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thebadboyfanclub · 9 months

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I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

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cassie48 · 2 months

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𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

King Hal x fem reader.

A/N: In which the king isn’t happy with how his wife, the queen is treated.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(

You were chosen to be queen. Hal himself wanted you. But, in some ways, a lot of ways actually, you felt you weren’t meant to be a queen. You were very quiet and innocent, to scared to correct someone or stand up for yourself.

Now, Hal was always there to stand up for you, he was really very protective of you. He threatened men that mocked you, and declared to the people of England that you were his wife, and that they must accept that.

On this particular day, you were sat on a bench in a secluded area of the gardens, hiding from everyone, crying. Earlier that day there had been an incident, leading you to hide away from your husband and those he would send to look for you.

You had been on a stroll, earlier that day. You often went on strolls when Hal would have meetings. On this particular morning, you bumped into a man that served Paul. He was a sort of advisor and helped him stay in order. George, was his name.

You had never really warmed to him, as he constantly made you uncomfortable. He would send you odd looks, when Hal wasn’t looking, sometimes in places that no man but Hal should be looking.

“Sorry George” You said looking at the ground.

“Oh it’s fine your majesty, it’s my fault” he said with a disgusting smirk.

“Do you know where Hal is?” Your sweet voice said, wanting to see your husband.

“He’s busy right now” he told you.

You nodded turning to continue on your walk, when his voice continued.

“I could accompany you, you know” George said not even bothering to address you respectfully.

“Oh, it’s fine, really” you said going to turn.

“Are you sure, I’d like to” he said, clearly wanting you to agree to go with him.

“No really, it would be…improper” you said, with a polite smile, trying to leave.

But, to your shock, he grabbed your upper arm roughly, tracing his finger over your body.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the improper girl” he whispered, his fingers sickly travelling all over you.

“W-What?” You said your voice trembling, pulling back slightly, but it didn’t work.

“The men talk, say that you’ve been quite 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳” he said with a menacing smile.

This was when you lost it, you stared to ball your eyes out, ripping yourself away from his hold, running off to hide in the gardens, crying as you did, that’s where you found the little bench.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.

At that same time, Paul was leaving his meeting room, going to see you in your chambers. This was a daily routine for him, he truly loved him.

But a scowl made its way on his face when you weren’t there. “Where is the queen?” He yelled at the servants in the room.

“We, aren’t sure, your majesty” a man answered staring at the ground in fear.

“Is it not your job to take care of her when I’m not?” He yelled rage dripping from his voice as he grew more worried.

“Find her” he demanded with a cold voice.

They all scrambled, running in all directions to search for you, fearing for their lives if they didn’t.

Around an hour later, there was still no sign of you, Hal was getting very impatient. So he went to look for you himself.

He knew your favourite places in the castle and he knew one of which was the gardens, so he made his way there. He had searched almost all the gardens, until her heard a soft crying.

Hal eventually found you on that bench, as soon as he saw you, he was 𝘔𝘢𝘥.

“My love? What’s wrong?” He asked as he sat on the bench too, placing you on his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, continuing to cry loudly into his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

You nodded your head no and hugged onto him tighter, as the tears fell down your face.

“Love, you have to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it” he said kissing your head.

“It was…g-george” you cried.

“What about 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦?” He said, his face suddenly becoming cold.

“He, he said I was an improper lady! And h-he was touching me Hal” you hiccuped.

Hals phase froze in anger and shock. George was in the room when Hal first threatened everyone about going near his wife. He made it very clear she was to be shown respect. George was one of his most trusted men. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“I’ll deal with him, this won’t happen again” he said kissing your hand.

You eventually lifted your head from his chest, as he wiped your tears from your cheeks.

“C-Can we go for a walk?” Your gentle voice asked.

“Of course, anything for you” Hal answered lifting her off his lap onto the ground, and taking her hand in his.

They walked the grounds talking about everything and anything, happy to be in each others company.

You hugged his side, yawning, suddenly becoming very tired.

“Do you want to retire” he said, his arm around your waist.

You only nodded in response, and you both headed back to your chambers.

He ordered the maids to run a bath for you, before kissing you softly, telling you he had something to take care of, and he’d be back later.

Around one hour later, you lay in the bath, the bubbles covering your naked body, and your eyes closed, enjoying the heat.

The door swung open to reveal your husband once more, but this time with blood on his hands.

“Hal?” Your little voice squeaked.

“It’s not my blood, I only took care of something that needed to be handled” he said sitting beside you, and giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You nodded, your eyes heavy as you leaned into his touch. You yearned to be in bed.

Hal caught onto this, and ordered the maids to help you prepare for bed, and get into your nightdress.

“What did you do to him, George I mean” you whispered, playing with your fingers.

Hal smiled before saying “I taught him a lesson” and giving you a long kiss, and bidding you goodnight.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭,

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯.

A/n

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ve been wanting to write for Hal for some time now so finally I did!!

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #prince hal #king hal #henry v x reader #2024 #dune 2024 #paul atreides #timmy chalamet #the king 2019

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justawriterofthings · 2 months

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Paying Pet a Visit

TW: 18+ pure smut. some degradation at the end. the king of overstimulation.

word count: 2,240

Author's note: I don't think i'll ever know when to stop. sorry it didnt turn out to be just a one shot.

*this is a second part to Mater's Little Pet but can be read alone.

Sukuna kept you in his domain for much of your time and it was just as much your choice as it was his. Though he’d like to think it was only because he “commanded it.” You weren’t mad at this either, he kept you quite entertained. Since your creation he spoiled the shit out of you, he wanted to make sure you never had a dull moment. The man was glued to your side when he wasn’t off doing whatever the hell it was he did as King of Curses. You never questioned; it didn’t matter to you. However, you did question occasionally if he had made you that way or you somehow developed your own thought process. These thoughts only ever lasted for a moment though, you were too content to think about the why. You thought best to live in the moment.

“How’s my pet?” Sukuna strolled through the doors, commanding the attention of the room right away was his style. He never had to make much effort in it. He exuded power, so one couldn’t help but look.

“Master!” You jumped from you spot at your little desk, meeting to greet him. He showed you a new book before casting it aside. He clearly had other plans today. “How were your travels? Thank you for the gift. Master, I was practicing what you taught me yesterday-“ You paused, unsure of how to actually explain any more. “Just look!” You held out your small slender fingers, red energy slowly started to flow from the tips down to your wrists then up to your elbows. Focusing on the doorknob behind him, just barely visible behind his broad frame. You flicked your wrist out in its direction, then melted it clean off the door, the wooden frame getting charcoaled in the process.

“Look at that.” He praised, with a smirk not paying any thought to anything you’d said up until then. Giving you a slow clap as he sauntered over to you. The man was practically undressing you with his eyes. He definitely had something on his mind, and it was making your core flutter in anticipation.

“I’ve also been reading more; I think that’s what I really needed to get these damn words out instead of them all just jumbled all up in my brain. It feels good to finally have a conversation with you, master.” You sighed, falling back onto the small sectional sofa you asked to be put in the room you shared with him.

The long red silk robe you wore fell open and exposed your breasts slightly. Sukuna went rabid. He was straddling you, either knee pinning you in place. His hands ripping open your robe completely. The sound of a small tear of the ties caused you to frown lightly.

“I’ll get you another.” He waved it off, it was a casualty of living with him. You couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t literally ripping your clothes off of you. Your tits free, he was on them instantly. His hands kneading your tender mounds, he leaned his head down and started to bite and lick one, and then the other. Making sure to pay equal attention to both. When his bites started to get rougher you gently guided his head up so that you were facing one another. Your warm hands cupped either side of his face as your thumbs outlined his markings. “At this point you owe me a few.” You chuckled, leaning in and kissing him gently. The energy you emitted, the completely opposite of his, you didn’t need to be so harsh and needy with your advances, after all he wasn’t going anywhere.

Your gentle pace was rejected though as he pressed his lips to yours, teeth crashing as his tore his own clothes away. “Always so rough, master.” You giggled when you could get a breath in. Your hands flew right down to his throbbing cock the moment it was free and he couldn’t make you speed up your pace even if he tried. You were very much into taking your time after he so eagerly showed you he felt the opposite. He knew this about you, it drove him mad. When Sukuna fucked you it was always deprived and rough. A few times you attempted to get him to slow his pace, just to see if he would enjoy, it but he never slowed long enough for it to even count as trying. When he wanted something, he took it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, watching you closely with a hunger that made you shudder in anticipation. “Showing you how much you mean to me, master.” You cooed, sliding down off the sofa and on to your knees, motioning for him to sit in front of you. “Don’t you dare try to speed up either. Just let me do my thing, okay?” You asked, with all the seriousness you could muster, and knowing full well he wasn’t going to listen. But he simply nodded in response, his hand gesturing to his impressive member, twitching and waiting for you.

“Get to it.” He commanded, propping his chin up with his hand waiting patiently.

Maybe he will listen to me this time. You thought as you pushed your hair back, not wanting it to get in the way. Sukuna’s had was fisting it up in a mess on your head before you could try to actually pull it back. His fingers digging in a little to make you wince. His sadistic smile plastered on his face told you he was indeed not going to listen to you again.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you did as you were told and stuck out your tongue to lick from his base to his tip, ever so slowly. Once your lips were near his tip, you swirled your tongue around a bit before suckling just the tip again. His hips jerked up to try to get you to fully take him but you pressed your hands down on his hips, stopping him. He let out a frustrated growl at your action, but didn’t try again. He let you continue with a moan of defeat.

You gave him a light pat on the thigh to show your gratitude for not trying again and sucked him down to the base as a reward. You felt him forcefully suck in a breath as you did so. Letting out an exasperated “fuuuuck” on his exhale. His little noises and grunted curses drove you wild. You in turn let out a whimper of your own at the sound of his pleasure. Just hearing him make those noises because of you could make you come undone almost instantly.

The hand fisting your hair tightened as he pushed your head down, guiding you at his own paces with a maniacal chuckle. As you suspected, it didn’t last long. You eagerly took all of his cock with every thrust . Gurgles and moans of ecstasy muffled through your drool and precum dripping lips.

He didn’t let you continue however, before he was pulling you up and bending you over the back of the sofa, your most intimate parts exposed. His fingers not taking any time before they were inside you. Curling to hit your spot every time, he knew exactly where it was and he loved overstimulating you that way. It didn’t take you long before you were on the edge, he was so in tune with you, the slightest clench made him pull back.

“Not yet.” He snarled, giving you only a second to register his comment, then his fingers were three knuckles deep again. “If you fucking cum, you’re going to regret it.” His voice was dripping with venomous arousal. Adding another digit, he did not relent until you were trembling again. Right on that edge he pulled his fingers out of your wet cunt with a slick pop. You whined at the loss, wiggling your ass in hopes that’d be enough of a bribe to give you what you wanted. He simply slapped it in response. The loud smack definitely left a mark. You let out a yip at the unexpected contact.

“Not going to work.” He tsked. You thought for a moment that he probably knew your plans before you even did.

Before you could make any sort of comment, his fingers were back inside you, but now you felt the hot tickle of his breath. “Pulling out all the tricks, my king?” You purred at the thought of him greedily eating you out. You clenched tightly around his fingers again at the thought. This time though, he didn’t pull them free but continued to increase his pace and pressure. “Ah ah, don’t you dare fucking cum.” His words vibrated against your throbbing pussy. The arousal in his voice sending you over the edge, screaming as hot liquid flowed into his waiting mouth, his fingers still working your desperately sensitive bundle of nerves. “What did I just say?” He asked between licks, cleaning up every last drop of the mess you just made.

You had no words, only incoherent babbles as your face heated in embarrassment and pure bliss.

When he finally pried his face off of you, his fingers went back to work. His other hand firmly gripping your hip. “For not listening.” He growled, his pace just as fast. He wasn’t giving you any time to rest and this had you melting into oblivion.

It didn’t take long to be right on the edge again. This time he did pull his fingers away but it was only for a second and then he was balls deep with a grunt. You let out a surprised and very lewd sounding “fuuck” through a wince, having no time to adjust to his girth.

Three hard thrusts was all it took before you were seeing stars and coming undone beneath him again. “Pet, what did I tell you.” He started up his pace, not giving you any moment of rest as you came around his cock. Trembling and mumbling on incoherent curses as he continued his onslaught on your slick hole. Weightless in his arms he was able to flip you on to your back on the couch, his hands pinning you down at the hips as he continued his onslaught on your pussy. “I wanted to see your pretty eyes roll back into your pretty skull.” His voice being what sent you over this time; cumming again, this time almost pushing his cock out from the force of your release. His fingers ground into your hips as he continued, not letting up on his pace. “You think you can try to push me away?” His fingers were gripping so deep his nails were drawing blood. “I’m not fucking done.”

You tried shaking your head no to answer him, the only sounds escaping you now were moans and screams of pure bliss. “Yes, fucking scream for me. Louder now, little slut.”

Your eyes flew open, that was new. You liked that. Your grinned like a god damn fool at the new, albeit degrading nickname.

“You like that? You are a slut, only suits you’d like being called one.” His merciless pounding of your overstimulated cunt paired with the new dirty talk was really doing its number on you. Exhaustion creeping in over the pleasure. “Ah, not until I’m finished. Then you can sleep all you want.” He slowed then, that got you focused on him now, pushing back any hint of exhaustion you felt.

“That got you.” He laughed, his thrusts now deliberate and hard. Balls deep every time, hitting your g spot. They weren’t fast but they weren’t painfully slow either. He was truly going the pace you strived for. One your love struck brain compared to “making love” and not just the ruthless fucking he was so in to.

Your cunt so tight around him, he was being just as loud, if not louder than you now. “Milk my fucking cock.” He grunted, continuing the pace that had you trembling beneath him, “that’s it. Fucking cum for me again.”

You did, screaming his name as you gripped him arms and rode out your release on his cock. This action sent him over the edge. The act of you using his cock, grinding on him that way had him cumming inside you. Gasping as you felt his hot thick load coat your walls. The pair of you moaning as your releases synchronized.

He stayed inside you. “Not wasting a drop.” He murmured in your ear nibbling your ear lobe and down your neck. He thrusted lazily a few times before pulling out completely. You sighed at the loss. Though now exhaustion hitting you like a freight train you were ready to pass out right there. Sukuna saw your eyes drifting and decided to pick you up and place you in bed. To do this though, he threw you over his shoulder then threw you back first on to the mattress. With a nod that he had done his job sufficiently, he left you to rest. You heard the door lock behind you as he left. He fixed the doorknob just to lock it. You snickered and shook your head at the albeit controlling action. You knew it was so no one could get in, rather than you not getting out. The thought of the sentiment plastered a grin on your face as you drifted in to a well-deserved nap. Post release bliss and fatigue knocking you out like a light.

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majordemonblockparty · 1 month

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au where sam goes along with the demon blood drinking 'cause he figures if anyone can grant clemency in hell, it oughta be the boy king of the fucking place.

cue full-on yellow-eyed juiced-up rightful prince of hell sam winchester who has spent the past four months picturing how he'll pour into the depths of hell with legions of demons and hellhounds at his beck and call to break his brother out of whatever implement of torture he's been strung up in... except that when he gets there, dean's unbound, unfettered, up on his own two feet with a knife in his hand, and doesn't even notice sam right away. he's dialed in, laser-focused on peeling back the skin of what might've once been a person with all the care of a shearer going after a sheep, everything from his face (oh, god, his face, his dear face; last time sam saw that face he was nailing pine boards over top of it after he'd closed the eyelids and wiped it free of blood and salt and kissed that cold, still mouth and--) to his bare feet spattered in abattoir-floor gore.

(in the end, sam's never entirely sure how he gets dean's attention -- whether he calls his name, or chokes on a sound trying to be words, or if something inside him deeper than a soul screams out for dean -- but there's a knife in dean's hand and blood on the blade when he turns to sam.)

dean just stares at him for a second, that still, cool, animal look he gets sometimes on a hunt; all predator, 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for I am the meanest sonovabitich in the valley' kind'a look that makes the hair at sam's nape stand on end. then dean's face contracts all at once -- eyes narrow, lip curls, jaw tightens -- as he turns on his heel and flings his knife into the chest of the -- man? demon? demon, gotta be; nothing still human wears a face like that -- standing just out of arm's reach.

"thought we had an agreement," dean snaps, gravel-scrape low at the bottom of his register, like he's been sick but won't admit it for weeks on end. (or screaming. like he's been screaming, a lot, for weeks. or months, maybe. but maybe not; sam's been wrong before.) "no more projections, no more games. we agreed."

the demon puts his hand to the hilt of dean's knife, still buried in his chest cavity, and sam can't have that, can't have an armed demon within throwing distance of deandeandeandeandean, and all he has to do is think about it -- not even really think, not anything so complicated as holding the words or the image of it in his brain; just the intention behind the thought is enough to send the knife jerking out of the demon's grasp and slapping handle-first into sam's open palm.

the demon doesn't laugh, exactly, but his face stretches into what might be the memory of a grin; all teeth, no smile. "we did, and I have not thus far reneged on our agreement, boy. if I'm not mistaken, that's the genuine article; sam winchester, in the flesh. and what pretty flesh it is, too. goddamned succulent."

"hey!" dean barks, "knock it off." that habitual, spine-up, big brother voice that's been part of sam's life since before he can remember. "quit talking about his fucking... flesh." he says 'flesh' in a tone people usually reserve for words like 'fascism' and 'gangrene' and sam's chest aches for the dean-ness of it.

for a second, like a hologram or a magic-eye puzzle, sam sees dean. dean disarticulated, splayed out like a frog pinned to a dissection board, chest cut open, organs scooped out and toyed with and put back wrong. bones rent from their joints, eyes ripped from their sockets, fingers broken one knuckle at a time, nails torn from their beds in a bloody little pile. pieces cut off and waiting for their white waxed paper wrappers; bloody red pieces of flank, ribs, leg, shoulder.

"dean."

(he doesn't say his brother's name so much as he breathes it, horror and relief and delight and longing all shading his tone.)

the look on dean's face is like missing the bottom step of the staircase in the dark. he looks at sam like he hasn't seen him in a hundred years. he looks at sam like he saw him yesterday, the very last thing he saw, sam's face inches from his when his pupils blew out, the fine muscles inside his eye relaxing as his brain and heart and lungs all stopped working.

"sam?"

#dean winchester #sam winchester #cw gore #boy king of hell sam winchester #headcanons & other nonsense #she speaks #supernatural #spn fanfic #the brothers winchester #alistair

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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“ʟᴀᴅʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ.” | ʀ. ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ

Not my GIFs!

Robb Stark x Tyrell!Reader

summary: A request for something fluff with Robb Stark!

word counts: 1.8k

warnings: kind of protective!Robb, fluff, more fluff, first-time pregnancy, a bit of angst, but really just a hint

author’s note: I’m really happy about my first request (and work) for Robb because he was my first GoT love :D But I’m not really happy with how this one turned out, so I am really sorry. The next one hopefully will get better! Edit: I just saw that tumblr messed up with my writing, so I edited it!

The puffing breaths of the black horse condensated in the cold air around her, the sound of heavy hooves sinking into the soft ground of the forest floor was the only sound echoing through the tall-growing trees around Winterfell. It was always peaceful out here, which was such a stark contrast to the busyness within the walls of the castle that YN loved to escape from time to time. She loved her life up here, as Lady of Winterfell, far from her former home where she was as useless as a pretty bush of roses.

Growing up in Highgarden, down in the Reach, had been pleasant but never fulfilling. As the eldest daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell and younger sister to Willas Tyrell, her father’s heir, she had nothing else to do but marry an old, lazy lord and continue and secure his unsuccessful lineage. Her father never had a high aim for his eldest daughter, even though her grandmother Olenna always had a greater future planned for the Golden Rose of Highgarden—in her grandmother’s eyes, she had been the perfect match for a king or prince. Olenna never wanted to waste her precious granddaughter to a low lord as her imbecile of a son had in mind. Instead, the Queen of Thorns had managed to secure an alliance with the North, and the match had been, luckily, a love match. It had taken time, but the instant sympathy and attraction from both had been a reliable support for a blossoming romance.

It certainly had helped that YN was quite fond of the winter and cold.

The sudden sound of heavy paws ripped the woman back into reality, and turning in her saddle, her eyes almost immediately spotted the dark grey dire wolf prowling through the forest, his bright eyes trained on her. Smiling, YN whistled softly, and Grey Wind trotted over the small path and sided with her on their slow way back to the castle.

Riding through the gates, the Lady of Winterfell was greeted with respectfully bowed heads by the guards while some of the children waved before getting ushered back to their tasks. Hullen, the master of horse, exited the stables at the sight of his returning lady and walked over to the courtyard. His left hand grabbed for the reins while he extended his right to YN to help her down, but he thought it through and pulled his hand back again. He knew that his lady was more than capable of getting off the horse herself. YN slid off the saddle and down onto the hard ground. “Thank you, Hullen. Treat him with the biggest apple you can find—he deserves it,” the woman smiled while patting the strong neck of her beautiful stallion Robb had gifted her shortly after their wedding. Aden had been her trustworthy companion on her rides ever since.

“Of course, m’lady,” the master of horse said, bowed his head, and led the horse back to the stables. Meanwhile, YN turned around to see Robb striding towards her, the dark fur on his cloak framing his handsome face, his dark curls still a tad tussled from their escapades a few hours prior. Smiling, the former Tyrell waited patiently until he reached her—strong hands enveloping her frame beneath the black cloak she had thrown over earlier, their faces only mere inches apart. “Wife,” he whispered in a greeting before nuzzling his nose against hers. “Husband,” YN returned, smile still on her lips, while her glove-clad fingers tangled themselves in his brown curls.

Softly and lovingly, the eldest Stark son pressed his lips to hers, and YN sighed deeply at the familiar feeling of his kisses, which still ignited a fire in her body, unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. Kissing Robb was always thrilling, always on the brink of satisfaction, and it always made her feel loved and cherished. YN really was grateful for her grandmother’s plans for her very person.

“I was worried,” the Stark mumbled against his wife’s lips before distancing himself a bit to intently eye her face. “Grey Wind was a great companion on our way home.” Robb smiled at her words but soon turned serious again. “You did not overdo it, love?” Softly, YN shook her head while her thumb caressed his cheek tenderly. “We were perfectly safe,” she promised in a whisper and laughed under her breath as the strong, serious man sighed deeply and let his hand rest on her lower stomach where a slight curve had made its appearance several weeks ago—and which kept growing steadily. “I only want you two safe and sound.”

Instead of saying something, YN pulled Robb down at his neck and kissed him with all she had, while his hand kept laying atop his first, still unborn, child.

With pleased looks on their faces stood Catelyn and Ned at the railing circling the walls of Winterfell and watched their firstborn son and first daughter-in-law. “I cannot remember seeing him this happy,” the mother mumbled while Ned held her close. “I am sure he wasn’t before she stepped into his life and turned everything upside down. I know this feeling all too well.” Catelyn looked up to her husband and smiled. “Sometimes it is good to rearrange one’s reality. It certainly didn’t harm Robb.” Ned laughed deep in his chest. “No, it definitely did not. Quite the opposite. Are you happy, Cat?” At her husband’s question, Catelyn looked up again and nodded. “I am. She is perfect for him, he is perfect for her. They await their firstborn, Maester Luwin thinks it will be a pleasant pregnancy judging by the signs so far. My son is happy, and that is all a mother can hope for.”

;

The sound of cracking wood in the grand fireplace accompanied YN in her endeavors to rise from the furred and soft chairs in front of the warm fire in their bedchambers. Suddenly, the door got opened, and Robb entered their room; the sight of his struggling wife pushed a smile on his lips. He closed the door behind him and walked over to her. “You know I can help you with that, love?” His teasing voice tickled a groan out of her, and the pregnant woman gave her attempts up. “This is nothing to laugh about. I’m not even halfway through this pregnancy and already struggling with the easiest tasks—getting out of this bloody chair on my own, for one instance,” she grumbled, and the Stark laughed lightly under his breath before kneeling down in front of his wife.

“I love you,” he told her with the most serious expression. “I love you both.” And with that, Robb bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss on her ever-growing stomach. Her fingers instantly tangled themselves in his soft brown strands, and a smile full of contentment stretched across her lips. “You are lucky you are the most loving husband in all of the Seven Kingdoms. If not, I would have chased you away a long time ago.” Robb grinned up to her and leaned his face further into her hand, which caressed his cheek, his soft beard tickling her skin. “I must be really lucky then,” he mumbled before spreading her legs and pulling his wife to the edge of the chair.

She gasped for air and rested her arms around his neck as Robb held her close and raised to his feet with her in his arms. The man carried her to the fur-covered bed and lowered her onto the soft mattress. “We have a family gathering to attend,” YN reminded the lord, but Robb only climbed over her and situated himself in the furs, pulling her body closer to his by her waist. “They will not die if we miss one dinner.” Her skin muffled his voice as he littered her throat with soft kisses before she pulled his face up.

They stared into each other’s eyes, the blissful atmosphere seeping into every corner of the room, and their body relaxed even more. YN let the tip of her nose brush against his, and Robb sighed, turning into the soft man he always was around his wife.

It still amazed him how his life had turned ever since the Golden Rose of Highgarden had entered it. Before the fateful day of her arrival, Robb Stark had only lived for his family and duty as the firstborn son of Ned Stark and future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He had held objections against marriage as both parents had reached out to him with the suggestion of finding and taking a wife as future Lady of Winterfell. He had never shown any interest in the daughters of the northern houses, and as his mother came to him with a letter from the Reach, he had been… intrigued but still unsure if he was ready to be a husband. But his mother and Lady Olenna had arranged a meeting halfway through the realm, and Robb must’ve been blind if he didn’t feel the attraction towards the woman now lying safely in his arms.

The thought of her in another man’s arms alone made his blood boil, and instantly, his arms enveloped her closer and pulled the woman closer and closer.

“Are you happy?”

Robb’s unsure voice pulled YN out of the daze she had fallen in while almost drowning in his dark, kind eyes, and her brows furrowed tremendously. “Do I seem unhappy? Not content?” She asked in return, now unsure herself. YN never wanted to make the impression of being unhappy up in the north, or as if she wanted to return home to the south, back to the warmth, because quite the opposite was the case. In the four years since their small wedding ceremony in the Godswoods, YN recalled not one single day filled with longing thoughts for her former home.

The Stark barely shrugged and propped himself up on one arm, looming now over her. His other hand softly caressed the soft strands of her hair spreading over the pillows. “I suppose no one ever asked you if you want to be dragged up here in the cold north. A place without the lush gardens of Highgarden, always cold and icy…-“ But YN pressed her finger against his lips to silence him. “Robb,” she whispered tenderly, grabbing his chin in her fingers and stroking over his beard with her thumb. “Do you really believe I would still be here if I were unhappy? That I would have married you and vowed my love in front of your family, in front of the gods?” Robb looked helpless as he shrugged again, and YN smiled up at him while taking his hand from her face and letting it rest on her stomach. “I would not be carrying your child if I wasn’t happy with you in the cold north, with you by my side. I was never this content in my life than here in Winterfell.” A soft grin graced her lips, and Robb sighed, clearly put at ease. “I don’t know where those thoughts came from. Sometimes the things Theon says about you are getting to my head,” the Stark tried to explain himself, but YN only shook her head. “It is all right, my love. And specifically for your mind: You are making me the happiest woman in all of Westeros.”

;

This got really shitty, and I’m super unhappy with it, but the ideas didn’t want to come for another piece, so I went with this one. I’m sorry for even uploading it xD As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

#robb stark x reader #robb stark request #robb stark x fem!reader #robb stark x pregnant!reader #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark fanfic #robb stark blurb #robb stark oneshot #robb stark imagine #robb stark #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones blurb #game of thrones imagine

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yuesya · 8 months

Note

Twinswap v2: Would Sukuna be able to tell that Shiki isn’t Satoru when they fight? He’s scarily insightful after all

Warning: Description of gore/slight body horror.

Looking back on the fight with Gojo Satoru down in that underground station in Shibuya, Choso freely acknowledged that the only reason he and the other Special Grade cursed spirits had survived that encounter at all was due to the regular humans brought in as collateral. They’d all known it, at the time. Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer alive, and in order to bring him low, they needed to resort to unconventional, underhanded means.

If it hadn’t been for Kenjaku –damn that man, for all the suffering he’d caused Choso and his siblings– using Prison Realm to seal Gojo when he did, there’s no doubt that Choso and the other curses would’ve been eventually whittled down one by one.

… He’d always known it, intellectually.

But never had that fact been as obvious as it was now.

Even handicapped by the damage that Prison Realm had done to him, Gojo was still going toe-to-toe against Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. What initially started off as an operation to flush out and kill Kenjaku once and for all had swiftly turned into an unexpected battle between two sorcerers who resembled calamitous gods more than mortals, when Sukuna appeared without any warning.

Choso stumbles when a particularly harsh tremor rips through the ground, grabs his little brother before the boy falls on his face, and continues running.

“Thanks, Choso!”

“Call me ‘nii-chan,’” Choso reflexively corrects Yuji, entirely on automatic. His little brother doesn’t get a chance to respond, though, because suddenly the building next to them crumbles, debris raining down on them like a rumbling avalanche–

It’s a testament to his brother’s hardiness that he makes it through with only a few scratches. Still, Choso can feel his heart pounding –if Yuji had been a second slower avoiding any of those jagged pieces of concrete, propelled with enough force to put literal holes into the ground…

He determinedly shakes the thought out of his mind.

Around them, other sorcerers are also running. Fleeing the fight between the two titans taking place behind them, in order not to get caught up as inadvertent casualties –or unwilling distractions for Gojo, hindrances in every sense of the word. If only Prison Realm hadn’t caused the man to–

“Who are you?”

Sukuna’s growling voice is a low rumble around their ears. And Gojo–

Laughs.

“Y’know, you’re the first to actually ask me that?” The man stretches, then claps his hands together. “Whew, okay. That’s enough for a warm-up, I think! I guess the ‘King of Curses’ really isn’t an opponent to take on while I’m only operating at half capacity.”

Incredulously, Choso glances around the literal field of destruction, where half the surrounding landscape has already been leveled flat, then back towards the insane sorcerer.

Half capacity? Half capacity??

… Wait, what does he mean? Isn’t his Limitless–

“Ho? Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Gojo shrugs, and folds his hands together in a seal in front of himself. “I’m not accustomed to this body, and this body isn’t accustomed to me, either. I’m good with Limitless, but not that good. I’ll need to modify this body a little bit so I can properly use it… mm…”

Cursed energy crackles, and–

Not one to stand by idly while his opponent was clearly preparing something, Sukuna launches another attack, flanked by the Ten Shadows shikigami at his side. Mahoraga, the other sorcerers had whispered. The crown jewel of the Zenin Clan–

Gojo isn’t moving.

Whatever he’s doing that requires so much of his concentration to remain still has him even disengaging his Limitless barrier. The attacks land point-blank, and the air is filled with blood and mangled flesh–

“Gojo-sensei!”

The gory mess of flesh twitches.

Then–

Rises, twisting, binding and pulling itself together into a humanoid shape, but it’s… not right. It’s not right. Muscles and sinews twist over pale white bones, stopping at a height that’s considerably shorter than Gojo’s original form. New skin grows in pale patches, covering the raw red flesh rapidly right before their eyes, except the shape is… petite, curved, and undeniably female.

The thing that was once Gojo Satoru throws its head back, long white hair flowing around its naked body like a river of snow-white silk.

Cursed blue eyes blink open. Dark and eldritch, and most definitely not the Six Eyes.

“Gojo-sensei…?” Yuji takes a small, aborted step forward, retracing his steps towards the direction of his once-teacher, but Choso immediately throws out an arm to stop him.

In hindsight, everything is blindingly clear.

“… That’s not Gojo Satoru,” he says grimly, voice terse.

The thing that rose out of the powerful sorcerer’s body raises its arms. Flexes its hands, and shifts its weight, testing its range of motion.

“Not bad,” it says, bouncing slightly in an almost childish motion.

A woman? Who–?

Sukuna hums, a faintly intrigued sound, despite the drastic turn of events that no one could’ve predicted. Then he opens his mouth, and Choso can feel the way his blood runs cold.

“Your name, cursed spirit?”

A mischievous giggle.

“Gojo Shiki.”

#QA #Writing #zenith of stars au #twin swap au v2 #i took anon's prompt and ran a mile with it #this probably isn't what you had in mind anon #sorry lol

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hootbon · 4 months

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Since I saw someone else talking about their fucked up ideas, I am too lol because I suddenly remebered them. But, pretty much just how my lore making brain decides to look at characters.

Kinger: He’s a king chess piece, obviously. He didn’t have to work for that position, unlike the queen, no chess piece can ever become the king, but a pawn can prove itself and become a queen, in a way. Kinger is now forced to be a lowly magician, because he never had to work for anything on his way up. Cracks from pressure, knowing he didn’t do anything, and now has to make up for it, whist his queen, the one who worked to gain that role, is no longer around

Ragatha: A rag doll, something that is quite literally a toy, old, not many people would chose that sort of doll over the newer kinds. Tossed around, ripped, lost, decapitated— so what? It’s a doll. If the doll breaks, you can just sew her back together again. If she does something wrong, you can watch her unravel in front of your eyes until you decide to stitch her back together again, though no one really cares for fixing her. She can be replaced easily, and so easily broken, used and abused by people endlessly, that’s what she’s made for. If she gets too chatty, you can just take out your thread and needle to shut her up

Pomni: A ballerina, she looks quite beautiful when she dances, she is a living ‘doll’, a puppet. A puppet by the strings, not much she can do, but be there helplessly as the ringmaster tugs them. A puppet, also a doll, are just used by someone else’s hand, she has no control over what they might make her do in the circus, and she never will.

Gangle and Aingle: The two sisters, ‘twins’ even if one of them doesn’t actually exist. A false persona, a forever toxic relationship, in a way. Bound to someone who looks like you, is always around you, but acts nothing like you do, wants to be the opposite of you, in a way. With all that ribbon, Caine could really tie the loose ends of the circus, like the abstraction issue for example…

Zooble: Quite handy with a thread and needle if they do say so themselves. Almost like the druggie of the whole group, they let intrusive thoughts kick in one day and than… they could never have enough. Dysphoric, their body never looked normal anyways in the first place, so it didn’t matter if they took parts of those now gone and tried to use them to fill the void of their own ever ending spiral of lack of self-esteem, right? They never liked the person in the mirror, so they change it every day, it only feels normal to be scavenging the halls after hair raising screams of pain can be heard in the hallway, sewing parts together to make something they enjoyed. A bad habit? Of course not, they never see it that way, they are simply making use of what others never appreciated, and now aren’t around to appreciate

Jax: The fluffy murder set bunny, we all love him. His silly little pranks go from sudden silly string ambushes, to agonizingly terrible ways for any mortal being to die— good thing you can’t! Caine would never let you. He’s just a bunny, a sweet little guy who wants nothing else but to put a smile on your face— well, that’s a lie, all he wants now is to satisfy his needs, and out a smile on his face. What is he thinking? You’ll probably never know, ever since Kaufmo disappeared for a few hours and came back, starting to act differently from normal, Jax acts like it’s the end of the world. Silly Jax, it’s just all fun and games! Kaufmo needed some help, so Caine got our friendly twins to help tie up those loose ends!

…Basically random shit, character design analogies and random ominous comments I thought of on the spot for these guys

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #freakshow au #tadc freakshow #I just think you guys need to hear this

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kriffingstars · 2 years

Text

eddie munson; tiddies (part 2)

previously : 1

paring : eddie munson x female!reader summary : after a drunken evening eddie's name ends up written on your tits. he catches a glimpse in the cafeteria warnings : smut (minors dni), swearing, honestly this is just pure filth

masterlist and taglist

eddie is a mess by the time you drag him through his bedroom door

he has some (limited) experience but because it's you he's a mess

his dreams are quite literally coming true

especially when you fling your top across the room, straddle him, and practically rip your bra off, intent on finishing what you started in the van

he's looking at you with this glazed-over look in his eyes

you're so thankful for that lowcut top currently godknows where

if not for that you'd never know what eddie would look like underneath you

spolier; it's the hottest thing you've ever seen

'i'minlovewithyouandican'tdothisifyoudon'tfeelthesameway'

you blink

eddie blinks

he's so aware that pretty much wasn't english but shit you make him nervous

deep breath...

'i love you,'

and he swear his heart stops beating in the time it takes for you to break out into a smile that could challenge the cheshire cat himself

and his soul almost leaves his body when you grab his face with such vigour that he's a bit worried you might actually pull his ears off

but he meets you halfway

'took you long enough,'

and before he knows it you're kissing him again, lips and teeth clash in between mumbles of i love you's and moans as his strong arms pull you as close as he can

it's all the confidence he needs to flip you underneath him and carry on leaving deep purple marks all over your chest

eddie doesn't even realise you're moaning his name until you tug at his hair just a little bit too hard

have you met this man, he's the king of getting side tracked and now he's purely focused on attacking your neck

wow your perfume is intoxicating

the giggles you let out as his hair tickles your face is something else

of course he's heard it before, and from now in everytime he hears it again he's going to think of you like this, underneath him, hands pulling at his shirt, red in the face, and it's all because of him

'let's take this off'

your words echo his from 20 minutes prior and now his shirt has joined yours on the floor somewhere

his hands are still wandering over your body

your hands are unbuckling his belt

he's practically humming in pleasure as he sucks on your tit right where his name was inked, before working slopping kisses up your chest all the way to your lips

'i think i remember saying i'd let you fuck my tits'

that's all he needs to let out the sexiest groan you've ever heard

and that's how he ends up on his back, his dick between your tits, bucking his hips, hands clenched onto his duvet

'so good, so good, so good for me' he repeats like a prayer as he watches you get off on his pleasure

you can tell he's close, his breathing getting more and more ragged

at this point eddie doesn't think there's anything else in this world you can do or say to make this moment any better

'cum for me baby, want you to cover me, i'm all yours'

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

this man's soul has left his body

head empty, just you

and now you're staring up at him, covered in his cum, smiling as you lick your lips clean

eddie is the king of aftercare, so after catching his breath you can bet he's grabbing a wet flannel to clean you up

this boy has died and gone to heaven because you're tucked into his side, head resting on his chest drawing patterns with your fingers after giving him the best orgasm of his life

he's never letting you go

not that you want him to

@eddiemvunsonss

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #holy hell i've got myself all hot and bothered writing this...#enjoy you degenerates #eddie munson x female!reader

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instarsandcrime · 1 month

Text

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head.

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant.

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!"

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..."

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting.

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?”

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #a/la/stor #char/lie

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imfromthemiddlekingdom · 1 month

Text

When I engage with the Silmarilion fandom it’s always very educational and enlightening no matter what side they’re on regarding Finwe and his sons. But whenever I interact with the HoTD fandom it’s always “you’re condoning XYZ and therefore you’re a horrible person!!!” Or doing mental gymnastics to try to justify whichever atrocities their side committed.

Thematically both stories are quite similar. We can find parallels with Rhaenyra and Feanor but even at his worst (Pulling a sword on Fingolfin, First kinslaying, burning of the ships etc.) Feanor had never put a bounty on a toddler (Rhaenyra stating that Maelor should be bought to her dead or alive causing him to be ripped apart. Like hello??!??? How is that ever a justifiable thing to do???). I can find parallels between Feanor and Rhaenyra, sure. But if I’m honest the parallels stop with them being the only child of a kings first wife who’s father then went on to face four more kids with another women. Finwe is ten times the father Viserys was. And literally none of the kids (Feanor included) would ever take their anger out on their siblings child like we see the so called Maegor come again do.

But I digress, I was talking of the fandom. I may get heated talking about whether Feanor was right in his anger at Indis or whether Fingolfin should’ve absolutely demanded more reparations from the sons of Feanor when he crossed the ice. But I’ve never seen anyone in the Silm fandom saying that someone should die because they had an opinion.

But I’ve seen many instances of HoTD fans threatening rape and death on people who think Alicent is not the monster they portray her as, or that Rhaenyra isn’t as ‘girl boss queen slay!!!’ As people say she is. Maybe it’s because HoTD is a TV show and many of the fans haven’t read the books and therefore don’t understand nuance since the TV show focuses so much on Rhaenyra’s manifest destiny arc that team green gets painted as the ‘ultimate’ villain for our girl boss queen Rhaenyra to ascend to the throne since it’s her ‘birth right’.

Not to mention how the whole made up show canon prophecy to justify colonialism means that team black stans are really showing their true colors on what they think is right. Because guess what? The Silm also has what could be said to be as a colonizing story line with the Noldor coming to Beleriand and settling but most fans agree that the cutting up of Beleriand was very much a colonizing behavior no matter what they think of Thingol.

Point is, most HoTD fans can’t hold and intellectually simulating debate over their characters without feeling like said debater is personally attacking them since their entire personality is so deeply entwined with their fav that a critique on them would automatically equate to a critique on themselves. Therefore making it entirely impossible to have a decent conversation on the thematically very important foils that Rhaenyra and Alicent pose to each other (since they still think a good story must have a black and white view of the protagonist and the antagonist lmao).

Media illiteracy in these fandoms truly is a cancer that spreads to even the most level headed and literate individuals. Pick up a book! Understand themes and how foils are supposed to be written without internalizing criticism of your fav as a criticism of yourself! I don’t get mad when people criticize Feanor, nor do I get mad when people say I’m wrong when it comes to my own interpretation of the statue of Finwe and Miriel. It’s called having a discussion and you can only do that when you’re not on the front lines dying for a fictional character who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire in front of them!!!

#media literacy #hotd #the silmarillion #feanor #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #anti team black stans #anti team black #pro team green #please I’m begging for people in this god forsaken fandom to stop defending a fictional character with your life #cw rape #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti Rhaenyra Targaryen fans #rhaenyra targaryen #as you can see I despair at the lack of reading comprehension skills and media literacy skills most team black stans have #literally head empty only girl boss slay queen omg she’s such a boss bitch!!!!#if you can’t recognize the flaws in your fav character maybe don’t debate their actions online?#like #a character having irredeemable flaws is like half the reason you like them

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niffala · 9 months

Text

Regrets

Pairing: Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve overhears something he was never meant to.

Warnings: all angst, asshole eddie

A/N: No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Main Masterlist

Steve giddily parked his BMW in front of the school. Looking next to him, he ran his hand over the engraved EMSH on the guitar case, imagining the smile it would cause. It almost felt like a dream, finding someone that loved him as much as he loved them. No more lonely movie nights where the only warm thing to hold was the popcorn. His boyfriend looked after him, accepted him, kissed and held him. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Inside the case held all the stuff Eddie would need to take the best care of his sweetheart; new strings, tools, conditioner, polishing oil and cloths. He couldn't wait til Eddie got home, so Steve decided to surprise him by showing up to Hellfire club. He bounced out of his car, practically shaking with excitement because he knew his Eddiebear would love the gift.

He greeted the kids as they came out, mounting their bikes to ride home.

Dustin huffed, "You coulda told us you'd be here. A ride would be appreciated now and then."

"Quit whining. I haul your ungrateful behinds around all the time."

The boy pointed his chin at the item in Steve's arms, "What ya got there?"

Steve protectively held the case tighter, "Just something for Eddie. He still inside?"

"Yep, he's cleaning up the drama room."

Grinning ear to ear, he continued his path to the building. Lifting his arm to wave goodbye to the kids, “Have a good night guys.”

“You too, loverboy.” A chorus of laughter and kissing noises followed as they rode off.

Under different circumstances, Steve would have playfully chased after them for that, but tonight he was on a mission.

Approaching the drama room, he could see Eddie and his friends through the small window. Putting away the game, tucking away the chairs and turning off the stage lighting. Preparing to push the door open, he pauses when he hears his name.

“...No can do. I'm meeting Steve right after this. I can get beers with you guys another time.”

Steve was touched that Eddie made him a priority in his life. His heart began to soar, only to immediately fall at the next words spoken.

Gareth tsked, “Never thought I'd see you and Harrington together. I mean he's such an asshole. Mr high and mighty always thinking he's better than everyone else.”

“He's always been a judgmental douche. Looked down on all of us in high school. Him and his buddies made our lives hell. Don't know how you put up with that arrogant jerk all these months.” Jeff was equally displeased with Eddie’s choice.

Steve’s brows furrowed while listening to Eddie's friends bad mouth him and mock their relationship. He held his breath, waiting for his boyfriend to come to his defense. Instead, Eddie played into it.

The metalhead rolled his eyes dramatically. “I told you guys a hundred times, we aren’t dating, it's just a hookup. I got Harrington wrapped around my finger.”

Emboldened by his friends’ chuckles, Eddie hopped onto the table, sitting with his legs criss crossed and continued. “Seriously the guy is putty in my hands, will do whatever I say. I'm getting what I can out of our arrangement. No feelings involved. Not sure his majesty has feelings anyway.”

“Why put up with him then?”

Eddie shrugged, “Cause he spoils me. Takes me out and buys me things. And you have NO IDEA the POWER I feel having King Steve on his knees just for me. It's addicting.” He scrunched up his face and bit his knuckle suggestively. Feeding off the attention and approval he received. “But not to worry, I'll be ending it soon. I'm starting to get bored. And I'll rip my ears off if I have to listen to his shitty music one more time.”

“Ughhh,” Eddie fell back, staring at the ceiling, “I need it to be over. Been letting it go on for too long. The gifts and the sex are nice and all, but I need something more with someone with a lot more going on upstairs.” He tapped his head to uproarious laughter.

The air around him was too hot. Steve clutched his chest, feeling something breaking deep within him. Unable to swallow the lump in his throat, he couldn’t hear anymore. He ran back to his car, his vision blurry from the hot tears spilling down his face.

‘He doesn't love me, doesn't give a shit about me at all. He'd been using me this whole time. It was all just to humiliate me. Make me fall in love with him so he could break me and have a good laugh with his friends. How could I be so stupid?'

Steve threw the useless present into the backseat, starting the vehicle and pulling out of the lot as fast as he could. The severe pain in his chest made him wish he could rip out his heart and throw it out the car window, watching in his rearview mirror as it exploded on the roadside.

He couldn't recall a single moment of the drive until arriving at Robin's door. By the time she sat him down, he was sobbing so hard, he could barely get a word out. Robin made him tea, wiped his face with a cool washcloth and rubbed his back until he calmed down. He confessed to her what he heard. She was suspiciously quiet as she listened.

Before he went to bed, Steve left a message on Eddie's machine saying he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it tonight. He hung up before an ‘I'm sorry and I love you’ slipped out. He didn't want to embarrass himself further. It's not like Eddie would notice or care. It never meant a thing to him anyway.

'I was such a fool to think anyone would actually love me back.’

---------------

The next day, Eddie stopped over to check on Steve. It wasn’t like him to miss a date, he must really have been sick. Not to worry though because he was fully prepared to nurse his man back to health.

To Eddie’s surprise, Robin answered the door instead… and punched him square in the face.

“What the fuck, Buckley?!” Holding his throbbing nose, he stepped away from the angry woman in case she decided to take another swing.

“Fuck you, Munson! You stay the hell away from Steve.”

“I'll see my boyfriend if I want to.” This was absurd, he tried to move around her to go inside. “What is your problem?”

Robin used all her might to shove him away. “Oh, he's your boyfriend now? Thought it wasn't a relationship and you were just getting what you could out of it.”

“Look I don't know what you think you heard...”

“I didn't. Steve did.”

Eddie froze, his heartbeat skyrocketing. All color drained from his face, his bloody nose slowly dripping onto his shirt in sharp contrast.

“Yeah, he was bringing you a gift and heard everything you and your nasty friends said about him.” Robin shook her head at him, sneering, “He's changed so much, you should know that more than anyone. And he loves you. He doesn't deserve to be treated this way, especially from you.”

“Shit. Shit! It's not what you think. God, I’ve got to talk to him. I...”

“I don't think so.” She wasn’t going to budge.

“But you don't understand, I can explain.”

“No buts, Munson. Because it can only be one of two things.” She held up one finger, “Either you meant what you said last night, which makes you the Grand Poobah of assholes.”

She held up a second finger, “Or you are too embarrassed to claim Steve as yours and admit you love him back. I honestly don't care which because it still makes you a cowardly piece of shit that broke my best friend's heart and I'm not letting you near him again. Got it!”

Eddie just hung his head and nodded. Wincing as Robin slammed the door in his face.

He remained rooted to the spot, the guilt eating at him. He wished he could go back in time and rip those horrible words out of his lying mouth. He felt sick.

'I ruined everything. How could I be so fucking stupid, why did I say those things?'

Eddie imagined kicking down the door, running to Steve, screaming ‘I love you! I love you! I love you! I'm sorry, please forgive me. I swear I didn't mean a word of it. Not a fucking word. And I'm so fucking sorry. Please don't leave me.’ He'd get on his knees and beg until his beloved took him back.

He's not sure how long he stood there staring at his Reeboks. No sign of movement from inside the house. Finally accepting defeat, Eddie turned tail, fleeing back to his van. He knew he wouldn't get another chance. Why stick around.

Sniffing and wiping at his stinging eyes, he fumbled the keys, dropping them into the dirt. “Fuck!” He rammed his fist into the driver's side door, before bending over to grab the keys.

Unlocking the door and getting in, Eddie sat there staring at his swollen and swiftly bruising knuckles. Something was definitely broken. Wouldn't be able to play for a while. He knew he should be more upset about that, but right now he couldn't care less. He lost his Stevie, his Sunshine.

Eddie gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, screaming at top of his lungs “FUCKKKKKKKKK!” Out of breath, he leaned his head on the wheel, allowing himself to cry. He was alone, living his worst nightmare.

It was over.

The End

A/N: Thank you to everyone that has read. I appreciate you all. I’d love to know your thoughts.

#niffala fics #steddie angst #steve harrington angst #eddie munson angst #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson

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cherrydreamer · 2 years

Text

Billy's not entirely sure how it happened, how he got himself involved in all this mess.

Part of him wishes he'd never knocked on Max's door that afternoon, that he hadn't listened to that twist in the gut that told him something was wrong when she didn't answer, a twist that became a sickening swoop when he walked in and noticed her bedroom window wide open, and the little shit nowhere to be seen.

He almost wishes he'd never gone out to find her, desperate to drag her back before Neil and Susan came home. Because if he hadn't gone out, maybe he'd never have stumbled onto the fucked up scene in the Junkyard; King Steve with a nail bat ripped straight from Billy's nightmares and an attitude ripped straight from Billy's wet dreams, standing in between a bunch of monsters and a school bus full of kids.

Billy probably should've turned tail there and then. But he didn't. Instead he stayed. He got himself involved. Like an idiot.

And then, even more idiotically, he stayed involved. Through fight after fight. Weird, crazy bullshit after weird, crazy bullshit. Until it's months later and it's all kicking off again and this time it's been a long one, a big one, building and building over days, and Steve and Billy have been there for damn near every single long, dark, terrifying hour, and Billy can see that Steve is tired. Entirely fucking exhausted. He's fighting it of course, downing coffees and sodas until he's practically vibrating, but it's not long before even that stops working, and he's leaning against surfaces whenever he stands, or his head is drooping to his chest when he sits down, jerking up instantly the moment that anyone makes a sound.

And Billy watches him for a while, waits until he's mid-droop and then says, quite sharply, "Just take a fucking nap, Harrington, get your beauty sleep."

And maybe it's kinda funny, the way that Steve immediately jolts up, springing right into a defensive stance, eyes darting right over to where the kids are huddled together, putting together another plan that's gonna lead them all right into the heart of the danger, and add a few more sprinkles of silver into Steve's glorious head of hair.

Maybe. But Billy's not laughing.

Steve just glares at him, sitting back down on the couch and shaking his head when Billy's words finally sink in, "I'm fine, man. I'm good. Just got a headache, ok?"

"No wonder," Billy says, "Every one of those brats is a fucking migraine trigger. Surprised you ain't had an aneurysm already."

Steve snorts out a laugh, smiling that soft, slightly crooked smile of his that means he's actually amused, but then his face drops, mouth setting into a firm line. "Nah, it's nothing, I'm fine," he insists, "Everyone's tired. Just gotta-" he slices his hand through the air, "-gotta power on through."

He swishes his hand again, mouthing 'power on' in a way that only reinforces Billy's belief that Harrington is teetering right on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

"I mean it," Billy says, taking advantage of Steve's still outstretched hand to tug him to his feet, only for Steve to stagger and fall into him, his free hand ending up splayed right over the exposed skin of Billy's chest, their faces perilously close, and Billy swallows, his skin burning under the gentle pressure of Steve's finger tips, a hot flush that spreads up his neck, rising right to the tips of his ears.

It takes a moment before he can find the words to finish his sentence.

"Go sleep," he manages eventually.

"I'm fine," Steve steps back, swaying a little, and Billy fixes him with a hard stare.

"No, Harrington you're not. You're clearly not. Hell, you're exhausted, look at you, you can barely stand up. And you're gonna be no fucking good to any of us if you're dead on your feet when the monster shit hits the fan again."

It's harsh. Maybe too harsh. Because there's a moment when Steve Harrington finally lets his mask slip, and Billy can see the flood of emotions clouding his face. A mix of fear and guilt and worry and resignation. But then Steve smiles that tight, too-big smile again, and says, half joking and half serious,

"I can't, OK? Cause someone's gotta keep their eye on the little shits. Stop 'em from running off and doing something stupid. I gotta-" he stifles a yawn, words almost incomprehensible as he tries to talk through it, "-gotta look after 'em."

And this time Billy's a bit more gentle when he pushes.

He taps his fingers lightly on Steve's wrist, and softens his voice and leans in, "And who looks after you, huh?"

It has Steve blinking, eyes going wider than Billy's ever seen even in Steve's most Bambi-like moments. His lips round into an 'oh!' of surprise, and Billy forces himself not to stare at them. Instead, he pushes forward with his argument, "Seriously, it'll be OK. I'll keep an eye on the gremlins." He grins, "Promise I won't get them wet."

Steve clearly doesn't get the reference, judging by the way his head tilts to the side like some kind of confused labrador puppy, but Billy can see the moment that his resolve finally cracks. Maybe Billy's finally earned his stripes or his boy scout badges or whatever you call the kind of trust that killing a few monster dogs will get you, or maybe Steve really is just that tired. Whatever the reason, Steve takes in a deep, slightly shaky breath. And then he nods.

"Yeah, I…I can do that. Ten minutes, just lemme take the edge off, then I'll be alright."

"Sounds like a plan, Harrington."

Steve doesn't have to know that Billy follows him up, five minutes later. He doesn't have to know that Billy stands by the bedroom door, arms folded as he leans against the wall, leaving a dirty boot print on Mrs. Harrington's chintz wallpaper and not budging from his post, even when the kids finally get their heads outta their asses and come storming up the stairs half an hour later, insisting that they need to fill Steve in on their latest plan.

He doesn't have to know that Billy bares his teeth and growls when Mike sarcastically asks if he's a guard dog now, or that Billy has a whole list of colourful and imaginative consequences that he threatens the kids with if they don't get the hell away from the door and quieten the fuck down, now.

He doesn't have to know that Billy looks in on him an hour later, just to make sure he's OK. That he rearranges the sheets from where they've fallen away from Steve's shoulder. That he watches, just for a minute, as Steve's chest rises and falls peacefully. That he smiles to himself and murmurs, "Sweet dreams, Steve," before resuming his guard duty.

And he definitely doesn't have to know that, for once, Billy's actually kinda glad he got himself involved in all this.

#harringrove #just a little something #steve deserves someone to bully him into a little self care #and who better than billy?#cherrywrites

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visd3stele · 2 years

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Queenmaker

synopsis: viserys first died bearing a great secret. one that could change the faith of the seven kingdoms. and you had your part to play, along with your handsome knight in shining armor.

tw: spoilers from the books, way ahead of the show, light smut, bit of incest before knowledge of family bonds (targaryens am i right), canon compliant violence and foul language (like once)

a/n: it's the first time i'm writing for got universe, so i'm quite nervous. posting it without proof reading before i can panic and delete it.

°•▪︎~▪︎•° masterlist ; requests °•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Rhaenyra, please," you begged to deaf ears, wincing as purple daggers shot back at you once the dragon queen turned to face you.

The glint of her unusual pupils were the only light you saw in months. Perhaps years? You didn't remember the last touch of sun rays, the last taste of warmth before you were thrown in the dungeons.

You've waited in a cold cell, counting the rhythm to which water dripped from the walls with nothing but darkness surrounding you. When the dim torches appeared like spirits of the realm of passing life to haunt you, Rhaenyra shushed the dry scream from your lips and offered you water and food.

"I'm so sorry," she said, voice heavy with guilt.

You grew up with the dragon queen. Served along your mother to her chambers as a little child. Then, as you reached the age of schooling, the king has been so nice as to have you seated at his daughter's side before the tutors. Taking care of every need you had. Books, clothes, money and food.

Rhaenyra has been your first kiss (and you, hers). Now you couldn't help but be afraid of those same sweet lips that made your body tingle, fierce eyes you respected religiously and soft face that melted your heart with painful adoration.

Criston has warned you. Ser Cole, the man who promised to marry you the night he taught you bodies can love too. The man who turned against his queen.

You remembered his pleas to go with him. His begs of devotion and vows of love. He kneeled at your feet, his beautiful wild curls barely out of reach from your fingers, his round dark eyes searching the hiddenmost parts of your soul. And Criston beseeched you to trust him.

You wanted to. From the day he won that first turnament until the day he swore off Rhaenyra and stood behind Lady Alicent, you wanted to trust him. Have him. Love him. But how could you betray your queen?

"She'll hurt you. She'll burn you to get to me and I cannot allow it."

"Then stay. Stay here, with me. Be her knight, her friend as you used to. Repent and ask forgiveness. Rhaenyra is good, my dearest love. She'll listen."

Criston rose to his feet then, shacking his head, urging a waterfall of brown locks to bath his shoulders. "Rhaenyra would fight 'til death for her birthright. And not just her own end."

"Why, then? Why choose Lady Alicent over her? Over me...," you whispered slowly, chocked by your own tears.

Ser Cole ran to your side, cupping you cheeks – that fit perfectly in his hardened by fights hands – and brushing his thumbs over your face. His eyes were bigger now, as if to bare his soul to you. A reassurence of what lays deep in his heart: you.

"I would never choose against you, y/n. My sweet, dear y/n." He closed his eyes. Dropped a kiss to your forehead. And whithout taking his lips off your warmed skin, Criston spoke with such sadness in his voice you tightened your arms around him in a comforting squeeze. "Rhaenyra isn't the princess you think she is. She is reckless. Won't learn or listen. She can't be queen."

You toyed your bottom lips between your teeth in thought. Your lover was right, came the unwanted conclusion. But the bond you shared with the dragon queen was too strong to be so easily ripped to shreds.

Slowly, dragging your feet lethargically as if you stepped on shards of dragon glass and not on the soft carpet of your chambers, you detangled from Ser Cole.

"I'm sorry, Criston. I can't."

That was the last you saw of him before the civil war. Rhaenyra and her younger half-brother tore through the seven kingdoms in a dangerous game of thrones. And the poor civilians paid the price, trapped beneath the feet of dancing dragons.

You helped as much as you could. Housing orphaned children, putting down fires, even learning the art of healing at the extense of your abilities. And in the midst of all of that, reported dutifully to the queen.

But every night your heart wittered like a crisped flower. There were plenty of those around lately. You dreamt of Criston, his bright smile shining at you after a win. Eyes darting over the audience filled with pride and daring confidence. But his smile was reserved for you.

Each night Ser Cole would visit in your dreams. His dashing form spread over you in the dim lit bedroom. The same happy grin from the morn' turning into a seductive smirk as he caressed every inch of your body.

Even in your sleep, your body would respond to the ghost of his touch. Goosebumps forming where Criston's fingers teased: at the base of your neck, the collarbone, around your aroused nipples, travelling down, down, down to your entrance. His body was cold, ice against the fire burning within you. When he pinched your clit you sighed, trembling alone in your bed.

In your dream, he laughed. A colorful sound playing the chords of your heart. "Stay still, my lovliest. Let me take care of you."

"Criston," you moaned. Unable to fathom any other thought, your mind consumed only by his presence.

His body, lined with mucles that flexed and unflexed as you ignited shivers of pleasure down his spine, pushed slowly into you. You could feel his ragged sigh as if he trully was there, cold on your heated neck. Then his mouth would leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, or he'd burry his head between your breast, tickling you with his messy hair.

You'd sneak your hands to his back, dugging your nails in his flesh as he rode inside you, hitting every spot that mattered. You'd moan his name so loud your voice pushed between sleep fantasies.

"Shhh," Criston would say, covering your mouth with his to swallow the sounds. "You have to be quiet, my love, my y/n. You have to be quiet or someone will catch us." As if it wasn't just a dream.

In the morning the bed would be a mess of sheets, tangled and knotted as you shifted. White fluids spilled on the rich materials. A frustrated groan would be the way you started all your days since Criston left with Aegon's men.

Sometimes you had a strange feeling you were followed. A shadow in the corner of your eye, a looming presence tickling at the back of your neck. But there never was anything when you checked.

So you'd go through your day, having the nights to hold on to – Ser Cole, the steadying wind in your wings even miles apart.

One night, though, your dream ended quicker than usual. Worked up, breath hitched in your chest, you eyed the guards curiously through the blurry veil of lifting sleep. That's when you were dragged to the dungeon.

"I can't take this anymore. Please," you cried. The rasp of your voice took you by surprise. You felt your heart skip a beat at the realisation you had no tears to shed. All dried, like your chipped lips and peeling skin.

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought Ser Cole would come from you rather sooner than later."

"Rhaeny, please." Your sobs sounded pathetic even to you. "What– what will you do to him?"

"Extract information. Secure my reign. Give him as example for those foolish enough to question me again."

Your breath grew hectic, panting with sobs and wails you couldn't keep locked behind your lips no more.

"You still love the traitor."

Your body shivered. It could have been the cold catching up with your health, finally rusting it. Or it could have been fear and pain. You were too tired, to ragged up to make sense of it.

"Rhaeny," you didn't know what you wanted to say. Ask her of your own fate? Beg for Ser Cole's?

"Why are you here?"

The queen's eyes softened. Head down, a curtain of white strands shielding her face, Rhaenyra whispered. "I had to see you. Make sure you were alright. I didn't want to get here. None of this should have happened."

"But you can't stop." It wasn't a question, nor a sudden realization. You felt like you knew Rhaenyra better than anyone else. Understood her better than anyone else. As if you were one and the same blood.

"Not yet. Aegon doesn't know how to be king. I filled the cups at my father and his lords' table. I learned the ways of the crown. I was named queen. His only claim is the difference between our legs."

Even in your dazzed state, you nodded sympathetically. She was right, of course. And you harbored only the deepest hatred for Lady Alicent for what she did. The three of you were supposed to stick by each other's sides.

You were raised next to high ladies and the princess herself. But the only ones to ever accept you were Alicent and Rhaenyra. The three of you vowed to see the latter on the throne. How the loyalties changed!

You impressed – or surprised – them both when you managed to ride a dragon on your own. The magestic creatures acted so tame around you. Until the king forbade you for ever going close to a dragon. You missed it. Them. All too much – an inexplicable pierce of grief in your heart, as if someone has sown a thread of iron through your blood and connected it to the dragons. The furthest you were from them, the more it strecthed. So painfully a reminder of how wrong the distance was.

"Rhaenyra... don't hurt him. Please."

"You know I can't." She said after a long pause, right before she left.

From then on someone brought you food and water regularly. But no one came to take you out of the incospicuous place.

Until the next time you heard a human voice. His voice.

Torches, so many you couldn't separate their lights to count properly, lit the small dungeon room. "Y/n," Criston screamed. And pushed aside the shorter figure fumbling through keys in an attempt to open the door.

"Y/n," he said again, muttering your name like a prayer until he reached you. "Oh, y/n," he sighed once he could pull you in his embrance. It was a weird feeling. Criston was the cold one, usually. Now he warmed your iced body against the burning flames of longing and desire.

"Come on, let's get you out of here. Can you walk? How do you feel?"

A sinister smile crept on your face. Then you broke into a loud, maddening laughter. How normal it all seemed! Ser Cole again in your arms, worrying over you. His scent flooding your senses, his body pressed to yours. Those dragon glass black eyes turning in wells of love as he watched you. The familiarity of his voice. It was too much for your silenced mind.

"I'm fine now that you're here," you managed, capturing his lips with yours. "I missed you."

"Not as much as I, you."

You let Ser Cole guide you through dark halls, a suit of men following swiftly behind, yet offering the pair of you enough space to mime intimacy. Your head rested on the biceps of the arm he had wrapped around your waist. Eyes clossed, knowing nothing will hurt you with Criston there, at your hip. A content hum left your lips; his hand on you in an iron grip, fingers touching every inch they could, making sure you're real.

As the sun blinded you even through closed lids, a question you should have been concerned with way earlier, popped in your head. "Criston?"

"Hmm?" He mused, nuzzling his head into your temples.

"How are you here?"

You looked up just in time to see one of his winning smiles blooming. "Long live the king," was all he said. "Come on, let's have a healer take a look at you."

But you couldn't move. The ecstasy that flourished in your body sunked too soon for you to process it. All you understood was the cold sweat drops forming on your body and a quickening heart beat punching at your rib cage.

"Ho– How? And the que– Rhaenyra? How is, where is she?"

Criston frowned. "She evaded us. But the throne is Aegon's now and we will find her soon."

"Then what?"

"She can either bent the knee or die with her choices."

Ser Cole's extended hand fell limp to his side when you shook your head and shoved your lips between your teeth. "Criston..."

"I know this is hard for you, y/n, my love. I'll speak to the king to let you talk to her once she's brought in. Maybe you can make her see reason."

You breathed out what sounded like a combination of an annoyed scoff and an amused huff. As if you hadn't tried to talk to her before and during your imprisonment. And look where that led you.

"Y/n..."

"I know. The healers."

Perhaps he wanted to say more. Maybe he would have. But the defeated look in your eyes made him decide against it. Criston, much like anyone else, didn't understand your bond with Rhaenyra. It was obvious it was deeper than a friendship or a shared childhood. Once he even suspected you still had feelings for her. It caused such an argument between you two. And it took a long night to convince him he's the only one for you.

It didn't made sense not even for you. All you knew is that you had to protect her. Like an older sister would a younger.

Later that day bells rang through King's Landing, celebraiting the end of the war more than Aegon's coronation. All the Greens looked so happy. Smug. Untouchable.

Until a last storm of fire rained on their party. Rhaenyra. Riding her dragon in all its majestic glory, with white hair flying behind her in snakes of ivory and purple eyes burning like magic of old fixated on Aegon.

Her supporters rushed in behind her, charging the Greens for battle.

"Protect the king!" Ser Cole shouted. "Capturing the princess alive isn't a duty tonight."

You were pushed to hide in a corner. Forced to watch the chosen of your heart and your queen facing each other on opposite sides of the battlefield. And yet neither love in your heart could surpass the other.

Rhaneyra aimed for Aegon. It was her sole focus as her dragon stomped over knights and kingsguard men to reach her half brother.

"Hello, sister," he smirked. If it annoyed you, the Targaryen queen must be seething with anger. "Came to bring me the gifts suited for the king I am?"

"The only gift you shall revieve, brother, is the final sleep."

Rhaenyra launched towards Aegon, the dragon's head elonging like a snake about to bite its pray. You vaguely spotted Alicent picking up a sword with shacking hands and such palor in her face you would have thought her a ghost. But she was not a ghost. She was a mother seeing her baby in danger.

"Dracarys," Rhaenyra ordered. Once the flames died out and the smoke cleared, you were surprised to see the self proclaimed king still standing. Instead, his mother burned to a crisp.

Aegon saw it mere seconds after you did. Tears picked at his eyes – of grief and anger as well – before a heart ripping shriek came out of him. "You will pay for this, you murderous cunt," he spat, charging with his sword against his sister, still seated on her dragon.

Criston, you spotted sneaking from behind. He traded the sword for a bow, a single arrow in his hold. While Aegon distracted Rhaenyra, Ser Cole would have one shot at killing her.

It all happened so fast. It only took as long as Aegon's battle cry lasted. You ran to your lover, clapping his hands into yours. "Please, Cristone, my sun, my soul, my life. For me. Spare her."

"Y/n," he started, but couldn't finish. Aegon's voice stumbled over a chocked sound. And when you looked at it, all you could see was a body ripped apart in tow halves.

"No," Criston breathed out at the same time a relieved puff left your lungs. Criston's fingers curled in between your still united hands. You looked at him, ready to convince him it wasn't all lost. To convince him to join you in every way known to man, even in this gorrish happiness.

You were ready to agree on what he proposed a long time ago: leaving the court to a peaceful life, to wed and live like a happy, normal couple.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I can't. Nor Rhaenyra, nor her bastard sons can rule the seven kingdoms."

"Why do you care so much?" You wanted to yell, but discovered you didn't have the strength left in you.

"I took a vow as kingsguard. I cannot go against it. Please, understand it."

Before you could make your case, that his vow would also be against you, your relationship – marriage, children, even you sleeping together – Criston pulled his hands from yours, knocked the arrow and shoot.

Rhaenyra fell off the dragon. The poor creature was left in a frenzy without its mistress rider. With one last disappointed glance to Criston, you ran to calm the dragon before it'd cause serios damage.

You couldn't bare to look at the body of your queen. Bathed in blood, resting in a pool of fast spreading red. The arrow has hit the neck.

So you focused on the creature instead. Heard the fearful rhythm of its heart, which you found unnerving. Such a large predator, lost without a human to guide it.

"Easy, boy. It's alright. All it's fine."

The dragon turned towards your voice, much to the people who struggled to escape being stepped on relief. For a second you thought you did it. You locked eyes, hands thrown forward, urging the creature to trust you. And it did. It laid its forehead against your palms.

Then, in the awed silent watch of the present people, the dragon pulled away and fixed you with its look. You barely had time to register the orange ball that formed in the back of its throat as he opened its mouth and bestowed its fire over you.

"Y/n!" You heared Criston's roar, pushing through the mob, his sword back in his firm grip. You could feel the embrance of flames, eating at your clothes and hair. Burning and burning until nothing remained in their stead. Not even crisped remnanted like Lady Alicent's body, or cinder.

But the flames didn't eat your flesh. They danced on your body, swirling higher and higher as warmth kissed every inch of your being. You threw your head back, euphoria taking over. You weren't dead. You weren't dying. You felt good! More than good, magical.

A strong want to twirl in the flames overtook you. So you did. You've nver felt so free, so happy. Well, you had to be fair, the way Ser Criston could make your heart tingle and your brain lose track of thoughts and meaning could compare.

Speaking of Ser Criston Cole, you searched him through the fire. It was hard to see anything behind the wild cooccoon around you. And what a right word cooccoon was. For when the fire died down, you were born anew.

"What has just...?"

"Did you see?"

"What is she?"

"How did she...?"

In the chaos of voices you tried to make sense of, Criston appeared at your side, the comforting presence he always was. You didn't realize you were naked until he threw his coat over you.

"Careful," you wanted to warn him of the dragon being unstable. Then you noticed the creature asleep at your feet.

"I think I'm the one supposed to say that. Are you alright?"

"Oh, Criston, better than ever! I feel so... alive!"

Ser Cole could only nod. Still to shocked to fully understand what has occured.

"Is she a Targaryen?" A voice in the sea of people around you arose above the others.

A gleam lit in Criston's eyes. "Of course she is! Only the blood of dragons can survice their fire."

"What...?"

"Shh, follow my lead. Trust me, please."

You frowned, but kept quiet. Let him deal with the people, Aegon's and Rhaenyra's alike. Soon to be yours.

You took a peak at Rhaeny's body. Knelt next to it, not caring about staining Criston's coat or soaking your bare knees in her blood. "I'm so sorry," you said and, as you spoke, you realised you sounded like her when she visited you in the cell she threw you in.

Were you seeing her death as a neccesity then? One you mourned and felt guilt's slick hands wrapped around your neck for, but you didn't regret? As you look up at your lover with troubled eyes, not caring to listen and try understand what he said to the mob, you came to the conclusion the answer was yes.

You didn't have time to make out how you felt about it. If you should consider yourself a disgusting human being or if you should revel in the new found power – after all, didn't Rhaenyra do the same? – that you were whisked up in the embrance of strangers and carried on their shoulders to the iron throne, whistles of celebration and shouts of 'long live the queen' errupting all around you.

"I gave you her majesty, y/n Targaryen!" Criston proclaimed with a wink before the people gathered begged for your undivided attention with their willful chants.

#ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #my writing #my fic writing #my fic #fabien frankel

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volturilovers · 11 months

Text

Shadows of one’s past pt.2

English isn’t my first language so the grammar might not be the best.

Part 1

Caius POV:

I sat in my office reading some paperwork, I feel my love, my mate being anxious through the bond. She has been avoiding me for a couple of days. I don't really understand why. Did I do something wrong?, wasnt't she comfortable with me being there?. I am not the person who usually question themselves, nor do I usually question my actions, thats something that Aro and Marcus does. Most of the time.

Today, however I, against my usual judgement, decided give her some peace and let her come to me when she feels ready, despite my irritation of her avoiding me and not knowing w---

*There is a knock on the outside of the door*

I was once again brought out of my thoughts, just like last time in the throne room.

The difference?.

Nobody knocks on my door in the middle of the day, especially in my private office. It made me, quite frankly, more than a little annoyed. I made sure to speak loudly to the vampire standing outside my door.

State your name and the reason for knocking on my door. Everyone who value their life should know that in the castle they aren't allowed to disturb me or my brothers in their private offices unless it's something really important. State your reason for disturbing your KING and I might not rip your head from your miserable shoulders and burn your body and simultaneously putting the head in front of the fire, forcing you to watch your own burning corpse dissolve into ashes. I stated very calmly but the last part of the threat in a very spiteful and threatening manner, which to many is even more scarier than me being “angry”. I wasn't in the mood to humour anyone today.

Y/N POV:

I was sitting in my bed deep in my thoughts. I miss Caius. I didn't know how to face him, he has questions, without a doubt I don't know what will happen, how will he react when I tell him. He has made me more happy than I have ever been in a very, very, very long time. Just thinking he might decide to not believe me sends pain through my chest. I know the right thing is to tell him. I must tell him about it eventually, otherwise he will find out from other sources and I need to do it soon or I will never have the courage to do it.

*I sighed and opened the door to the chambers to see Demetri and Magnus guarding it*

"Lady y/n do you need me to get you anything?"

I took a deep breath before speaking. Can you tell Caius to meet me in our shared quarters this afternoon?

"Of course my lady" Demetri said before walking away to rely my message to Caius.

I shut the door and leaned against it. Now it's done, how do i tell him?Where do I start?

————————————————————————

Posted this that was sitting in my drafts while I Work on the Demetri imagine.

Part 3?

Requested by: @inner-sparkle-inner-writings

Bye lovelies ❤️

#caius volturi #the volturi #the volturi kings #demetri volturi #caius x reader #caius volturi imagine

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paradiqms · 1 year

Text

(8) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 4.5k

currently, eight out of ?

previous.

“are you sure we’re going to the right place?”

“yes.” your answer to the tall navigator comes out rather irritated, a tired sigh escaping your lips. the navigator–yunho, you remember–spares you a quick glance from his spot by the ship’s steering wheel, the way that his hands grip onto the handles a little tighter than before going unnoticed by your eyes.

“if you say so,” yunho shrugs. “i just think it’s a bit odd that we have to stop at eridanus out of all places.”

“surely it can’t be that bad.” you frown, opting to move your gaze away from the horizon of endless blue sea in front of you to stare at yunho’s side profile. the early morning sunshine seems to compliment his features extremely well, and you can’t help but wonder how it seems like he doesn’t have any fatigue clinging onto his face even when he had stayed up the entire night to steer the ship along its new course.

“for a queen like you? surely.” the navigator mirrors your frown, prompting you to roll your eyes. “i’ve been to eridanus before, and it is that bad.”

from yunho’s words, you can’t help but turn your gaze downwards in realization. you’ve been cooped up in your palace for the past six years, never stepping a foot out of pyxis grounds even when your presence was requested by the rulers of other lands. you’ve only ever heard of eridanus from the official letters they’ve sent – ones that counted so little, the existence of the whole kingdom would slip out of mind sometimes.

however, you think that’s exactly what they would prefer. your knowledge of the kingdom may be limited, but you’re aware that the king and queen of eridanus enjoy keeping to themselves – a fact that’s still a mystery to you on exactly why.

oh well, you think. guess i’ll find out when we get there.

“… i see.” you mutter. “but the map wants us to go there, so all we can do is comply.”

yunho’s eyes drift from looking forward to stare at the aging map that you’re currently holding, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from questioning your sudden agreement to helping him decipher the piece of parchment. one could only imagine his bewilderment when you came up to him several hours earlier in the dead of night, asking for the map that was previously shoved into the pocket of his jacket. the navigator, although secretly thrilled that you finally came to your senses, was still quite doubtful as he handed to map to you.

would you really read it? are you truly about to help them? or are you going to rip the map into pieces again before tossing it into the sea? yunho’s mind raced with questions, ones that only multiplied when you unrolled the map and told him to set sail for eridanus a few moments later. he had stared at you as if you were out of your mind, but you simply stared back with not a single hint of hesitancy nor deceit in your eyes.

so he complied. yunho asked for you to stay by his side for the night and act as his guide while he steers the ship, since he obviously wasn’t able to read the map, and you agreed. he thinks it was rather comical to see you try and keep yourself awake to keep him on track, but he was grateful for your help nonetheless.

“we should be arriving before noon,” yunho provides before lifting his gaze from the map in your hands up to your face, the smallest glint of mischief twinkling in his eyes as he voices out the next sentence. “would you be so kind and help me inform the captain?”

now it’s your turn to stare at the navigator as if he’s out of his mind.

“you know i won’t be able to read the map anymore if i’m dead, right?” you scowl, receiving an entertained chortle from yunho.

“i’m sure captain is very aware of that too,” you notice how the ends of yunho’s lips twitch upwards as if he’s holding himself back from laughing, and your scowl only deepens. “he won’t kill you, your highness.”

“your captain pointed his gun to my head and threatened to cut my tongue off,” you explain. “i am not going anywhere near him.”

“if he wanted you dead, he would’ve killed you long ago.” yunho tilts his head over to look at you with an eyebrow raised. “unless you want to steer the ship while i go tell him myself?”

the thought of steering a huge pirate ship with not the smallest idea on how to even grip the handles properly makes you choke on your own saliva.

“are you mad?” you accuse. “i would sink this ship in mere minutes.”

“then go inform the captain that we’ll be arriving in eridanus soon.” yunho goes back to looking at the horizon in front of him, and through his peripheral vision, he can see how you basically wilt in defeat.

“fine,” you groan, begrudgingly kicking yourself off the side of the ship where you were previously leaning against. “but if i don’t return in ten minutes then it would be safest to assume that your captain placed a bullet in my head.”

“duly noted, your excellency.”

you scoff at the obvious sarcasm in yunho’s voice, making your way towards the captain’s quarters by the other end of the vessel. soon enough, you come to face the wooden door that led to the captain’s private room, and you hesitate for a moment before gently knocking.

the sound of your anxious heart beating loudly against your chest was akin to a clock ticking away as you continue to stand silently in front of the door, waiting for a proper invitation to come inside.

nothing happens.

you let out a heavy sigh. the thought of simply barging in without permission doesn’t seem very appealing to you, but you can feel your patience running thinner with each second you’re left waiting outside the door.

“oh, to hell with it.” you groan, deciding to knock thrice on the door but with more force this time. when nothing happens again, you suck in a deep breath, place your hand on the cold handle of the door before twisting it clockwise, and slowly pushing the door open.

the moment you open the wooden door and step into the dark, silent room, you’re hit with a flurry of emotions that you can’t seem to describe – but what’s certain is the sudden ache in your chest that you thought you wouldn’t feel anymore.

the room smells just like him. it obviously would, you think to yourself, since it is hisprivate room. you notice how it’s incredibly spacious, complete with two bookshelves situated by the walls on one end of the room and a wide table in between said bookshelves. there are windows placed on the wall behind the table, the only source of natural lighting within the otherwise dark and gloomy room. the table seems to be where the captain does most of his work, judging by the array of papers and other sorts of stationary.

despite the furnishings that simply scream captain of a pirate crew, you can’t help yourself but be reminded of the small, humble room that once belonged to a kind poet, whose decorations only consisted of handwritten letter and poems he would paste on the walls.

stark differences, but the scent has always been the same. you think it’s physically impossible for you to forget it.

you take in another deep breath before slowly exhaling in attempt to bring yourself out of your own mind and to ignore the ache in your chest. with light steps, you invite yourself into the spacious quarters before slowly closing the door, and you notice the human shaped lump under the sheets of the queen sized bed that’s neatly placed in the other end of the room.

oh, you muse with the smallest smile on your lips. he’s sleeping. now wonder he didn’t answer the door.

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you make your way closer, stopping once you’re standing next to the bed. hongjoong has himself laying on his side and facing away from you – which is good, you think, because you probably won’t be able to stop yourself from thinking about the way his face looks like while he’s asleep.

as you silently stare at the captain, you make a mental reminder to curse yunho out for making you do this, even when it’s not going how you thought it would. you had expected to be greeted with the sight of a gun’s barrel to your head when you entered the room – yet here you are, gazing at hongjoong’s sleeping figure with a tight chest and a mind that’s wandering to six years ago.

you’re quickly dragged out of your thoughts and back into the present when a familiar gruffy voice reaches your eyes.

“are you just going to stand there all day?” hongjoong rasps out, his morning voice sending another wave of remembrance into your trembling heart.

“… you’re awake?” you murmur, and you can hear how the captain scoffs at your words.

“i heard your loud footsteps even before you decided to barge into my room.” the captain oh-so-kindly informs. you’re unable to stop the embarrassment crawl onto your face in the shades of deep red, and you clear your throat in attempt to keep your composure.

“right,” you say after a quick moment. “i apologize… for coming in without permission.”

hongjoong stays silent for a while, and your fingers play with the edge of your shirt nervously as you wait for him to answer.

“what do you want?” he asks soon enough. “it better be important.”

you’re reminded of the initial reason for your unannounced visit, and you can’t seem to construct the proper sentence. most, if not all, of your interactions with hongjoong ever since you reunited with him had been arguments and insults – this might be the first normal conversation you’ve had with him, and you really don’t know how to act.

“uh,” you stutter, pinching yourself afterwards for being so stiff. “yunho sent me to inform you that we will be arriving in eridanus soon.”

the way hongjoong’s figure seems to shift doesn’t go unnoticed by you. it’s as if he’s surprised by the information you had just conveyed, and he wanted to turn around to face you but quickly decided not to.

if your thoughts are correct, you’re glad he decided against it. you’re not confident in yourself enough to stay composed if you were to see his features when he just woke up – relaxed, without a hint of hatred or annoyance that you’ve gotten used to seeing on him whenever he sees you.

“tell yunho,” hongjoong begins. “that he’s an idiot that has gone crazy, and tell him to set sail somewhere else. we are not docking in eridanus.”

you frown at the captain’s words. is the kingdom of eridanus truly that bad?

“but the map specifically showed me that–”

“you read it?” the speed in which hongjoong turns around to face you catches you off guard, his eyes seemingly fully awake now as he stares at you with something similar to surprise.

“…yes.” you nod. there’s a strong urge to turn around and look away from the captain, but you can’t seem to listen to yourself as you’re frozen in place, as if hongjoong’s gaze had casted a spell on you.

the captain seems to have caught on to his mistake quickly. you notice the way his face falls in realization, and he clears his throat before shifting to sit up properly by the edge of the bed. his hair is a mess, you note, dark strands poking out in random directions – and you don’t stop yourself from smiling at the sight.

“sorry,” you cover your mouth to muffle the quite laughter when hongjoong raises a curious eyebrow at your sudden change in expression. “it’s just your morning hair. it’s kinda, uhm – everywhere.”

hongjoong feels the tip of his ears get hot when your words are finally registered in his slow morning brain, and he quickly runs a hand over his hair in attempt to straighten out any of the strands that aren’t where they’re supposed to be. the sound of your entertained giggles makes him groan in embarrassment before he tilts his head up to send you a glare from his spot on the edge of the bed.

“of course it’s everywhere,” the captain mutters as he tries to defend his dignity. “you were the one who rudely woke me up from my slumber, and now you’re laughing at me.”

“sorry, sorry.” you apologize, doing your best to stop yourself from laughing even more at the sight of an embarrassed hongjoong trying to fix his hair. “i yield.”

the captain simply scoffs at your response, but there’s an upwards quirk on the edge of his lips as he takes in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter. before this, it was all frowns and glares with a few tears slipped in between whenever he was around your presence, so to see you loosen up in this moment makes his heart squeeze.

“you’re ridiculous,” hongjoong shakes his head. “but if the map wants us in eridanus, then so be it. we will discuss further once we dock.”

“aye, captain.” you mock salute, earning yourself another lighthearted scoff from hongjoong. he shoos you away with a motion of his hand and you promptly comply, stepping away from your previous spot next to his bed and making your way towards the wooden door.

just as you’re halfway through the door, you decide to turn around and look back at hongjoong whose eyes you catch to be already staring at you. neither of you say anything for a few moments, but none is needed, because all you do is send a smile at the captain’s direction before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you.

once you’re out of his sight, hongjoong is convinced that he never woke up in the first place and that everything that had just happened is a dream – or a nightmare? he can’t decide. it felt like a dream by the way you had smiled at him, an act that he thought he would never receive from you anymore since he has long deemed himself to be unworthy of such kindness from you, but you still did it.

and yet, it also felt like a nightmare, because he knows that whatever happened shouldn’t have happened at all. the laughter, your smile, the easiness that seeped into his chest and lifted all his worries away – they shouldn’t have happened, you and him shouldn’t have happened, none of it should have happened. but it did, and that’s what felt so nightmarish to him.

because he knows, like how he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green, that the saint and the sinner are not meant to be.

hongjoong frowns as he sits silently by the edge of his bed. the many thoughts he had about you somehow managed to drown out the fact that his crew have to dock at eridanus out of all places, and the reminder is enough to make him groan in frustration.

for the first time in a while, hongjoong feels like something bad is about to happen.

arriving in eridanus comes before noon, just as how yunho had predicted, and you’re quick to catch on to why the navigator and the captain had such negative views on the kingdom.

the moment you stepped off the vessel alongside the rest of the crew and begin your journey on foot towards the kingdom, the first thing you noticed was how beautiful the lands are. the landscape consists of more bodies of water than you’ve ever seen (or rather, heard) in other places, rivers and lakes accompanying the lush greenery that surrounded the outskirts of the kingdom. around half an hour into your journey, you had encountered a waterfall, and to say that you were amazed is an understatement – you were entranced.

the others? not so much. you were curious as to why they decided to take the longer path around the waterfall just to not cross it, but you took the opportunity to venture out for a quick minute to get closer.

unfortunately for you, seonghwa was quick to stop you by grabbing onto your wrist and dragging you back.

“rule number one while we’re in eridanus,” the blond pirates whispered. “we never, ever go near the water. especially waterfalls and lakes.”

“…why?” you whispered back, even when you had no idea on why the two of you were conversing in such a hushed manner.

“sirens.” seonghwa turned to look at you, urgency in his eyes that almost made your heart drop. “eridanus is basically infested with them. it’s best to stay away from any bodies of water here.”

“sirens?” you had questioned in disbelief. “i thought they only lived in the ocean.”

“… we did too.” seonghwa responded, and you noticed how his face fell as he stared forward. you wanted to pry some more, but quickly decided not to. the way seonghwa kept quiet afterwards with his face still solemn was enough to tell you that the crew definitely had some bad experiences.

if the fact that the kingdom is crawling with deadly sirens wasn’t enough for you to hate the kingdom as much as the rest of the crew does, then the absolute graveyard equivalent of the kingdom’s atmosphere definitely did it for you.

you were able to see the castle from miles away, but what caught your attention were the tall walls surrounding the kingdom that probably reached over 30 meters in height – and around the wall is a wide, deep moat.

“don’t look down.” hongjoong had warned as you and the rest of the crew stepped onto the wooden bridge that led towards the main gate. for the others, it was easy to comply with their captain’s warning, but you? it was hard for you to ignore the splashing that came from the waters in the moat, and you swear upon the stars that you could hear someone calling out for you in a hauntingly melodic voice.

the walk across the bridge left your knees shaking by the end of it, and seonghwa flashed you a quick smile as if to congratulate you for not looking down and getting yourself killed.

once you walked pass the main gate, you instantly noticed how… dead the people looked.

“gloomy as ever,” you hear yunho comment. “i hope we get out of here soon.”

“we will,” hongjoong turns around from his spot at the front of the group to face everyone. “as soon as we finish our work here, which will be discussed tonight after i find us a place to stay. in the meantime, feel free to walk around within safe distance. don’t go anywhere alone.”

hongjoong’s eyes seem to avert their attention to you as he said the last sentence, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it’s meant for.

“we will gather in the town square during sunset.” the captain announces one more time, and the rest of the crew give their nods as a sign of apprehension. as the group disperses, seonghwa leaves your side to walk over to hongjoong, presumably to accompany him on finding somewhere for the crew to spend their nights at. once he leaves with his captain, a familiar red head approaches you.

“wanna go explore with us?” wooyoung offers with a hopeful smile. “san and i are going café hopping.”

“boring,” another voice interrupts, and you notice it’s the bright orange haired guy who you never got the chance to meet properly before. “yunho and i will be bar hopping. wanna join us, princess?”

“she’s a queen, mingi.” san promptly corrects, earning himself a hard glare from the other pirate – mingi, you note. “at least get your facts right before trying to steal her from us.”

“same thing!” mingi huffs, and you fight the urge to chuckle.

“actually,” you speak up, earning the attention of the others. “i do feel like having some pastries right now.”

“hah!” wooyoung claps once and reaches out to grab your hand, dragging you over to stand in between him and san. “knew you’d be faithful. yunho and mingi won’t treat you right.”

“you’re just glad someone else other than san actually likes you.” yunho bites back with a teasing smile. wooyoung places a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically before turning away from the tall duo.

“i can’t be around these drunkards anymore, let’s go.” the red headed pirate drags you away from yunho and mingi, san following closely from behind. you turn around to give the other two a quick wave goodbye before catching up with wooyoung’s speed walking.

you’re rather grateful for the enthusiasm that basically leaks out of the two pirates accompanying you, because you think you’d be so easily influenced by the other townsfolk within the kingdom. wooyoung lets go of your hand after a moment, although you don’t react to it since you’re too busy staring at the people around you. the sluggish manner in the way they walk pass you makes you frown, the lack of enjoyment in their faces even for the children making you feel uneasy.

you also feel like something is missing in the kingdom, but you can’t figure out exactly what. it feels important, you think, something that has been present within your own kingdom before and within cygnus, but not here.

you don’t notice the way that you’ve been spacing out until you feel yourself bump against someone, and you’re quick to get back your senses.

“oh, i’m sorry.” you apologize hurriedly. “i wasn’t paying attention to where i was going.”

the person you bumped into doesn’t say anything, and your heart pounds nervously within the confines of your chest. had you accidentally made them upset? you can’t afford getting in trouble now, the others would kill you for not being careful – especially the captain.

“don’t worry,” the person responds, and your ears perk up from how nice his voice sounds. “i do not mind.”

you tilt your head up to offer an appreciative smile at the stranger, but you’re immediately taken aback from his looks – not in the bad way, but in fact in the best way, if that even exists. the stranger has a cloak over his head, one that’s quite similar to yours, and his features seem so incredibly soft yet so sculptured, it makes him look like a living, breathing statue. you notice how there’s some kind of a birthmark that starts by the edge of his eye and spreads towards his temple.

“miss?” the stranger tilts his head at you. embarrassed over the fact that you were shameless staring at a stranger, you step back once with a nervous laugh.

“ah, i’m sorry again–” you mutter. “it’s just, uh, i like your birthmark. it’s pretty.”

complimenting strangers now, are we? you mentally ridicule yourself. you feel like running away somewhere to hide and never emerge.

“… is that so?” the stranger seems to be surprised by your words. “you’re not from around here, are you?”

“uhm,” you stutter, trying to figure out on how to respond properly. “no, i’m not. i’m just a, uh, travelling merchant!”

you plaster on a wide smile, one that you hope doesn’t look far too fake. the stranger nods once before deciding to question you again.

“i see. where do you come from?”

“py–” you cut yourself off just in time. “... cygnus. i’m from cygnus.”

you’re unsure why, but a part of yourself doesn’t think that introducing yourself to hail from pyxis would be a good idea – especially when eridanus probably already heard the news of the missing queen.

the stranger simply stares at you for a few quiet moments. you can feel the palm of your hands getting clammy, and you’re beginning to wonder where the hell wooyoung and san have gone to.

“i see,” the stranger finally speaks, a gentle smile forming on his face. “then i welcome you warmly to eridanus.”

“… thank you.” you mutter. “it’s been lovely so far.”

the lie goes straight through your teeth so easily that you almost feel like you’re telling the truth – which is far from being the case. before the stranger could say anything else, you feel someone grabbing onto the sleeve of your shirt before linking their arm with yours.

“honey, there you are!” san exclaims enthusiastically, and you jolt in surprise. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you. didn’t i tell you to not go alone anywhere?”

you feel a muscle on your face twitch after the dark haired pirate says the last sentence, but you decide to play along just for the sake of it.

“i’m sorry, i must have spaced out and accidentally went somewhere else.” you give san a tight-lipped smile, one that he responds by narrowing his eyes.

“that’s alright, i understand.” the pirate smiles back before turning his attention to the cloaked stranger.

“i’m sorry if she has caused any trouble, we’ll be on our way now.” san offers a quick bow towards the stranger, who responds well with a bow of his own. san doesn’t waste another minute before dragging you away with him, and you merely allow yourself to be dragged off.

“… your highness?” a familiar voice speaks up from behind the cloaked stranger, who merely sighs in response.

“jongho, have i not told you to drop the formalities when we’re alone?”

“right,” jongho clears his throat. “your– ah, i mean, yeosang.”

“there you go,” yeosang smiles gently at the other young man as he turns around to face him. “what is it?”

“those two outlanders earlier,” jongho furrows his eyebrows, as if disturbed by the mere mention. “they’re hiding something. i don’t trust them.”

yeosang hums. there’s definitely something amiss with the pair he had just encountered, there’s no doubt about it – but a side of him doesn’t want it to be true, if there’s truly something off about them, especially the woman.

suddenly, yeosang feels like his birthmark is burning into his skin.

pretty, huh? the dark haired man recalls your words with a heavy heart. his birthmark has been called all sorts of names before – ugly, repulsive, weird, unfitting for a prince, cursed.

but never pretty.

it’s probably the fact that you’re an outlander makes you oblivious to the fact that his birthmark is anything but pretty, yet yeosang still feels like he’s lightheaded from your words.

“… just keep an eye on them,” yeosang sighs, keeping his eyes casted downwards. “if they really are up to something, report to me first. understood?”

“yes, your highness.” jongho nods, deciding to ignore the way yeosang frowns at the way he went back to using formalities with him.

as the young prince lifts his head to gaze into the sea of people, his people, he can’t help the growing guilt in his chest. he hopes that no one else shall fall victim and have their blood spilt on eridanus grounds.

next.

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