that, good girl” she praises you.

You moan, looking at her, but she's focusing on the blonde, her hand squeezing the woman's jaw, forcing her to look at her, then licking her bottom lip.

"Ready?"

The blonde nods and leans towards Jenni, her lips pressed carefully to hers, as if trying to figure out if the raven is okay with her resourcefulness. The older woman kisses her back, her hand on her cheek.

You moan, the pain between your legs growing more and more. The desire to touch yourself, to move your hand there and reach your orgasm, makes you squeeze the blonde's thighs tighter in an attempt not to do it, to be good for them.

“Alexia, you won't be able to touch her, I will decide the pace - Jenni's hand ends up in your hair, caressing it - Cariño, remember that if it's too much you have to tap Alexia's thigh three times and I will stop immediately, understand?”

You nod, your gaze fixed on the dildo. It's bigger than the one you normally use for oral sex, you bite your lip hesitantly.

“Words, not gestures” she warns you.

"Yes, daddy" the voice unsure, hesitant.

“I know you can take it all the way, be a good girl for me” Jenni urges you, her hand that applies enough pressure to push you to take it in your mouth.

You open your lips when the tip of the dildo touches them. Alexia moans in response, her hands gripping the sheet in an attempt not to touch you, not to break the rules.

The hand in your hair applies more pressure, pushing you to take more into your mouth. When you take about half of it into your mouth you moan, the choking sensation creeping in and you feel your hair being pulled upwards.

“Relax your throat, I want you to take it all in your mouth” you hear her order, and then apply pressure again.

You try to breathe through your nose, the saliva pouring out of your mouth uncontrollably as you take in more than half, the tip hitting your throat, making you squirm.

“Shhh, stay still - you close your eyes trying to calm your breathing and breathe through your nose, your hands gripping Alexia's thighs more tightly - Good girl. Now move on it, like this, yeah,” she instructs, pushing her hand up, relieving the pressure, and then applying it again.

You go on like this for a while, the blonde's moans are the only other sound besides what you make.

“Do you like seeing her choke on your cock, pretty girl?”

“Yes… yes Jenni” she replies quickly, her voice breathless.

You close your eyes when the hand puts more pressure on the back of your neck, pushing you to take even more into your mouth, until you come into contact with the harness. The tears wetting your cheeks.

The moan that comes out of Ale's mouth is so grating, so low, that you've never heard it before.

Then, Jenni's hand pushes you upwards, until you no longer have the dildo in your mouth.

You moan for air, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the strap-on.

“My good slut, so good at sucking cocks. We should just use you for this, right?” her thumbs clean your cheeks “making you my cock slut, used only for this, mh?”

You contract your thighs, rub them against each other, in an attempt to give yourself a minimum of pleasure.

“Now go back and suck it as the good slut I know you are, do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, then place your head back on top of the dildo.

Your lips surrounding it, her hand pushing you back down until you take more than half of it into your mouth. She leaves you like this for a second, and then begins to set a fast, frenetic pace.

You whine as you feel the blonde's thighs contracting rhythmically under your hands every time you lower your head.

“Jenni… Jenni, can I come? Please, I was so good”

“Come for me Ale” she orders while her hand pushes you to the base.

You choke on it, your saliva wetting her thighs as Jenni forces you to move rhythmically on it.

The base of the dildo that put pressure on her clit, her moans getting closer and closer.

“I’m coming… I’m-“

You feel her coming, her thighs contracting beneath you as you hear her scream, the madrilenian's hand continues to push you towards the base of the dildo, allowing her to fully ride out the orgasm.

“St-stop” Ale pants, and the hand quickly disappears from your hair.

You immediately pull away, moaning at the feeling of air in your lungs, saliva binding you to the fake cock, tears in your eyes. You cough a couple of times gasping for air.

“Look at me” the Madrilenian orders you and, when you do, her hand moves towards the saliva, wetting four fingers, and then spreading it on your cheeks.

“Our slut, so obedient. My cock slut”

She grins as you take a finger into your mouth, sucking it down to the base. Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by your boldness.

Alexia turns her head towards her, kisses her neck, sucks some portion of her skin.

“No marks, Alexia”

“Mhmh” the younger one replies distractedly as she continues to kiss her neck.

You take you off her finger with a snap.

“Please daddy, I was so good… fuck me”

She grins looking at you, almost as if Ale wasn't kissing her.

“Yes daddy, fuck her” the blonde supports you, whispering those words directly into contact with her skin.

Jenni's eyes widen when the blonde calls her that.

She bites her lip, her hand ends under your neck. “Come here, sit on my lap”

You rush to do it, hoping for contact.

“Kiss Alexia” she orders you and, without wasting time, you turn towards the blonde and place your lips on hers.

It's a slow, passionate kiss, done just to put on a show, a private show for Jenni, just for her.

“My good girls” she pants as you feel her lips touching your neck, one hand grabbing your breast, the other on your butt.

You break away from the kiss and then look into Jenni's eyes, your fingers move toward her shirt.

“Can I undress you daddy?” I ask shyly, hoping for an affirmative answer.

She looks at you, eyes trained on yours; you try to make the cutest puppy eyes and, caught up in trying to convince her, you move your lips to her sensitive spot, the one under her earlobe.

“Please, daddy, I was so good for you”

“Okay,” she replies, and you smile against her.

You kneel, a couple of feet away from her body. Your hands grab one button after another, undoing them from the buttonholes, and then you help her remove the shirt, leaving her chest bare, her breasts covered by a simple black bra.

You look at her body, get lost in observing her tattoos, her defined muscles, and touch the straps of her bra.

She unhooks it, letting it fall onto her lap.

You bite your lip in front of her swollen nipples, you want to kiss them, lick them, but you know that to do so you have to have her permission.

“Can you undo my pants?” she asks you, urging you to do so.

You nod, your hands moving down to the waistband of her pants, undoing them and pulling down the zipper.

Jenni pushes them, and her underwear, towards her knees and you crawl backward, pulling them towards her ankles, then throwing them on the floor.

“Take the black strap from the drawer,” she orders, and you quickly move toward the cabinet.

You hear her tell Alexia to take off the harness and lie down on her stomach, immediately followed by noises.

“Good girl”

You turn around and see her lying between her legs, her head against her chest, the younger girl's hands are in the raven's hair, her head tilted back.

“So sensitive”

You bite your lip at the sight, the pain in your belly getting stronger, more and more needy to have an orgasm.

Alexia moans when the brunette bites her nipple, but she doesn't have time to realize it because the older one moves further and further down, toward her pelvis.

“My perfect girl”

You are standing, in front of the cabinet, not knowing what to do, what to say.

“Amor, lie down next to Alexia, on your stomach, legs open. Give me the strap”

Quickly you lie down next to Alexia, hoping for contact, for relief.

Jenni grins at the sight of your desperation, at the sight of how needy you are.

“Kiss her” she orders you.

You place your lips on hers, a hesitant, sweet, light kiss, as if you were afraid of hurting her. Your hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her skin, and she bites your lip, pulling it towards her, making you gasp.

“Daddy please” you beg, in a moment of pause in the kiss, your forehead against Alexia's one.

You look at the raven woman and find her wearing the strap-on.

“Here's what we'll do now: I'll fuck Alexia, while you kiss her, and then, if you deserve it, I'll fuck you”

You look at her pleadingly.

You need to be touched, to come, to have attention.

"Daddy, please"

"Safeword?"

You swallow your saliva not knowing how to respond. You know you don't need to stop, you want to see Alexia get fucked by Jenni, but you also know you need physical contact. You don't want to be selfish, shift the attention onto yourself, Jenni has said several times that this was supposed to be Alexia's night and you need to be her good girl, to be praised for it, but you need to be touched, to feel loved.

"Amor?" she asks, her voice softest, as she kneels on the bed, her knees on either side of your body.

“Yellow,” you whisper without looking into her eyes, scared to see disappointment there.

“Do you need us to stop?”

You shook your head quickly. "I... can I come then? Please Daddy, I'll be good, I swear"

She smiles, her lips kissing yours. "Yes, little girl. Be my good perfect girl and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life, mh?”

You swallow saliva at the praise, at the promise of relief.

"No more teasing? Promise?" you ask.

She grips your jaw gently, forcing you to look at her. "Look at me, little girl. I promise. And if it's too much you stop me, okay? Do you promise me?"

You blush under her serious yet sweet gaze.

"Promise" you whisper, then you turn your head towards the blonde and go back to kissing her, a more passionate, rougher kiss.

You hear Jennie laughing while she gets up and then positions herself between Ale's legs, her fingers teasing her folds, moving inside her with a slow rhythm. “Ready, pretty girl?”

"Please Jenni, please-"

And, without waiting for other words or begs, she enters her.

Alexia arches her back in response, her head tilted towards the wall. Your lips attach to her neck, you kiss it, you bite it; you move one hand towards her breast, playing with the nipple.

The blonde moans as Jenni begins to move into her slowly, giving her time to adjust.

But you don't have time, you want to have your orgasm, be touched, be fucked.

You turn her face towards you, your lips on hers again, and you pull her nipple harder, passing tell between your fingers.

When Jenni starts to move with a fast, sharp, pace, Alexia pulls away from you, her hands on Jenni's back, her legs around her body, her lips against hers.

You bite your lip as you look at them.

The older one moves at a faster and faster pace, while the blonde moans closer and closer, more and more desperately.

The pain in your belly increases at this sight, desire burns inside you.

“Are you closed,?” she asks, her voice low, hoarse, even if it seems more like a statement.

"Yes, yes daddy, I'm closed - Alexia moans uncontrollably, her head tilted back - may I come? please daddy, make me cum”

You contract your thighs hearing her beg, hearing her calling Jenni daddy. You push towards her neck, kissing it, while Jenni kisses the other side.

“Cum for me amor” she whispers against her ear.

Alexia, shortly after, arches her back even more, a scream leaving her lips, her eyes closed and her forehead wet with sweat.

Jenni continues to move into her until her orgasm is over, then slowly pulls out of her.

She kisses her lips, her cheeks. “My perfect girl, you did so good”

The blonde gasps, unable to form any thoughts, any sentences. Her chest rhythmically contracting, her breathing quickening.

“Lie on your stomach, on your elbows and knees” Jenni orders, without even looking at you, while still kissing Alexia.

As if awakened from a stupor, execute quickly. Your back arched obscenely, your head close to Alexia's, your hands above your head, your legs open.

“Fucking soaked, who would have thought that our slut likes to look as well as be looked at”

Her voice is low, hoarse, and she says it while her finger grazes your folds, from your clit to your hole.

You arch your back even more, seeking contact.

“Daddy, please, ple-aaa” you scream when her lips press against your folds, her tongue exploring it, teasing your clit.

You clench the sheets in your fists, rhythmically push your body towards her, seeking relief, seeking your orgasm.

You feel her finger rest against your hole, then enter you effortlessly, and then another.

“So soaked - hand moving, straight away, furiously - My slut”

“Yes… yes daddy, your slut”

She bites your cheek, and you groan in pain.

“Please, I beg you… please daddy”

She smiles against your skin, a third finger adding.

You push towards her quickly, sprawling, the orgasm advancing in you.

You feel it.

“Are you closed?”

You nod into the mattress.

“Yes daddy, please, can I come?”

She bites your ass, then removes her fingers from you, but you don't even have time to notice because her cock enters you.

You scream with pleasure.

One of her arms ends up around your neck, forcing you to your knees, your back against her body.

She immediately moves fast, hard, inside you.

“My slut, only mine. So needy, so desperate”

"Yes... yes daddy" You moan, not knowing what to say to her.

She tightens her grip around your neck, her other hand pinching a nipple, the thrusts more and more frantic, faster, while she moans against your ear.

"Wait for me to come"

You close your eyes and shake your head. “I can’t, daddy I can’t… please”

“Wait me, be my perfect girl” she replies as she fucks you even harder.

You contract your body in an attempt to slow the orgasm that is building within you. “Please daddy, please”

"Cum, cum for me”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso fanfics #jenni hermoso imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas #Alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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bangchansgirlsblog · 3 months

Text

Keeping up with the Bhangs

This is a one shot from the little series. Read it if you would like it’s on my master list :))

Warning: Angst

Pairing: Bangchan x reader

Summary: Being a mum is hard when you have to constantly play good cop, bad cop.

"Chan?" She called for her husband. "Chan come look at what your daughter did!" Y/n called again. The sight infront of her was painful. Her little girl was stood in the middle of the room looking so innocent but she had created a huge train wreck around her. She couldn’t believe it.

She tried to keep her cool, she really did but she couldn’t. She heard the quiet footsteps making their way up towards their daughters room. Her anger was being tested and she felt like she was about to blow.

"What is it Y/n? I have a really important-" he paused when he looked up from his phone as he stared at the sight in front of him. "What the hell?" He let out a gasp.

The room was a mess. There was paint everywhere and crayons all over the wall. The collections of toys chan had gotten Soo-min where spread all over the place and her clothers (Soo-min) was covered in dirt, paint and crayons as she stood there looking innocent with the crayon in her hand.

"Chan look what your daughter did!" Y/n raised her voice a little causing Soo-min to jump. She took little steps quickly to hide behind her father who was now standing fully in the room. It had been obvious she was scolded before this because her little hands were shaking and her lips were quivering.

Chans eyes soften as he loosened the tie that wrapped around his neck and unbuttoned his shirt. He was determined to keep his wife calm and fix whatever was going on. If he had time of course.

"Hey, Y/n calm down. Don’t stress out baby. Its okay," He picked up his little girl with one hand trying to remove the paint of her face. Her eyes on the verge of tears as she pouted. "We can just get the cleaners to clean it-"

Chan being calm about the whole situation pissed of Y/n to the fullest because why was he so put together? Why was he such a good calm dad.

"Chan! you dont get it! this is not okay, she constantly disobeys, this is a huge mess! i left her for only a few minutes!" Y/n groaned frustrated as she threw the cups she had collected from the ground into a basket.

"Y/n, its fine. She's a baby-" the glare Y/n gave him instantly made him shut up and look at his little girl that was basically holding onto his shirt for dear life.

"M' sorry," Soo-min chocked on her sobs as tears started to spill and she Sniffed. She didn’t understand why her mum was being so scary. She only wanted to draw to make her happy cause she knew how sad she had been.

Chans heart melted at her little pout.

"Its okay mama, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from her cheeks and grabbed the crayon and paint brush from her tiny little hands. "Y/n look what you've done, now she's crying."

"Chan you cant honestly think this is okay-" Y/n was buffled. Chan didn't think this was okay, did he?

"she's a kid! kids make mistakes, she's still learning. You don't scold her, you teach her," His voice was now loud aswell. He was getting frustrated. He didnt want his children growing up in a toxic enviroment where they get yelled at or abused. That was his worst nightmare.

“Then fine! You raise them if ur such a good teacher,”

“I don’t have time for this Y/n I have a big meeting coming-“

“Of course you fucking do, why don’t you just move into your office and abandon your kids and pregnant wife!”

Her blood was boiling. It was like she was getting everything off her chest and she needed it.

“Y/n that’s enough. Your acting like a child in front of her!” Chan growled. “You can’t even control this situation without calling and crying for me,” his chest was moving up and down as he was huffing. Trying so hard to control himself but he was stressed and tired and it was like she wanted to pick a fight every chance she got.

"Chan! why do you always have to be good cop. Why cant you see this is wrong? Stop being a bad parent and-'

"Bad parent?" He scoffs and looked up at her buffled, "I'm the bad parent? just cause you were abused when you were younger doesn't mean you have to put your trauma on my children..." His eyes go wide. He didn't mean it. He was just angry. He didn't mean any of it.

The tension in the air wise thick. The shocked gasp that left her mouth was painful. Her head started to spin. Her eyes turning red as her body started to overheat. The emotions she felt were overwhelming. A panic attack was coming on. Her eyes landed on her daughter, the little girl was covering her ears trying to cover her face in her fathers chest. Was she a monster?

"Papa? no fighting," The little girl squealed as she still continued to cover her ears. This made Y/n's heart break. was it true? was she becoming her toxic mother.

"It's okay mama," He comforted her shivering body, "I-Im going to get her changed so i can go back to my meeting. I'll tell the maids to come clean up," he so badly wanted to hold his wife and apologize but with the way she stood in one place he knew he couldn't have the conversation, well not right now.

The door closed behind him as her little girls sniffles slowly faded in the distance. Y/n was in shock. Her brain was taking long to react. Her hands were cold and all of a sudden she couldnt hear anything around her.

Was she the problem? Was she being hard on the kids? she never yelled at any of them unless they did something horrible, she never intended for the father of her kids to call her toxic. To embarrass her like that.

It was too much, she was done playing tough guy. she was tired of the constant fight of depression. She was tired of her husband degrading her as she stayed home while he was out all night partying doing God knows what.

She wanted her life back. she wanted to be fun again. She didnt want to be tired all the time. She was tired of being pregnant.

Her face felt wet. Her hands automatically covering her eyes. Heart wrenching sobs leaving her body as she placed a hand on her belly. The doubt of being a mother was creeping back up. The sudden urge to run away and dissapear haunted her conscious. Truth is she was tired of the fake smiles and the big parties and important business people.

Yes, she loved the big house her husband built for them, she loved the grand cars and the golden credit cards but she wanted to feel again. She wanted to be loved again. By her husband. She wanted to be a teenager again, falling in love and being young and free.

She laid on the called floor. Her arms supporting the heavy bump she was carrying. The tiled sending shivers down her spine. The tears still spilling from her eyes until eventually she grew tired and fell asleep.

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a-spes · 1 month

Text

| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - part two (4.070 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person, and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Men & minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, nothing else for the moment (I think?)

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

When Natasha realised that you left nothing to her, taking even her cheque book, she had to call her sister, asking her to come and pay for her. Even if she tried to be as nice as she could in such a situation, she couldn’t keep her words from being harsh.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. Natasha Romanoff, known as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of her generation, having to explain to the waiter that she can’t pay, having to ask her sister for money. It is something that shouldn’t have happened, something that needed to be repaired.

If one thing was sure, it’s that Yelena has not been happy to be woken up by her sister’s bad mood, but she complied with her request without questioning it, knowing better than to argue with her eldest.

“Don’t you dare to say a word", she warned when she eventually saw the blonde approaching the table.

She had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for her sister who decided to take her time. It was a childish way of avenging the brutal awakening she underwent, and the redhead would certainly have laughed if she wasn’t already irritated, and the youngest’s attitude only made it worse.

On the contrary, when Yelena saw her sister sitting at the table, she forgot about her bitterness, realizing how funny the situation was. She never could’ve imagined her sister calling her because she needed money. She is one of the richest people that exist on earth, and one of the most far-sighted at the same time. She always has her phone, at least two cards, her cheque book, and an absurd amount of cash, just in case.

The smile that grows on her face as she realizes how improbable the situation is earns her a slap on the back of the head, and Natasha never holds back her strength.

“Ouch!" She said, rubbing where she was hit, “it hurts!” She complained, but her sister doesn’t seem to care. In a second, the smile disappeared, giving way to a dark look.

“Shut up", the redhead said, rolling her eyes. She knows her sister as the back of her hand, and she also knows that the strength she put in that slap wasn’t enough to hurt her. She probably barely felt it, and is just too much of a cry baby sometimes. Something that’s pissing off the redhead that is in no mood for that kind of game. “Shut up, or you’ll learn what real pain is", she added, not even trying to hide the threat behind her words.

“You’ve no right to snap at me when I came all the way just to help you", she protested, and if they both knew she was right, her words were greeted by a simple sigh from the redhead who ran her hand over her face. No apologies, just silence.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she witnessed her sister in such a state of distress, but she knows that nothing good came out of it. If she enjoys it when the oldest terrifies her men, she fears the incensed decisions she will inevitably make.

She could burn the whole city if she wanted to.

And Natasha has to admit that the thought crossed her mind a few times while she was waiting for the blonde to show up. She was barely able to control her anger, and couldn’t help but bounce her right leg under the table while her fingers were tapping on the table. But none of these actions helped to calm her nerves.

“I abandoned really important things, you know”, she added, as she took her wallet out of her pocket to put it in her sister’s hand. She had outstretched it toward her, and Yelena didn’t need words to understand what the redhead wanted. “All of that because you forgot your wallet …", she mumbled under her breath, but obviously the other heard it.

“I didn’t forget my wallet, it has been stolen”, she muttered, as if it could make the situation less embarrassing, as if she hoped her sister wouldn’t hear, but none of these statements turned out to be true.

“You’re joking, right?” she asked back, not believing the oldest. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone if that’s the case”, she added, sure that her sister was lying to her in an attempt to hide what she probably considered as a weakness.

That’s what her sister always does. Most of the time, she is perfect, but when she inevitably makes mistakes, she always finds excuses. She blames her men, runs away, or pretends it has never happened, and Yelena feels like it’s exactly what’s happening right now. She is thinking that her sister has forgotten her wallet, but doesn't want to admit it.

Maybe because the idea of Natasha being robbed sounds unbelievable.

“I am not lying, someone stole me”, she said again, and her sister better not make her repeat it a third time because she will really lose her temper this time. Everytime she said it out loud, it only made it a bit more real, as if she couldn’t quite believe it before. But the realization is now sinking in, and she feels like she is becoming crazy with all the thoughts that are crossing her mind at the moment. “They took everything", she angrily added, throwing the empty wallet on the table, only for the youngest to check.

And her sister was right. They took everything, not leaving a single penny. The blonde was so shocked that she didn’t even know how to react.

“But … who’s stupid enough to steal things from The Natasha Romanoff?” She managed to ask, once the initial surprise had worn off, “and how did that even happen?” she added, looking at her sister who was now pacing up and down the terrace.

But she knew she wouldn’t get an answer, at least no today. Her sister was ignoring her voice, too busy mumbling things to herself, and she would probably be thrown over the edge if she interrupts, so she waited for them to be in the car to talk again.

She didn’t even complain when the oldest stole her keys, deciding that she will be the one to drive without even asking first. The blonde slipped in the passenger seat, muttering a few insults that Natasha pretends not to hear.

“So, what do you want us to do?” she eventually asked after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes. She was looking at the redhead, the one who was staring at the road, lost in her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she replied, and brought back to reality by the question, she started the car, trying to ignore the look of surprise on her sister’s face.

“Nothing?” she repeated, “so you’re just going to let them go away when they robbed you?” she continued, and the lack of reaction from her sister made her want to shake her sister to get her thinking straight.

“Nothing yet” she corrected her, putting an end to Yelena’s protests. Despite what the other may think, she doesn’t intend to let the culprit be forgiven. It has never been her intention, and she knows exactly what to do to get every penny back.

When she notices the determination in the eyes of the oldest, she knew the next months were going to be interesting. She smirks at the thought.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

This time was the last.

That’s what you said to yourself after every theft, and it has never been true, because you never earned enough to get out of this situation. What you were stealing was usually just enough for you to survive a few weeks, and even if you kept telling that to yourself, you stopped believing that it could become a reality.

It was nothing more than a dream, you head knew it, even if your heart never stopped dreaming about a future brighter than your present. Every night, the day you would eventually be out of misery was the last thing you were thinking about, and you spent hours imagining how it would look like.

You wanted an apartment that would be big enough to welcome the friends you would have made, and a job that you appreciate, but about which you would still complain.

At first, it was only about stealing the essentials, a jumper or an apple for which you would feel guilty for days. It’s when you stopped fearing that someone would catch you that you’ve started to think bigger. The few people who witnessed your theft generally decided that they weren’t paid enough to come after you, a little girl isn't worth their energy.

The years have gone by, and if the number of your victims increased, your wealth hasn’t. That’s when you realized that stealing money from the tourists in the street was not what would give you a better life, and decided to go after the richest people on the earth, the ones that probably wouldn’t even notice if you’d taken a few hundred dollars from their wallet.

One day, you’ll be making so much money that you will be able to pay for your debts.

Slowly, this need to survive has turned into a need for a life where you would have something to call yours. You didn’t want something to eat, you wanted an apartment. You didn’t want stolen clothes, you wanted something bought with your own money. Even a cup or a pen would be enough, as long as you could claim it as yours.

One day, you’ll deserve everything you have.

You stopped stealing almost two years ago, when you eventually raised enough money to start a new life, and the dream became a reality. It took you a lot of time and effort, but you eventually got exactly where you’ve been dreaming of being since your teenage years.

It was thanks to the inattention of this woman who hadn’t blocked her card when it was stolen, neither she declared her cheque book stolen, allowing you to use it as you wished for months. Usually, your victims are quick to solve the problem, leaving you only with the few notes you stole from their wallets.

But this time, you were left with more money than you ever had, more than enough to buy a ticket to another city, and still being able to buy essential supplies after. You could leave, rent a room for a few weeks, just until you find a job and get your first pay, you could even buy some new clothes, and you would still have enough money.

At first, you thought there was a catch, but the days have gone by, they became weeks, months, then years, and if the card and the cheque book never stopped working, nothing bad happened. No one ever knocked at your door, no letter got sent, and the feeling of dread you felt every time you paid has finally disappeared.

Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Maybe there was a problem that never got fixed. Maybe it’s just taking a lot of time. You have no idea, but you can’t help but wonder why, thinking about all the reasons that must have led to that situation.

It is fate.

That’s what a part of your mind is whispering to you, and you ask nothing more than being able to believe it, the other part trying to understand the situation without being able to make sense of it. Even after two years, the question was still in the back of your mind, and you’re almost sure that you could still use the card if you wanted to.

But you don’t, because you made a promise to yourself. You swore that, the moment you would earn enough money to support yourself, you would stop using hers. It has been a bit more than a year since you found your job, and this part of your life feels so foreign now. The only reminder of your past is that box, where you’re keeping all the cards, cheque books, and wallets you once stole. The one that’s hidden in your closet, where no one could see it, not even yourself. The one that contains a past you want to forget about.

You now have a job, an apartment, and you even made some friends on the way. They’re good people, hanging out with them makes you feel like you are too. They never asked questions about where you’re coming from, because they don’t need to know, they’re just appreciating you as you are. The grown-up version of who you were once.

When late at night guilt gnaws at your mind, you’re thinking about their compliments. When the sadness at the thought of your younger self never being loved that way, your memories with them remind you that you succeed to become someone that can be loved.

Someone that deserves everything she has.

There is only one person that had glimpses of who you were, and it’s Kate Bishop. Even if you’ve tried to keep your secrets away from her, it’s hard to do so when you’re spending all your days and nights with someone so curious.

Kate is a coworker, a roommate, but mostly your closest friend. It’s not because she understands you more than anyone else. It’s because she never makes a big deal of anything, and you know nothing you could tell her about you would change the way she acts around you. This girl is everything you want to be: free and happy.

Someone that doesn’t care about social norms.

She would sneak into your room in the middle of the night just because she heard you cry. She wouldn’t even ask questions about the reasons behind the tears, only complaining about how thin the walls are, and how she can’t sleep because of that.

She would go through your belongings when she needs something but she can’t ask you because you’re not home, only telling you when she gives the objects back.

She would answer your phone when it’s ringing while you’re in another room or your hands busy, holding the conversation as if the calls were intended for her.

That’s how she discovered you were looking for a new place to stay. You’ve only been coworkers for a few months when she answered your phone. It was the social worker who called to tell you that you’ll have to move out of your flat within the next weeks because you no longer meet the criterias.

Your first reaction was to yell at Kate. It has been the first and only time you’ve done it, usually not minding when she does it.

But this time it was different: you were scared. You didn’t know her a lot at that time, and you were fearing that this call would destroy the relationship you had started to build. You put so much effort into pretending that everything was fine, and had always been that way, that you thought the truth coming out would ruin everything.

She was the first relationship that you didn’t build on lies, at least not on the big ones. She also has been the first to be able to hold a conversation with you for a while. Not Lydia, or any name you might have borrowed by the past, but just y/n.

When you’ve spent your whole life lying, it’s not easy to know who you are.

It was a bad habit that you had a hard time quitting, still having the urge to lie about some details. Maybe to appear as a more interesting person, maybe because you are afraid to disappoint them.

No, it’s because it’s comforting.

It’s what gave you a bit of hope, what gave you the impression that you had a normal life. You’ve never been interested in living the marvelous lives of your alias, you just wanted a normal one for you. Maybe if you tell these stories a lot of time, your mind will accept them as reality.

Over the years, lying became more than a habit: it was an addiction. You felt bad every time you lied to the black-haired, even if it was only about small and insignificant things, like your favourite colour, but you couldn’t just stop. It’s only that day that you realised that it might ruin everything between the two of you.

Everything has been so easy since you met Kate. You never felt like you were too much, or in the wrong place, because she always made sure to integrate you into the team, and you’re still regretting the words that fell from your lips that day.

She was the first genuine friend you’ve made, and that’s how you thanked her kindness, with snide remarks that she didn’t deserve.

For a minute, you saw yourself back there. In that lonely and miserable place.

But she didn’t get angry. Nor for the lies, nor for the horrible things you said. She didn’t look at you with pity, but with something that was closer to surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand your reaction, but knew enough to not judge. That’s when she asked you to be her flatmate.

Kate was the first one to learn about your favourite colour, the real one, and all your daily habits. From your favourite thing to eat for breakfast to the time you get up, she knows things you never thought you would share with someone one day. Kate has been the first one to see y/n. The one that doesn’t wear any mask, the one that does not need to pretend she is someone else.

Then, it was your turn.

Tonight, when you’re looking in the mirror, the only thing you can see is your smile. A bright, and big one. Even with makeup on, you are not looking or feeling as anyone else than yourself. Every choice has been made by you to suit your taste.

“Are you done yet?” She asked, and you could hear Kate’s muffled voice through the bathroom’s door, “we’re going to be late!” She complained for what’s probably the tenth time in the last quarter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was stamping her foot on the other side of the door, throwing a tantrum like a child.

“Isn’t it what celebrities are supposed to do?” you replied, a smug smile on your face as you eventually opened the door after spending more than an hour in the room.

Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection demands time, something your impatient roommate doesn’t seem to agree with. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed your arm.

“That’s not funny!” she exclaimed as she started dragging you toward the entrance. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at her attitude.

You know that the real reason behind her actions isn’t a concern for punctuality, Kate always being late, but just a result of her excitement for the evening that’s coming: some friends of hers are going to play music in a bar, and she doesn’t want to miss even a second of the show. A simple glance at the clock confirms what you were thinking: you’re not late.

But you also know it’s useless to argue with the black haired woman when she is in that state of mind, so you just go along with it, letting your friend drag you toward the entrance. You have just enough time to grab your bag before you leave the apartment.

You are too focused on your footsteps to be listening to her rambling about the coming party, trying to not trip on your own feet. But she isn’t listening to you either, deaf to your pleas for her to slow down, or to let go of your arm, and it’s only when you arrive at the said bar that you get your freedom back.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

She never forgot.

She has been thinking about what happened that night every day since. The years have gone by, but it never left her mind, and picturing all the ways in which she could get back what you owe her was soothing her to sleep every night.

Despite her impatience, she took her time, waiting for the moment you would’ve forgotten about her, when you would let your guard down, thinking that your past mistakes had been forgotten, and forgiven. Maybe your previous victims did, but she has nothing in common with these guys, and chasing you wasn’t about the money. It was about dignity.

She needed to make you feel the same shame that she had that morning.

Some of her associates don’t understand her obsession, even her sister sometimes suggested that she let it go, fearing that it would jeopardize the company. But she stayed firm; you started a game that night, and she is not the kind that appreciates losing.

She is determined to show you that two can play that game.

It wasn’t difficult to track you down. The only obstacle had been the false identity you built for yourself, but it had only been a matter of months before she found you, there was no way she couldn’t recognize your face on the security tape. It was in the middle of the night, one of those where she couldn’t sleep, and eventually decided that she would rather look for you instead of tossing and turning in her bed, consumed by her thoughts.

That’s when she found it, a footage from a shop’s security camera where your face appeared. You were nothing like the woman she met at the party, from your hair to the way you were moving, you definitely had none of Lydia’s elegance, and she couldn’t even understand how you’ve been able to pretend to be her, and how you’ve possibly been good enough to fool her, The Natasha Romanoff.

But despite the numerous differences, she was sure it was you on that video. There were details you couldn’t change, and the shape of your jaw was one of them. She could still see your face as she had you pinned beneath her that night, her fingers running along your cheeks, wishing that moment would last forever.

Since then, she kept collecting these videos as a kid would collect cards, watching them regularly. The footage made everything make sense, and you seemed closer than ever as she kept hitting the replay button.

She had to admit that you are smart, but not smart enough, and everytime you used the card was one more clue guiding her in the right direction. At first, she was able to track your movements, it only took her a few more weeks before she discovered your identity, and more importantly, learned about your past.

A few weeks, that’s all it took, yet she had waited several years before going after you, deciding it was the right time only when you started building a new life for yourself. You moved to a city where no one knew your name, you got a normal job, and haven’t stolen since. You even made some friends. You got the life you have probably dreamed about since your teenage years, and she knew that perfectly.

She also knew that the moment she would break your illusion of peace, and steal your hope of a better life, you’ll be heartbroken. Hopeless.

She saw how, as the years went by, you started to be less cautious, thinking that your past mistakes were nothing more than faded memories in your mind. She saw how you eventually stopped looking around every time you were going out, how you started opening up to your friends, seeming to forget about what you have done.

But she didn’t forget, and she promised herself that you wouldn’t either. It’s only fair that you pay for your mistakes, isn’t it?

She started the car when she saw you, and Kate, disappear round the corner. You were obviously out for the night, and it was the perfect opportunity. No one would pay attention to the disappearance of a girl, not in a crowded, dark place that reeked of alcohol and illegal substances.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

| tag list - @thalia-is-not-ok / @tobiaslut

#a spes writing #pretty faces dark souls #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow fanfiction #dark natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #reader insert #female reader

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flyingupward · 2 years

Text

WHAT CRYSTAL ARE YOU?

JACK SLOANE

pink opal

there is strength in softness and no one knows this better than you. no one knows cruelty it took for you to learn to be so vulnerable. your sensitivity is your armor. you refuse to let the world crush you. you refuse to stop seeing beauty in broken things. you will always look for the light in the darkness. people underestimate you. they think you are far too delicate. but they don't know your gentleness was forged from hardship. there are depths beneath your smiles no one will know. when was the last time you did let someone know, though? when was the last time you let yourself cry. when was the last time you didn't bury your anger? you're more than what you give to others.

DELILAH BRIARWOOD

black tourmaline

you have a strength to you that has been hard earned. you don't hesitate to cut out the parts of you you despise, you're unafraid to call out others. your bluntness can off-put people at times, but you're unwilling to compromise your personal code. once your loyalty has been earned it is not easily shaken. you're a protector and you purge away anything you believe could harm you or those you love. when was the last time you relaxed, though? when was the last time you let down your guard? there is just as much strength in vulnerability.

LAUDNA

snowflake obsidian

you are all grit and closed fists. you refuse to let anything in through the cracks of your armor. you would burn the world to protect those you love. the heart of a warrior burns in your chest. and it also weighs your shoulders down. what is the price for being so strong? what have you sacrificed to make yourself feel safe? when was the last time you let someone see your soul? when was the last time you let someone see you and not just the masks you hide behind? not everything must be a fight.

tagged. stole it from @shedawn

tagging. anybody who wants toooo

#J SLOANE ✩ aesthetic | all that pain and anger and loneliness and it just made her kind #D BRIARWOOD ✩ aesthetic | volition left you burdened with a curse #LAUDNA ✩ aesthetic | just once id like someone to look at me and not see a monster #THESE ALL FIT REAL WELL TBH #laudna in a different way than i think the description means but #in the sense that she hides behind a scary mask but is really soft #instead of a tough mask

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igotanidea · 5 days

Text

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time.

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall @bloommart @lorinevv @taylorswars @jessiegerl @glocuseguardian3rd @angiieguevara @laurasdrey @jholiday @smailaway @some-random-stranger-007 @beckahhope @bookishtheaterlover7 @eclecticcollectioncloud @thingfromlove @dutifullyannoyingfox @kitkat14sblog @dancingandreadingwithv @heyits-zedo @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @ben-has-arrived @kindaslightlyacidic @espressopatronum454 @miluiel1 @powellssaturn @jess4rush @krismdavis

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

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leviathanspain · 1 year

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little hell

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: you wished more than anything that he had left you to die in that arena, because nothing could hurt more than seeing him with her

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

watching their ceremony had felt like you had drank poison. a burning fire had been brewing in your abdomen, and as they kissed, you had to swallow the bile that threatened to come out.

finnick had turned to face the onlookers, and smiled as he held annie’s hand. only you could notice the smile faltering as he gazed over you, and you looked down, not wanting to look at him any longer.

you had abandoned the wedding early, excusing yourself with the pain in your leg, that hadn’t bothered you since your days in the infirmary, but it was good enough.

you fought tears until you got behind closed doors, where with the commotion of the celebration, hid away the noises of your sobs. finnick knew, and you too had known, that annie would always hold a flame to his heart, but it was you who allowed yourself to fall in love, and it was him who gave you the hope.

days later, a soft knock on your door rang out and finally you had peeled yourself out of your bed to answer it. you couldn’t hide your surprise when you saw it was katniss, looking pale in her grey jumpsuit.

you let her in without question, and moved to sit on your bed, with katniss closing the door behind her.

you raised an eyebrow, “katniss. honestly you’re the last person i would expect to be here.”

katniss didn’t say anything for a moment, until finally, “i doubt you expected anyone at all.” you let out a bitter laugh, and nodded, “i suppose you are correct.”

katniss nodded, “but i’m not. finnick has been asking about you.”

you scoffed, “why does he even care? he’s a married man, he’s with her..” you trailed off, “im just here, the other woman..” you trailed off, and katniss swallowed thickly.

“i cant say anything for him,” she admitted, “but i will say that he is horrible for what he did- and how he lied to you both.” you nodded, forgetting completely about annie, who was oblivious to his indiscretions.

katniss had stayed with you for another moment, where she sat in a comforting silence.

finnick had been looking for you throughout the compound. he had hug onto annie as she did to him, but his eyes would still clear a room looking for you.

he had finally found you, and pulled himself away from annie with just a good enough excuse.

he made his way to you, and you turned to meet his eyes. you rolled your eyes, and sharply turned back on your heel, your feet carrying you to somewhere you didn’t even know you were going.

finnick called your name, desperation in his voice, you felt him hot on your feet. without thinking, he grabbed your arms, and threw you against the wall.

you gasped, and turned to see no one had even batted an eye at his slight aggression, but you were now in no position to ignore him.

finnick swallowed, looking down, “i’m sorry. for having to do this but you won’t talk to me otherwise.” you nodded your head slightly, and sighed, “and?” finnick inhaled, “i should have told you about annie. i- i don’t know what i was thinking.”

“i don’t either finnick. if you had any fucking brains, you would’ve left me to die out there, so you wouldn’t have to see my face around here, and feel that guilt.” you felt your eyes rim with tears, and you sniffled, “you should’ve killed me. done the mercy, finnick. and there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t hate you for what you didn’t do.”

finnick exhaled, and his voice felt shaky, as did his grip on your hands, “i know. i should’ve told you about annie, i should’ve stopped it but-“ he shrugged, “i love you.” he whispered.

you blinked and tears fell onto your cheeks, “you cant say that. you cant say that!” you pulled your arms free and threw him back. finnick fell back onto the wall and stared at you in shock, “you don’t get to fucking say that.” you yelled, and felt yourself heat with anger.

you shook your head, giving finnick one last look before you left him there.

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshots #finnick odair #finnick odair smut #hunger games imagine #hunger games fluff #hunger games angst

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runningmunson · 1 year

Text

Scar

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Ever since the birth of your son, you have avoided intimacy with Aemond in fear of him hating your new body. Aemond is there to change your mind. Warnings: insecurities, mentions of stretch marks, smutty-ish (f oral receiving)

Masterlist

You had just left your son’s room for the night and made your way to your chambers with your handmaiden, Edith, following behind. You were surprised to find Aemond reading in the room, knowing he usually got in much later than you. He briefly looked up from his book as greetings were made.

She made quick work of undressing you and undoing your braid, leaving your hair loose and wavy. You felt your husband's gaze on you the whole time you were getting ready for bed, his book long abandoned. Your eyes met in the mirror and noticed his raised eyebrow and the smirk that grew on his lips.

“Will that be all, my lady?” asked Edith.

“Yes,” Aemond said curtly, as he answered for you. You glanced at him before turning your attention to Edith and smiled apologetically at her.

“Thank you, Edith. I shall call for you in the morning,” you gave her hand a squeeze.

“Goodnight, my lady. My prince,” she bowed at the both of you and left the room. You let out a sigh and made your way toward Aemond.

“Did you have to be so rude toward her? I quite like her, you know,” you scolded him.

He ignored your comment and pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “I missed you.”

“You saw me not but a few hours ago,” you chuckled.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to miss my wife,” he smiled and squeezed your hips. You froze as his hand traveled under your dress and up your thigh. You felt him grow hard as his fingers itched toward your womanhood.

You pulled away from his grasp and shot out of his lap. Your heart was racing as you backed away from him and made your way to the bed. “I-I wish to retire to bed now.”

“(Y/N)...” Aemond warned and stood from his seat to turn toward you. You stopped pulling the covers down when you heard footsteps coming closer to you.

“Please, drop it. I do not wish to argue with you tonight,” you pleaded but refused to look at him.

“What reason is it this time? Have I not been patient and understanding of every reason you have had? I have given you as much time and space as you have needed, but I miss you,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice due to his frustration.

This was not the first time it had happened, so it was no surprise to Aemond when you denied his advances again. You had not been intimate since before you had your son. It was only a matter of time before he grew tired of you and your reluctance.

At first, you had valid reasons, and he wouldn’t dare try anything during that time. You had a difficult labor, and your recovery was painful. You also chose to nurse your son on your own, so the days were long and the nights tiring as you didn't get much sleep. Aemond was your best support, always there to help you with whatever you needed. However, it has now been three moons since your son was born. Your body no longer held the same pain and your son began to sleep through the night. Yet you still had not even been naked in front of him since before you gave birth.

You wrapped one arm around your body as a way to find some comfort. Your hand found your face to hide from him as tears began to pool. Aemond yielded the second he saw your stature and the tears in your eyes. “No, no. Please, do not cry. I am sorry for bringing it up. It was not fair for me to burden you when you already have so much on your shoulders. Let us go to bed.”

“No, you are right. You have been nothing but amazing to me, yet I have continued to deny you any form of intimacy out of fear,” you glanced over at him.

“Fear? What do you mean? Are you afraid I would force that upon you? Because I wouldn’t dare,” Aemond panicked, thinking you thought of his advances as a demand and not a request.

“I do not think that of you, dear husband. I know you would never do that,” you sat on the bed and began to pick at your nails. “I fear that I will now disappoint you. My body… it's not the same as it was before. I have grown softer. My skin is marred with angry red marks. I do not wish to look undesirable to you.”

Aemond looked at you in shock. He made his way over and took your face in his hands, making eye contact before he spoke. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? The carnal desire I have to take you at every moment of the day? And you dare believe anything less?”

“But you haven't even seen me. I am-” you tried to argue, but he shook his head not letting you finish.

“I never expected you to look the same. If you truly believe that I would not desire you, then I am not showing you enough of my love. Please, let me show you if you will allow me,” his hands found their way to the bottom of your nightgown, silently asking for permission. You gave a quick nod. He picked you up, laid you on the bed, and wasted no time taking your gown off your body.

Your immediate reaction was to cover your stomach as his eyes looked over your new body. His eye narrowed. He removed your arms that covered your body and placed them above your head. One of his hands grabbed your wrists to keep them from moving back to their previous location.

“Don't make me restrain you,” he said teasingly. He let go of your wrists, but you kept them above your head. His lips found your neck making your head twist up and to the side to give him better access.

“These are much larger than the last time I saw them,” he smirked against your neck as you felt his fingertips circle your breast. A thumb ran over your erect nipple, and a gasp left your lips as he gave it a tug. All too soon his lips trailed down your neck to your chest. A whine left your mouth as he did so.

He made his way further down your body and this time to the place you hated most. He raised his head to get a good look at you and traced his fingers along the new red grooves on your sides and lower abdomen. You wanted to push him away and hide but fought the urge.

“You say I am brave and still handsome despite my scar, but does the same not go for you? Just as I gave my eye in return for Vhagar, you bear these marks in return for our son. For that, I could not find you more beautiful, my love,” he paid careful attention to place a kiss on every single one.

“Soon enough, they will turn a silvery white. And is that not a color known for Targaryens?” he questioned but didn't wait for an answer. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt him spread your legs. His fingers ran up your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Aemond,” you let out a breathy moan and gripped the sheets as you felt his tongue come in contact with your core.

He lifted his head and smirked at you, “Don’t worry, I am going to worship you all night long and have you screaming out in pleasure. So much so that you forget every trivial reason you may think I find you undesirable.”

—

Taglist: @cullenswife , @wrendermeuseless

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

Birthday Surprise

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre: angst to smut to fluff

Request: Only for my fave human... you wanted this...

Summary: Carlos things she's cheating. She just wants to surprise her boyfriend for his birthday.

Warnings: mean dom Carlos, voyeurism, PinV, teasing, edging, degradation, spanking, hair pulling

Notes: so... happy birthday Carlos!

Masterlist

A week before his birthday, Carlos had determined that there is no doubt you are cheating on him. He just had yet to prove it.

It makes sense though. He can’t see any other reason you and Charles would be meeting up in private, hiding your phone from him, not telling him where you’re going.

He feels betrayed by both you and his teammate. The two people he’s supposed to trust.

But damn it all. He’s going to fight for your affection. Remind you why you chose him to begin with and put Charles in his place.

The day before they’re supposed to leave for Italy, Carlos is standing in the living room staring at you. Charles and his nervous laugh aren’t helping the situation at all. Is it really that hard to plan a surprise party?

The Spaniard wasn’t supposed to be home for another two hours. Max was supposed to keep him busy, but Carlos had supposedly told him there was an emergency at home.

You should have been paying closer attention to your phone. Then maybe you would have seen the texts reading ‘mission abort! Code red! Carlos is onto us!’

He’s onto something, but you’re not sure it’s what Max thinks it is.

“I can’t fucking believe you two.” He seethes. His eyes are burning holes into your skin. Does he really think you’d cheat?

“Carlos, please just-“

“Save it.” The shout makes you jump a bit. Part of you is worried he’s going to leave without giving you a chance to explain.

Best scenario right now it Carlos taking all his anger out during sex. Which you have a feeling is where this is going and you can’t help being turned on by it.

“I’m going to teach both of you a lesson.” And there’s the confirmation.

You don’t fight as Carlos rips you from the couch and tosses you over his shoulder like a rag doll. Charles looks mildly confused and frightened as the Spaniard grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him along to the bedroom.

He practically throws you onto the bed then slams the door behind him. He looks and Charles and points an aggressive finger at him. “You are going to stay put while I make a mess of what’s mine.” Charles gulps in fear, but he nods his head yes.

Carlos crawls over your body. His hands pin her waist to the bed. “Say the word if this is too much. Otherwise I’m not letting up.”

“Yes.”

“Yes who.” He growls. That small part of you wants to deny him the title. But seeing as the situation is already not going well for you-

“Yes sir.”

He doesn’t bother to spare Charles a glance. You do out of anxiety.

A strong hand grips your chin and rips your gaze away from him. “Can’t go two seconds without his attention. You really are just a whore.” He gets off of you. “Stand and strip. I want Charles to see exactly what he’s missing.”

You do as told. A measly few feet separate you and the Monegasque. You hold eye contact with him. He looks nervous, shifting his weight between feet.

Without clothes you feel exposed and vulnerable. The sun kisses your skin through the windows.

Carlos comes up behind you and runs his hands down your sides. A large hand lands on your ass with the familiar burn. You hiss in pain but don’t move.

“Count.”

Again, and again, and again. You stand there taking the palm of his hand. Bruised and burning. Your eyes are teary and your voice broke at about twenty. The sobs started and thirty. Then finally he stopped at forty.

Every nerve is on fire. Your legs are shaking like they might fall at any moment.

Charles looks horribly distraught, but he’s also got a hard on which is exactly where Carlos wants him. “See Charlie, aren’t her tears so pretty.”

her mind is gone. No words can be spoken kept she choke on her sobs.

Once again you’re being thrown onto the bed. this time you let out a shriek of pain. He flips you onto all fours. The sound of a zipper echoes in your ears.

Carlos spits on his hand and runs slick fingers down your slit. “Already so wet. Are you such a slut that you’re getting off on this?”

You let out a high pitch squeal as his hands slip out from between your folds and land a slip to your clit.

A hand grabs your hair and pulls your head upwards. Once again meeting the awkward gaze of Charles.

Carlos gives no warning as he slams into the back of you. “Look at her Charles. I’m the only one who can make her come undone.” His hips set a ridiculous pace. His fingers bruise your hips as he moves back and forth.

It feels like hours of Carlos just edging you. He finally pulls out and a warm substance coats your back. The guttural moans that Carlos realeases almost make you cry. But you know you’re not finishing. You've not earned it.

He flips you and repeats the same actions. Teasing you until you’re on the edge, then pulling out, leaving you a whiny writhing mess. Touching your clothes just enough to put you on the edge just to stop every motion and do it again when you calm down.

At some point, the words falling from lips are filthy, vile, and insulting. They slur together in your mind.

It’s so loud that none of them hear the door open. “Oh my god!” Shrieks Lando. A box on the ground displaying a cake which says ‘happy birthday Carlos’ in smeared letters. “I thought we were having a party?” The Brit covers his eyes and looks away. A bright blush covering his face.

Carlos looks between everyone. “Can you two give us a moment please? We’ll cleanup the cake later.”

The two boys leave you alone. Carlos takes a good look at his work. He places small kisses along your skin. “You were planning a party for me?”

“Thought it would fun before we had to leave.” The tears rolling down her cheeks from the teasing are being wiped by your boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry I accused you.”

“It’s okay, did you enjoy the sex?”

Carlos laughs. “I did. I feel much better. But now it’s time to get you cleaned up and see about getting a new cake.”

You whine a little. “Am I still in trouble?”

Carlos places a soft kiss to your temple. “No but we have a party to attend. I’ll reward you later.” He punctuates his statement with a wink. "For now, I want to remind you how beautiful you are. And tell you I'm sorry for ever thinking that."

"-'s okay. I still love you. I knew something like this might happen because I was being sneaky." She smiles at him. His feather light kisses still covering each mark. "And admittedly, I kind of enjoyed that."

The night continued as planned. Everyone enjoyed themselves. Aside from Charles and Lando, who couldn't look at the two of you without blushing.

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ultralightpoe · 27 days

Text

Rubies Hidden With Blood -Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: Hello, thank you for the patience while I am on a writing break. I’m still trying to figure out life and how to fix it, but I channeled some of the pain and anger into this and I hope you like it . I hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there in the world - Ultralightpoe

Warnings: mentions of executions, adultery, foul language

Word Count: 4996

MAIN Master List

Description: Inspired by Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth. (INSPIRED. You are not either of them you’re a character inspired by them)

(Thank you for the gif @onemillionyous )

x Enjoy! x

To Anne Boleyn, who spent the last month of her life preparing for the rest of her daughters life to the best of her ability. Every stitch and warning given was noticed.

And to Elizabeth, who spent the rest of her life hiding footprints for her mother in a home that had tried to strip her memory.

To the bond of the two, never truly understood.

You stood, stiff and freezing in the cold weather, on the very steps your mother walked up the day she was executed. A message you were very sure your father intended, one that you would not cave into.

Verlain, your fathers hand, stood to your right with a grim expression as he did his best to stop looking to the stained spot at the top of the steps. Where her blood had leaked down, seeping into the stone in a mark that would be there forever. It would be centuries before her death would be forgotten, a fact that sent a wave of nausea through you, gripping you in its fierce hold as you tried to inhale some fresh air. Fighting to keep the tears welling in your eyes at bay as the corset constricts against your ribs.

Breathe. Keep your wits about you.

“Are you feeling alright, your highness?” Verlain asks, eyebrows pinching together as he watches your hand slide across the front of your dress, as if you could ease the ache in your ribs and lungs from rubbing it. His tone slips at the last two words and you have to bite back the bitter laugh, not willing to risk your breath on it.

A moon ago you had been nothing more than a bastard to this court, upon his orders. Anyone within earshot of his majesty knew that the forsaken daughter of the castle whore would be painted a bastard the rest of her life.

The second her body had been carted off he had your handmaiden pack you up, sending you both to an estate far off, so that he would never have to look upon your face again.

“You haunt me! You plain cunt! You HAUNT ME!” He had yelled the day you begged, the day you crawled to your knees begging him to keep you. Of course you haunted him, you had her face. And whether he had to look upon you or not you were sure she haunted his every move.

She surely hadn’t visited you since she passed. There were no ghosts in the offwood estate. This castle, however, had more than you could dare keep track of.

But you hadn’t seen her. Whether you should be thankful for that had yet to be seen.

“Princess?” Verlain asks again, taking a step up, getting closer as he extends a hand to you. “Prin-“

“Don’t call me that.” You sneer, slapping his hand away from you and readjusting the veil that covered your face. Even with your back turned to the spit you could still see her blood on the stone, gulping quickly. Don’t look. Don’t. Look.

But Verlains eyes cast behind you to the stain, his neck showing an audible gulp before he guiltily looks back to you. “Princess, I never got to speak with you after-“

“I’m not your princess.” Your tone was cold, and you made a show of shooing him away. “And you should mind yourself, Lord Verlain. If his majesty catches you this close he might think ill of the intent.”

Verlains face pales, the man stepping back so quickly he nearly slips on the steps before turning back to the courtyard below, fixing his embellished attire.

You missed being a bastard. A bastard would never be sold off like this.

There was a war brewing, and many of the kingdoms were beginning to panic for alliances, this kingdom included. And there was one ally that everyone wanted, the seven kingdoms. Westeros. For there was truly no war that could be won against them.

You’d never seen a dragon, and if this was any under circumstance you would be excited. But this was your very own death march. Or as your mothers own prophet had claimed “you’ll earn your mothers reckoning.”

There was an ax somewhere out there with your name on it….. or maybe the jaw of a dragon ready to chew you up.

Before you could much more on it a firm grip snatches the back of your neck, pulling a gasp from you as it pulls you to them aggressively, the smell of wine filling your senses. “You step a foot out of line today and I’ll have your head just like I had your fucking mothers. You hear me, bastard? I’ll spike in on a fucking post.”

You can only nod, afraid that if you give a verbal response you might whine in pain, and you refuse to show him that weakness. He takes your response, letting go before moving to speak with Verlain as your older sister and little brother stand off to the side.

The best way to secure an alliance was through marriage. Your older sister couldn’t be married off since she was already married to a lord, and your younger brother was the heir to the kingdom, not to mention the Targaryens didn’t have many girls to marry off.

But they had Aemond Targaryen, the rumored demon of Westeros, with one eye and the largest dragon.

So you were renamed a princess, one that would be able to marry a prince.

Princess of whores being married to a prince of monsters. If your mother could see you now.

Bile rises up your throat as the memory of her face flashes through your mind, your eyes once again welling with tears. Stop thinking about her. Stop stop stop stop stop.

The heavy sound of thunder pulls your attention, blinking slowly as you try to peer through the veil to see the storm on its way, only to see clear skies. Confusion fills you as your brother gasps loudly, and then you see them, a hoard of dragons filling the skylines as their wings flap in unison . Not thunder, dragons.

Nausea fills you once more, and yet your mouth goes dry, fists clenching into the heavy skirts of your dress as you spot the older dragon riding in the back, a blur of long white hair flying with it.

And you know without a doubt, your future husband has arrived.

“Listen to me.” She sobs, falling to her knees before you as you cry out, the banging on the door scaring you even more than her tears. “You need to listen to me.”

“Where is papa?!” You scream, your mothers handmaidens rushing around the room as she pulls your face closer to hers by the back of your neck, pressing your foreheads together.

“Listen. To. Me.” She seethes, wiping your tears with a swipe of her thumb. “Breathe. Keep your wits about you. I need you to remember that these people are not your kin. They are not yours. They will not protect you.”

“Mama-“

“And your father is not- do. Not. Trust. Your. Father.”

“Mama please-“

“You need to remember to breathe. Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And?”

“Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And…. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. They cannot break me.”

“Good. Good girl.” She sobs, reaching to kiss your forehead, her lips holding there for a long moment as the door to your mothers apartments break open and the guards storm in.

The handmaidens pull you back quickly, right as your mother shoves something in the top of your dress before they are on her. There is no gentleness in the way they grab her by her hair and drag her out, and there is no gentleness in the grip the handmaidens keep on you as you claw and bite to get to her.

By the time they are out of sight there is nothing left but her shoe that had fallen as she was dragged out, and what she had hidden in your dress.

Your mother had been taken.

Aemond was sick of the wind, a feeling he never thought he would get and yet it has arrived. He was ready to land, get a break from the beast below his thighs and have a meal that hadn’t been dried and shoved into a satchel last week.

His mothers boat stayed below them, his eldest sister's dragon taking the lead of their travel in the front as his uncle stuck to her right. Aegon, a spoiled brat through and through, was left in Kings Landing to act as King Regent as Rhaenyra traveled with them.

Helaena and Jacaerys keeping him in check.

But his brother had gotten under Aemonds skin just fine before they left, whispering rumors about his future bride in drunken slurs that made him both angry in a protective manner and angry in nervousness that the whispers might be true.

“They passed her mother around the court like a toy to their whims, and when she was used up they killed her and replaced her with her daughter. You’ll get nothing but a rag dear brother.”

The kingdom they flew to now had always been secretive within itself, and word rarely left it’s shores. The only thing anyone really knew is they had an army of soldiers that had yet to be conquered, who wore gold armor and spoke in ancient whispers.

He is snapped out of his haze as Rhaenyra signals to land, and Aemond takes a moment to rejoice in the feeling of his feet on soil, focusing on that the entire hike up to the castle with his mothers arm now looped into his as Vhagar and the ship are left at the docks.

“Don’t be nervous.” Alicent Hightower whispers, reaching a hand to swipe at his cheek, humming in discontent before licking the pad of her thumb and swiping his cheek once more. He groans, trying to pull back.

Even if she meant well he knew his mother never understood how painful the skin near his eye was. The scar was always pulling and swollen, not to mention how hard the eye was to clean if the patch moved even the slightest bit.

“I hear she’s beautiful.” Lucerys offers, keeping close to his own mothers side. “You saw her painting!”

Indeed Aemond had, and like a lovestruck fool he had stared at it for hours until it was time to go. The very painting now sat in his chambers, waiting to be hung for after the wedding…. If there was to be a wedding.

His chest tightens as the castle steps come into view, multiple figures dressed in their finest clothes standing among them.

In the front, in the most ridiculous frille of red and gold, stood the king. A smug smile laced on his features as an overly large crown stands on his head. Beside him with her arms crossed primly was a younger woman, wearing a smaller tiara of red rubies and a busty gown that he was sure Aegon would have leered at, smiling from ear to ear.

The king and his 5th wife then, and behind him a bit to the left on an upper step, had to be Verlain. The hand to the king.

Two more figures a bit further up, one clad in a light blue dress, rubbing at her stomach softly as she watched with nothing more than a nervous expression. Making eye contact with Aemond for just a moment before her face goes red and she looks away, disgust at himself rising in his chest.

What will my future wife think? He wonders, panic clawing at his throat. Will she refuse me? Will I truly be so ugly?

Before he can take a closer look at the boy beside the pregnant woman he looks over to…. You. Standing a little further to the right of the rest, obviously not really knowing where else to go, with a veil covering your face and wearing a gown of black and red. The long petticoat skirts held within your hands, the long bell sleeves barely covering your hands and the cape connected to the back of the dress making you look every bit pristine.

The first thing he notes is the lack of jewelry. No rings, no crown or tiara, no bracelets. An odd thing since the rest of your family was completely adorned with anything they could find.

“Queen Rhaenyra.” The king smiles, bowing his head the slightest inch, a fact that has both Aemond and Damon straightening. A slight to Rhaenyra, he was sure. “And her traveling companions. We welcome you.”

Aemond risks another look to you as Verlain extends a hand to help you descend the stairs. He can’t hear anything of what anyone is saying as he watches you, heart thumping through his chest at your every movement.

“-and this is my daughter.” The king mumbles out, his tone tightening at the phrase daughter as you bow gracefully, neck going low as you curtsy need to Rhaenyra then greet the rest of the party in correct order. Before he could say anything you lift the veil and his breath catches.

The oil painting did you no Justice. And within moments he found himself yearning to trace his fingers over your cheek as he had done to the painting to see how the softness would compare.

“And this is my brother, Aemond Targaryen. First of his name, rider of the great Vhagar and-“

“It is an honor.” The king interrupts Rhaenyra, your cheeks tinging with blush as your jaw tightens. You must know your father is being disrespectful then, and at least one of you has the decency to be embarrassed.

“As much as I love flattery,” he begins, not tearing his eyes from you. “I’d prefer if you showed my sister more respect. Last person to disrespect her so had his head sliced through the middle.”

Daemon has the audacity to check his nails for dirt as Rhaenyra sends him a knowing look, his mother tightening her hold on his elbow in approval before moving to you.

“It is an honor to meet you.” She holds out both hands, which you calmly place your own above as you watch her, and Aemond sees the skepticism glint in them. The narrowing of them as your nose scrunches. “Your beauty was surely understated. Don’t you agree Aemond?”

“Indeed. But to be fair I don’t think any painting or letter would ever do you justice.” You don’t say anything, merely bow your head in feigned shyness while the crowned woman behind you speaks up.

“They say she has her mothers complexion.” She giggles loudly, and your spine tightens quickly. “May the child be blessed with the one good thing about her-“

“You’ve had a long journey. I’m sure your hungry and we still some final touches on this alliance. I trust you find my daughter to your liking?” There that tone is again, like he is disgusted to call you his daughter.

“Of course. We accept the marriage proposal, let’s feast and forge out the rest of the details.” Rhaenyra nods, allowing Daemon to help her up the stairs as the king leads them inside.

Aemond is torn between offering his mother his arm or you, desperate to touch you but not wanting to seem like the type to leave his mother.

Lucerys is there, offering his arm and drawing the first actual smile from you, a wave of anger filling Aemond at the sight. “Might I escort you to dinner?”

“You may escort me up the stairs, but unfortunately it would be improper for me to join dinner.” His mother snaps her attention to that, watching you as closely as Aemond already had been while Lucerys leads you up the steps.

They both watch as you look in the opposite direction of where you are walking, keeping your face turned away from one particular spot.

“Is that…. Blood?” His mother gasps, and Aemond can do nothing but stare at the large stain of it, blinking slowly as the sun hits the dial at the top of the staircase.

It was clear that this had been set up as a stage at some point, the message still stained into the earth.

He doesn’t answer his mother, instead he helps her up the steps as he follows the rest of the group.

He was angry. It was the only thing he could register, the anger. The rest of it was numb, the blade that took his eye had made sure of it. No love, no happiness, no remorse. He just felt anger.

It burnt through his throat until he had no choice but to scream, tore through his chest like acid as he raged to relieve some of it, his sword swinging at anything he could.

The posts on his bed were the first to have been attacked, the broken canopy it once held brutalized and torn in the corner. The desk was next and he even took a hot poker from the fire to shatter the mirror in one swift move.

Every move was sheer force, every yell was an attempt to ease him, every slam of his fist and kick of his feet an instinct he could not fight.

Where was the justice?

People avoided looking at him now, whispers following him everywhere he went. Females outwardly laughed and gasped at him, acting as if he was a demon that had clawed from the shadows.

“Aemond.” Alicent tries, her hands folded against her dress as she watches her son rage within the walls of his room, feeling useless. He was in pain and there was nothing she could do. “Aemond please.”

“I DONT WANT TO BE HERE! THEY THINK IM A MONSTER!”

“Aemond-“

“KILL ME! KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME!” He rages, picking up the sword once more as she takes a step back, the tears falling from her eyes. She knows he would never, he was forged from steel itself, but the fear consumes her as she calls for Cole. Sobbing.

“Help him.” She pleads, hearing the old dragon roar in the distance as Aemond shatters under the pressure.

“It hurts.” The boy sobs, falling into the glass of his once mirror. “It won’t stop hurting!”

Cole nods, without a word he heaves the boy up, dragging him out and across the glass until they clear the room. His grip is brutal, even Aegon tries to stop them when they pass him in the hall.

“Where are you taking my brother?” He snaps, standing straight, the soberest Aemond has ever seen him.

But Cole doesn’t answer, and when Aemond trips the armor pinches into his skin as he is hefted back up until they make it to the training yard.

“You want to die? Earn it.” Cole snaps, picking up a sword. He doesn’t warn his strike, Aemond barely has a second to dodge as the blade swipes at him, falling to the mud quickly.

The wetness of it seeps into his clothes, staining them as his fingers dig in to crawl to the weapons to defend himself.

He remembers the feel of the earth in that moment, latching on to that anger once more as he stands to fight.

You weren’t allowed at the feast, a fact that Aemond finds suspicious as his Uncle moves around the room with his hand on his sword ready for an attack, making eye contact with each servant there. Everyone was on edge, this entire ordeal one that screams trap.

“Might I ask why the bride will not be joining us?” Rhaenyra breaks the silence, fixing herself in the chair given, nodding to the rest of her party to sit as well.

“After the events of her mother…. It’s better if she doesn’t join us.” The king answers, casting a look to Daemon. “She mourns her mother. Taken too soon from an illness.”

The air around them turns pungent, the sign of a lie fallen flat. Lucerys casts him a side look, his thick eyebrows pinched together in confusion as the king raises a glass to toast.

“To the blessed union of our families.” Everyone raises their own glasses before taking a sip, but not Aemond, he sets his glass down and looks around the room some more while the conversation is struggling to be picked back up.

“Those are lovely pearls.” Alicent tries, doing her best to ease some of the tension.

“Oh thank you.” The young queen giggles, leaning forward. “It’s out of fashion out here ever since-“

The king slams his hand upon her own, a bang emanating from the wood. She flinches, but tries to smile through it and Aemond feels a rage fill him as he imagines you having to do the same thing before. Is that why you chose not to eat with them?

“Pearls are…. Out of fashion out here.” Your sister fills in the silence, “the woman at the court tend to avoid them.”

“Speaking of.” Verlain smiles. “I have some things packed and ready to be transported. Gifts from the royal family to yours as a part of the arrangement. To be presented on the wedding day.”

“I just hope there will be room for all of us aboard that ship of yours.” The king smiles, though Aemond sees right through it.

“I can assure you it’s quite big. What a lonely ride it was here, while the others rode dragons. I am looking forward to the company on the way back. I do hope the bride fares well in the sea.”

“I believe my sister to be excited for it.” The pregnant once smiles, the first real smile from this table.

Aemond says nothing, picking up his goblet and draining the liquid in one easy go. Even the wine here tasted shit. Lucerys laughs under his breath when a pig is set on the table and when Aemond turns to glare thinking the jest is to him he finds that the young queen was using her cutlery to check her appearance.

He leans closer, Lucerys following his lead. “I hope that my future bride is not too attached to her family. For if I have to spend a second past the wedding with them I might just-“

Alicent slaps his shoulder quickly, making him sit up as Lucerys snickers. Whether he got to finish his sentence or not the message had been delivered.

She spent the last month of her life trapped in a tiny room, with nothing but a bed and a small window barred to keep her in. Her chamber pot was changed once a week and she was allowed one handmaiden.

But she tried not to let it craze her, pouring herself into preparations for the future ahead of her. Everyday followed the same routine.

In the morning she was brought to a chapel within the castle where the minister would pray with her, and every morning he would ask her if she had any sins she’d like to pray forgiveness for. She never did, for she remained adamant that she did nothing wrong. And she could withstand the scalding look the man gave her each time for his opinion did not matter, she knew her truth.

She spent the days seeing, ordering dresses and adjusting them. Day after day. Ordering dress after dress, a small gift her lord husband had allowed her. If she were to die then at least she would die well dressed.

But the dresses weren’t for her, she didn’t pour over every stitch for herself and she didn’t hem each one to perfection for her own vanity, for she knew the second this was over for her that her daughters life would be ruined.

She would prepare as much as she could for her daughter, she was a mother and she would not fail her even in her last moments.

Meanwhile you begged and pleaded for her back, crying into your sisters arms as she held you, rocking you back and forth.

Your father hadn’t come to see you since she was taken, and you weren’t allowed at court, soon enough even your sister was denying visits. Left alone with your handmaiden until the fateful day.

Verlain, one of your fathers men, came to the door and excitement filled you when you saw him. He had always been so kind and often stole sweets for you when no one was looking, but that morning he didn’t smile.

“I thought she might want one more friendly face with her.” He explains to the handmaiden, who has tears in her eyes as she nods. She pulls you away and prepares you, lacing your corset and dressing you in black before taking your hand and leading you through the halls.

“Are we going to see-“

“Shhh. Don’t say a word.” Verlain warns, trying to keep his voice soft. “Not today little lamb.”

You nod, reaching to grab his hand as well as they lead you to the courtyard. You remain in the back, with a good view of the steps, still holding both their hands.

Your mothers group of handmaidens stood to the side of the steps, all looking worried and most with tears falling down while someone hisses at Verlain.

“You brought her kin?!”

“The king demanded she be here.” Verlain answers back, something like grief crossing his face. “To witness.”

And witness you did.

You remember it well, the silent scream that clogged your throat and the way you tried running for her. You had fallen when Verlain pulled you back, your fingers digging into the mud as you tried to crawl to her with all your strength as the blood poured down.

After you had been dragged, kicking and screaming, to your chambers you’d been thrown in by the guards. The first person allowed access to come and see you had been your mothers main handmaiden, one you hadn’t seen at the execution, who you would later learn had reported your mother falsely.

She did not hug you, she did not coddle you. The only thing she asked was “your mothers necklace? Have you any idea where she hid it?”

You told her no, still crying, feeling betrayed.

She left soon after.

A week after that you were forced to kneel before your father as he stripped you of your title and your lineage. “You are her daughter and nothing more. A bastard in the eyes of the faith and the crown.”

You sobbed and begged him not to, crying over and over “papa!”

He screamed at you, slapping you across the cheek so hard you sprawled across the stone.

That night, your last night in the castle, you sat by a singular burning candle as an unknown phantom gently traced the bruise, singing softly to you as you waited for your mother to appear to you.

If there was anyone who would use your gift you were sure it would be her.

But she never came, and you were sent away, and soon the castle was scrubbed of her memory.

Your last night there was spent exactly the same as years ago, a fresh bruise adorning your cheek from your fat- his majesty, and you sitting by a candle and waiting for her. Silently pleading for her ghost to appear.

“Come on mother.” You whisper, waiting. “Just one more time before I meet you in the afterlife. Please.”

She does not show, and when the sun begins to rise you are escorted from your rooms down to the docks were your luggage was being loaded.

“Is this all you have?” Lucerys, the name he introduced himself with yesterday, asks and you nod.

“Not much is provided for Basta- for brides to be.” He takes your lie, smiling before you curtsy and allow him to run and catch up with his mother and father.

“I hope you will be okay with entertaining my mother for the journey.” An even voice fills the silence, your heart lunging through your chest as you turn to see the prince. You thought he was gorgeous, desperate to reach a hand out and see what was under the patch.

You refrained of course.

He, however, seemed unable to control himself as he brought a hand up to the bruise on your cheekbone. His fingertips tracing over it ever so lightly.

“How does he have black hair?” You ask, desperate to get the topic away from your cheek before it can even start.

“It’s…. A long story.” He huffs, a small smile playing at his lips. “Might I escort you to your chambers on the boat.”

He holds out a hand for you to take, and for a moment a pitch of fear fills you. Don’t look don’t look don’t look.

But you can’t stop yourself from turning to those steps, and seeing the blood among them for the last time. Once you’re gone that’s all that will be left of her memory, and that tears a hole through your soul.

She shouldn’t have to be alone here, but you were sure that you would find her soon enough, there was no way you would ever survive the Targaryens. It was the only reason your father would ever bother to accept this at all.

So, ignoring the white haired god beside you, you turn fully to the steps and bow properly. “Until we meet again.”

Your tears sink into the dirt, in the exact spot you once crawled, and when a breeze hits your cheek you can do nothing but lift your head to see her. Standing at the top of the steps, bowing back to you.

Tears fall quicker, and your throat stings from it as you turn to grab the princes still outstretched hand, and as the last remnants of the second queen fade the last memory of her is lead away to the docks, clutching the lost necklace tightly in the pocket of a dress she once sewed.

And you know, that just as your mother once did, you would meet your fate with your head held high.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. They cannot break me.

But you hadn’t quite known what Kings Landing had in store for you, no one had expected it really.

(It's been a minute since I wrote something like this and this is the first time in months that writing hadn't felt like a chore. I hope you enjoy it!)

Part 2.... maybe?

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