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lovesickry · 3 days

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- (e)x marks the spot ⁴

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x reader [2.5k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ synopsis: basically what the title says, Martin garrix feature, random other character also featured. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: 18+, toxicity, minors dni, unedited. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: um based on an audio I heard the other day

lando didnt get angry, lando got distant. the week you broke up, you think you spoke a grand total of 3 times. one being the time in which you broke up. it was mutual, but god sometimes you think you missed him far too much.

it had been a painful and monotonous few months of swiping through countless dating apps. losing count of how many of the dates had been just as mediocre and forgettable as the last. today, you hoped would be different, his name was Liam. he had rescheduled the initial date and now invited you to a gig at a club in London. he picked you up at 8 , he was nice, less talkative than you but funny enough. arriving at the club was chaotic, the line was around the block and your mouth dropped when you realised Liam was walking straight past it, to the guy on the door.

"should be on the list, under Martin" he said, before the guy waves him through.

you follow him in, his hand leading yours swiftly through the crowds of people, purple light obscuring your vision. the first drink hits you much too slow as you look next to him and smile at a joke you can't remember him telling. the music seems to have a kind of buzzing effect on the air particles which surround you and mixed with the alcohol its intoxicating. Liam's hand is on your back as he guides you further into the sweaty pit of dancers, near the DJ booth. your mind is fuzzy and Liam's hands are all over you, focusing on the small of your back uncovered by your top. you close your eyes for a amount and wait for the beat to drop as the bass seems to shake the floor. opening your eyes, your met with the figure of Liam now approaching the DJ booth and you follow him like a lost dog, not wanting to get lost in the crowd. hes leaning over the swarms of people towards the sweaty man in the middle wearing a cap and he ushers you forward.

"Martin this is y/n" he turns around and immediately you know you're fucked.

of course it was him, someone you already knew, that's great.

you'd met Martin Garrix on a number of occasions in Monaco when still with lando, never alone though, you wonder if he recognised you.

he shakes your hand as if strangers, though with a kind of smirk that unsettled the sediment in your stomach.

"lando should be round here somewhere" he responds, answering the unasked question.

"thanks" you answer curtly.

once it has been an acceptable amount of time between introductions you whip your head around in the hopes for Liam to lead you out of this maze but he is nowhere to be seen and there is another face in the crowd who seems to have just spotted you. your eyes widen, your sober enough to know your heart should not be beating this fast. you frantically look around for a sign of your date and spot him 2 bodies away, you squeeze your way to him and begin in the best possible fashion to try and repel lando. you knew if he came up to you, you'd regret anything you did. you always did with lando. Liam must have not got the message you were trying so desperately to send him, because the next word coming out of his mouth made your breath halt.

"Oi! Lando! mate!" he shouts with a wave and smiles over to the man in a button down shirt.

you see his head perk up and look around before he spots an eager looking Liam, next to a blank faced you. fuck, this was it now wasn't it? christ.

" 'm just gonna go get a drink " you hurriedly tell Liam.

"alright" he dismissed.

you leave just as lando reaches him and shakes his hand harshly before pulling him into a hug, do they actually know each other? you quickly whip your head forward as you navigate your way to the bar. you respect the irony, that you're reaching for the item that was most likely to make the bad decisions, in the hopes you would not make them, but that piece of information seemed to slip your mind.

you arrived at the bar, in a heightened state, visually tense and anxious as you ordered a vodka lime and soda, and then another one, putting them all on Liam's opened tab.

you stand against the bar and wonder if this was all a kind of karmic punishment for something, as Lando and Liam make their way directly towards you.

"fuck me" you mutter under your breath before they both step into your view.

"hmm 'm need a drink too" Liam slurred out.

"also... this is lando" he explains, gesturing to the figure next to him whom eyes seemed much too dark to be purely thoughtless.

you're frozen, why does that happen.

"we know each other" he interrupts before you can get anything out, looking you up and down with a small smile.

"oh great" he says, obvlious to lando's innuendo while he orders his drink

lando is already standing dangerously close to you and you dont have the energy or will to tell him to stand back. you missed him, as much as you were afraid to admit it, his touch was soothing to your stiff, aching body.

"havin' fun?" he questions in your ear, lip brushing the cartilage.

shivers run down your spine as you think of a witty response and come up blank.

Liam is metres away against a beam chatting with another random guy as lando moves to face you.

"missed you"

"lando, dont"

"oh come on" "you're saying you didnt need saving from whatever the hell that was, think he liked me more than you, and I dont even have a pair of tits"

god he was so vulgar, you hated it.

"Liams nice" you say, not knowing if your convincing yourself or lando of this statement.

"sure he is" he says, gesturing to where Liam now was leant against a wall while a blonde girl seemed to be very interested in him.

theres nothing to say, not anything you can think of, theres too much history and you want to say too much, but your mind is swimming and the alcohol is blurring everything you want to say into an uncontrollable lust for his touch.

he's sincere when he grazes his fingers over his arm and brings you closer to him.

"let me make it up to you" he whispers to you, before bringing his drink to his mouth before offering it you.

your heart and stomach squeeze at the prospect, body all but keening into him, your hand reflexively gripping his arm, which is now tense under you touch, his muscles taut and hard.

"missed you so much" he says, again, whispering and then taking a sip of his drink. you're not sure how much he means it, but you're not sure how much you mean what you're saying either.

"we broke up for a reason" you say, trying so desperately to be the voice of reason between the 2.

"did we?" he says.

that seals it, just this once, you acknowledge that he doesnt treat you right but he never said he would, at least you know his feelings are real, you think, he'd always been the obsessive type.

"ye-" you try and get out, but its useless, your body has made your decision for you and it wants needs lando.

"no" he interrupts.

your eyes meet his and his gaze is hard, fixed on you. not threatening but possessive as his lips get closer to yours.

the kiss is blurred with animosity and tenderness as he holds you so tightly you might fall through him.

"my place is like 5 minutes away" he says, pulling away, out of breath.

"thought we were gonna fuck on the floor?" you say, hoping to break the stiff tension surrounding you both.

"you wish" he remarks, reaching for his phone.

the short drive is torture as Lando teases your inner thighs. Liam long forgotten as he whispers vulgar, horrible things in your ear while his hands stroke the soft sensitive skin.

when you arrive at his apartment there is no longer any control between the two of you, lando swings his door open, nearly launching it off its hinges as you both collide in an ugly gnashing of teeth fighting for any type of control over the other. you palm his boxers and his tongue stutters for a moment causing you to gain the upper hand while your other hand moves between his tangled curls. the kiss is bruising and leaves you out of breath as his mouth leaves yours and moves to your neck.

"mine? yeah?" he says to you before gently biting on your collarbone and leaving what feels like a large hickie to find tomorrow morning.

"yeah" you breath out, embarrassingly high pitched.

he laughs into your skin, while his mouth worships your collarbones, his hands begin untying your top and dragging the thin fabric down. you whine as his lips leave your skin and his eyes darken at the sight.

"fuck your tits are perfect" "almost forgot"

the praise runs swiftly and hotly to your core as his hands immediately rise to knead your breasts and his mouth begins fervently kissing them. you're so wet christ its embarrassing , your rubbing your legs together and silently begging lando to pay youre core any semblance of attention.

"want something?" he teases, obviously noticing the squirming.

"want you so bad" you say, unbuttoning his already low shirt.

"knew you did baby" he says, smiling and ridding himself of his shirt now simply unbuttoned and thrown to the floor.

"shut up" you say, rolling your eyes.

"says the girl begging for my dick" he retorts, hands fiddling with the button of your skirt as he pushes against you to lie down on the bed. he opens your legs and licks his lips.

"yeah youre definitely not this wet for Luis" he says, purposefully getting his name wrong

"Liam" you say, still stubbornly keeping a thread of dignity.

"Liam" he says with a crude laugh, before lightly licking up your slit causing you to shiver.

"wet for me. huh baby?" he repeats

"yeah" you say, high pitched and breathless as lando introduces a finger to your throbbing cunt.

"what's my name?"

"lando" you say, praising him.

"good" he says, before diving back into you.

he's scarily good with his mouth and your legs are shaking before you even have time to think of the repercussions of this decision.

"he didnt do that, did he?" his face flushed and wet from your cunt. "gonna tell me how good I am"

"you're chatty tonight" you breath out, lando had always been a talker, never been able to shut his mouth for too long at a time.

"you fuckin' love it" he hums while undoing his trousers, your staring at him through your eyelashes and he pretends to not notice, not to care. he returns to you, hard and hot and ready.

“you gonna be good for me baby?” he taunts.

you just look at him, unable to give him any satisfaction by responding.

"do you want me to be good?" you ask, breathlessly.

"no" he says, hands planted on your thighs.

"look at me baby" he says

you mindlessly reply as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

"fucking hell" "missed you" "shit"

god you hated when he was right, when you fit together so well, when he felt this good. your bodies moulded together, warm bodies, your hands clutching at his back as he slowly draws himself in and out, prying a reaction out of you. lando puts his head down and begins kissing up your neck once again, biting and nipping whenever he saw fit, slowly building his rhythm.

"smell so good baby" "did I get you that perfume?" he asks, suddenly voice clear as he stopped his movement inside of you, your cunt still squeezing him. you're suddenly mentally conscious to answer his question.

"yes" you whisper, still remembering the day he had bought it for you, the smile plastered on your face when he gave you the small wrapped package tied with some string.

he does not respond but resumes his actions harsher than before filled with a boiling rage at the idea of you wearing his perfume for someone else. your jaw is slack, eyes fluttering and your stomach is tightening at his continues hard thrusts.

"aw getting tired, getting close?" he taunts, tongue flicking out to touch your ear.

suddenly he interrupted the equilibrium of the warmth that encompassed both of you, the sweat, the heat, the salt that seemed to hover in the air. rolling off of you and then lifting you on top of him. now looking down at him he looked absolutely fucking sinful, perfectly perfect, you could feel your eyes droop and your face blush at the sight as he lifted you slightly and began to lower you down.

"fuck-fuck" you mutter through your staggered moans and whimpers.

"so pretty baby" he says, eyes boring into you as a glaze covered your eyes.

he sensed your exhaustion, your need for release and decides to be nice.

"c'mon let me do it" he mutters, bringing you down so your chest is against his and he can do all the work for you.

"put your head in my shoulder baby" he says as you adjust your face so it settles in the crane of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent before you take time to leave a little gift of your own for the next day.

"ill do it, ill make it better" he promises as he grabs your hips with a bruising grip and begins pushing you up and down onto him.

"I got you" he reassures, your breath getting more and more fractured with each movement inside you.

"aw baby" he whispers, youre so close, right on the fucking edge, and then he stops, he grows still, he releases your hips and he stops.

"only me yeah?" he asks, tilting his mouth towards your head nestled in his neck. "nobody else" he continued.

you'd say anything if he'd just keep going, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the truth.

"just you" you mutter "only you" "fuck" you gasp finally as he begins moving again.

and youre right there again, just hanging on, your eyes squeeze shut, your stomach squeezes and your hand seems to claw at any available skin. meanwhile lando's breath is becoming far more erratic, his grunts much more aggressive as he pounds relentlessly into your soaking cunt.

"I love you" he finally says, before surrendering. "I love you" you respond before joining him

you'd think it was heaven the way you came together, beautifully and slow, breaths matching the other as he kissed every inch of skin available to him and you wrapped your arms around his warm body.

maybe tomorrow you'd regret it, maybe tomorrow you'd hate him, but right now, he was yours. you loved him.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 10 hours

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If Words Were Actions - Lewis Hamilton

Switching Team pt 4 (finale)

Dark fic 18+ - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Warnings/themes: Age gap, smut , coercion, manipulation, corruption/innocence kinks, gaslighting, parental intervention, baby trapping, revenge

Y/n sighs biting her lip as she looks down at the test. Positive.

If her dad was going to kill her at any point in her life, it's now. But equally, she's happy.

"Y/n?" Lewis calls knocking on the door making her swallows thickly sitting down on the closed toilet seat. "Y/n, will you unlock the door?"

He didn't know she'd bought the test, her habit of hiding things when she doesn't know what reaction she'll get is one that she might always have even with the level of trust she has in Lewis.

But equally. She feels young and the relationship feels so new.

"Y/n?" Lewis calls again sounding more annoyed this time. She never locks the door, so there's reason for him to be confused and possibly frustrated.

She throws the wrappers in the bin and places the test in the bottom of the sink, she'll have to show him. No point in hiding it. Especially the way he gets at her during sex. The man is like an unending pit of hunger for sex, not that she isn't always that eager too. In fact it's gotten to the point where sometimes she misses just feeling full with him.

Y/n unlocks the door taking in a deep breath and smiling at Lewis as he appears as the door swings open, his dark iris' hiding his pupils while he seems to trying and to a quick up and down of her as an explanation as to why she's been locked in there for so long. Then he pulls a face as if he's waiting for her to explain.

"I'm pregnant." Y/n states almost feeling like her voice sounds foreign to her.

"Amazing." Lewis grins unable to hide his excitement. "Baby, that's amazing."

"Is it?-You're happy?" Y/n murmurs very much shocked, she at least expected some surprise about it.

"Baby, this is great news. Are you not happy?" Lewis questions softening slightly, he knows he's forcing her into a position in which she essentially has to be happy because he's happy.

"I...Well yes, I'm happy. I mean it's great." Y/n confirms earning a grin from the older man before he kisses her.

"How far along do you think you are?"

"No more than a month I don't think." Y/n shrugs then gesturing to the sink. "The test says 3-4 weeks, but maybe I should wait a little longer and take another one in a couple weeks."

"Yeah, we can test again in a couple more weeks." Lewis nods with a smile then kissing her a couple times. "But this is good news, our little family."

That earns a smile before she loops her arms around the back over his neck.

Lewis did at least wait a couple weeks but after more tests and even a blood test confirm he's knocked her up.

Y/n is still living by his rule that she will not be talking to Toto, though Susie is allowed y/n has informed her step mother that she does not want to speak to Toto.

But Lewis thought this news was too good to go without Toto knowing.

"I think it's important we talk about y/n." Lewis states walking up to the man in the paddock which earns a sigh before Fred walks away since despite the tension between Lewis and Toto, Fred had really tried to be as uninvolved as possible.

"What about y/n? Aside from the fact I've noticed she now owns a very expensive new Ferrari. I assume a very generous gift from you?"

"She wanted one so I guess it to her and in return, she's pregnant." Lewis smirks the victory coursing through his veins as if he just took that 8th title that Toto had promised him time and time again.

Toto's hands are at Lewis' collar in a split second of a moment earning gasps and almost as if perfectly timed both Susie and y/n appear, both of them running towards the men where y/n pushes Toto away from Lewis, standing as a division between the men.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" Y/n questions tearful eyes as she places her hand reached back to press on Lewis' stomach, keeping her touch on him.

"Are you pregnant?" Toto hisses making her flinch and Susie steps forward.

"Don't. She is an adult."

"She is being used and now he's got her pregnant with the intentions of purely upsetting me-which has worked so now you can drop the act that this is anything genuine." Toto shouts not caring if the whole paddock knows their business.

"Come on baby, the stress isn't good for you-he isn't good for you." Lewis states moving closer up behind her and placing his own hand over her tummy while he gaze flicks to him before looking back at her dad, nothing but hurt on her face. "We don't even want to talk to him."

"Y/n, listen to his words. He is getting in your head and controlling you."

"We don't even want to waste time talking to him." Lewis states while Toto looks at her almost desperately.

The defining moment.

If she walks away now, Toto knows he did the damage to lose her for good and Lewis perfectly fed into it till he knew that she was like play dough in his hands. Entirely mouldable to however he wants her.

There's a part of him that slips away when y/n steps back away from him. A piece of his soul torn and he realises that Lewis really has won.

"Let's go." Lewis mumbles linking their hands and moving her away.

"Toto-"

"No, he wins. He's got her away from me, she'll never talk to me again, now I'll never get to meet my grandchild and he's doing it all on purpose. Nothing I said was worth this type of revenge." Toto sighs earning a sad look from the woman.

Y/n is still too early to really be showing, but she's definitely felt the lethargic element of pregnancy. Though that could also be from the fact that pregnancy has increased her libido and Lewis is certainly not arguing about her seemingly constant need for orgasms.

though he does have a feeling the final nail in the coffin ending her and Toto's communication entirely has left her frustrated by the whole situation.

Y/n whines, quick short breaths as she soaks Lewis' hand, fingers squeezes in her pulsing spasms while her nails dig into the skins of his bicep.

"Couldn't even wait for us to get back to the hotel." Lewis chuckles while raising his fingers to her mouth waiting for her to take them in her mouth, sucking them clean of her own juices. "I should've got you pregnant straight away, it's really made you obedient to how I want you."

Other people might dwell on those words, they might latch onto them, frown at him about them and insist on them having deeper meaning. Especially since on this occasion they do.

But with y/n they go straight over her head.

When y/n looks at Lewis she sees her world now, he tucks her in at night and wakes her up in the mornings. He takes care of her and now they're going to have a family.

By the time they're in the hotel room, y/n is undressing down to her underwear and she's climbed into the bed that has one of the best views a hotel can give.

Capturing a pick of her in her underwear under some red lighting, Lewis captures a picture before sharing it online.

Toto's loud mouth shouting at them meant the pregnancy reveal was less than graceful but confirmation was given in the following days by Lewis. Albeit not the happiest of announcements and he made sure to make jabs at Toto for ruining was should've been a very nice moment for the couple.

"Come keep me warm." Lewis mumbles as her climbs into bed with her and pulls her over to lie with him sliding her panties off down her legs.

Y/n breathes a couple times, swallowing thickly and whining as she slides herself down, still somewhat slick from being fingered in the car ride to the hotel. Her slick as she lies down on his dick.

As usual a snug fit but she smiles settling down on him.

"I love you." Y/n whispers making him look up at her, inked hands rubbing her thighs.

Maybe what motivated him to pursue y/n wasn't love, and maybe it wasn't even really initial attraction. It was purely revenge.

But there is something that's switched.

He's fallen for y/n, and while he knows he can never truly give her the honesty she deserves from him, he'll just have to make up for it by giving her a life that is what she deserves.

And what she deserves is a life without Toto, he'll give her more kids to occupy her time and when they're not keeping her busy, it'll be him that makes sure she never has a spare moment to think about him.

"I love you too." Lewis smiles then rubbing her tummy. "And I love our baby, and we're both going to live a long happy life together. Our family is all that we need."

"Yeah?" Y/n smiles, her body lighting up as she looks at him brightly.

"100%."

"And Ferrari." Y/n adds making him break into a grin.

Buying y/n a Ferrari as a "congratulations, you fell into my trap and now you're pregnant with my baby" gift was an easy way to earn a smile. Even if she's a terror on the roads, he's fairly certain she's never checked the mirrors while taking a turn or a junction once. But she's happy and he can avoid being in the car with her unless it's a life or death situation.

"I think we owe everything to Ferrari." Lewis confirms then rolling them over and standing up. "Now get up against the window, I want to fuck you with a full view."

He might have eased up in terms of how hard and deep he'll go, but he hasn't eased up on how many orgasms and how long he wants to go for. If anything not going as hard has meant he's pulling more orgasms from her and making sure she leaves puddles on the hotel floors.

Displaying her at windows and taking the risk of being caught is his new favourite game. Mainly because he likes the thought of Toto seeing just how far his angel has fallen.

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 1 day

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2: UNWELCOME DISTANCE

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Dinner with Bucky didn't go as well as you planned and now you're suffering from the outcome of being ditched in an autumn thunderstorm.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: feelings of betrayal, shitty communications skills, illness (upper respiratory tract infection) description, Coney Island and cotton candy, jealousy, Bucky... Barnes is a warning

The following morning, you woke up feeling a little worse for wear. You buried your face in your pillow willing the tickle in your throat and at the back of your nose to disappear. A small groan left your lips as your attempt to sleep in was thwarted by the aching throughout your body. Sitting up did little to make you feel better, other than shifting the balance of mucus in your sinuses, making you sneeze and worsening the scratchiness of your throat. You looked up at the clock, you’d missed the breakfast time that you were expected to attend, but there weren’t any messages on your phone expressing concern from your friends.

A throb of self pity and doubt flashed through your mind. Did any of them even care? You had lost Bucky to another woman, but clearly none of your other friends had noticed your absence. You weren’t special, you’d only been invited to join the Avengers Initiative because of your powers. The thoughts were just forming, your mind ready to spiral into a storm of insecurity, when there was a knock at your door. Each movement felt like wading through molasses, and even sitting up seemed like an insurmountable task.

"Cricket?" Steve’s voice permeated into the room.

"Coming!" At least that was what you tried to say, your voice coming out as a small croak. You padded over to the door barefoot and opened the door to find Steve’s kind face looking down at you.

His concern was etched across his features as he took in your disheveled appearance. Dark circles clung to your eyes, and your skin had lost its usual healthy hue.

"Hey there, sunshine," he greeted, his voice gentle. "How’re you feeling?"

There was only one word that would succinctly sum up your emotional and physical state in that moment. "Shit," you mumbled, sniffing at the fluid that was threatening to leak from your nose.

He reached out, his hand cool against your feverish skin. His touch was comforting, grounding you in the midst of your misery. "You definitely have a fever," he confirmed.

As if to affirm his observation, your body pitched forwards in a violent sneeze, which you barely had the time to catch with the inside of your elbow. You ended the outburst with a pained groan, as the back of your throat burned.

Steve’s concern deepened. "You need rest," he said firmly, steering you back into bed. "I’ll make you some tea."

You followed his instructions without protest, not having the energy to argue. It would be best for you to stay in bed, you’d get better quicker with rest, and it was a great excuse to avoid seeing your best friend and his girlfriend. The practical side of you would use the excuse that you didn’t want to expose anyone to your germs. At least Steve would be protected by the serum, so you didn’t need to worry about him hanging around. So with a clear conscience, you snuggled back under your covers to wait for Steve’s return.

As he disappeared towards the kitchen, you sank back into your pillows. Maybe losing Bucky wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe having a friend like Steve was enough—a warm presence in the midst of your feverish chaos. And as the wind whistled outside, you realized that sometimes, friendship was the best medicine of all.

Little did you know that on his way to the kitchen, Steve ran into Bucky as he was leaving your room.

"Steve?" Bucky called after his friend.

"Hey, Buck."

"What’re you doing?" The real question he wanted to ask was ‘why are you leaving Cricket’s room?’.

"Just grabbing some things for Cricket. She isn’t feeling very well."

"What?" Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. "She was fine yesterday!"

"Well if you hadn’t left her alone to get drenched in that storm, she probably wouldn’t be so miserable." Steve hadn’t meant to be so harsh with his words, but you had interrupted his beauty sleep the previous night and he was feeling rather disgruntled.

"What’re you trying to say, Steve?

"You shouldn’t have left it so long to tell her." Steve was referring to Priya and how long he'd kept his relationship with her private.

"That’s my decision, Steve." Bucky countered, defensively.

"I know. But maybe you should think about why you were so ready to tell me, but not Cricket."

Bucky clicked his tongue against the roof of mouth, dismissing Steve's comments. "I'm gonna go and see her."

Steve thought about objecting, but decided against it, opting to fetch the things he had promised you.

Bucky’s footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway, each one a heavy reminder of his own recklessness. The storm had raged outside, rain pelting against the window panes like a thousand tiny fists. But he hadn’t been there to shield you from it. Instead, he’d left you alone, vulnerable, and now guilt gnawed at him like a persistent rat.

Your room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn shut against the gray morning. Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his knuckles grazing the wooden doorframe. He’d never been good with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But he had to try.

"Cricket?" His voice was soft, almost tentative. He stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his weight. There you were, cocooned in blankets, your face pale against the pillows. The storm had taken its toll on you, and he cursed himself for not being there.

You stirred, eyelashes fluttering open. "Bucky?" Your voice was a whisper, fragile like a spider’s silk. "What’re you doing here?"

He crossed the room in two strides, perching on the edge of your bed. "I… I heard you weren’t feeling well." His fingers brushed against your forehead, checking for fever. "Steve told me."

You managed a weak smile. "Steve’s a tattletale."

"He cares about you," Bucky said gruffly. "We both do."

"I feel bad for dragging him out of bed last night."

"Cricket, why didn't you tell me you didn't have any way to get back home. I would have brought a car instead of my bike."

You shrugged, “I didn’t think I had to.”

He had been so caught up in his plans to introduce you to Priya that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might need a ride home. He had assumed you would find your own way, and he was just starting to realize how selfish that had been. He should have been more attentive, more caring. He laid a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry, Cricket. I should have been more thoughtful. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Cricket, please, let me make it up to you. I was looking for you this morning. I made your favorite pancakes," Bucky continued. "Thought you could come and have breakfast with me and Priya, before I take her home."

"Sorry," you shrugged, hating this conversation more and more. Why was Steve taking so long to return?

"I was going to spend the day with her, but if you want, I can come back and we can watch some movies."

"Don't cancel your plans on my account." You rolled over, facing away from Bucky.

Your behavior stung, but he couldn't blame you for being angry. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "For leaving you out there."

"See you later," you mumbled and Bucky knew he had been dismissed.

Bucky couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his chest as he walked away. He had always been a good friend, someone who looked out for others and made sure they were taken care of. But in his excitement to introduce you to Priya, he had neglected to consider your needs.

As he walked away, Bucky couldn't stop replaying the conversation in his head. He had let you down, and he wanted to make things right.

Steve appeared a few moments after his departure, his arms laden with homely remedies and a bowl of soup which smelled incredible. Your stomach rumbled hungrily in response, making you blush.

"Here, take this first," Steve shoved a bottle of DayQuil under your nose.

Begrudgingly, you accepted the painkiller gratefully and then proceeded to slurp up the soup. "This is delicious," you hummed in approval.

"Hey, when you're feeling a bit better, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere… cheer you up a little." Steve stuttered towards the end as he saw surprise on your face.

You swallowed your mouthful of soup before cracking a smile. “Steve, I'd like that.”

Steve smiled back at you. But suddenly, he reached out, grabbing the bowI in your hands, having noticed the slight hitch in your breath. A sneeze rocked your body forcefully and you groaned.

“Thanks,” you accepted the bowl back from Steve.

"No problem. Don't want to make a mess."

“No,” you sighed, finishing the soup in a sad silence.

“Want me to stay?”

“No, it's okay. I'm just going to go back to sleep.”

Steve took the empty dishes and kissed your forehead, glad that it didn't feel as warm as it had earlier. “Feel better, champ.”

You sure hoped you would.

A few days later, you were back in fighting form. But much to Bucky's chagrin, he could never seem to catch your attention for more than a passing nod or wave. He wanted to make things right with you. He missed you, he wasn’t used to being so close to you but not being able to talk to you properly. He had the sneaking suspicion that your distance might not just be ill-timed schedules. Were you avoiding him? He wondered if you were still angry at him for not giving you a ride back home after your dinner with Priya. A feeling of melancholy settled over him as he speculated on all the things he could have done that made you take a step away from him. Every reason under the sun spiraled through Bucky’s mind except the real reason for your withdrawal.

Bucky had hoped that meeting someone else, someone who was interested in him would help him push away the feelings he had for you. Closure. That’s what they called it in the movies these days. But this didn’t seem like it was going quite the way he had anticipated. In fact, rather than feeling happier, he felt more tortured than he had before. Maybe going out with Priya would take his mind off things, so he decided to give her a call and schedule a date, she had a way of soothing his turbulent thoughts. Not as well as you did, no one understood him quite like you did.

Steve was true to his word, and had whipped up a surprise plan for the two of you to spend the day together. He had chosen a Wednesday, explaining that it was a good time as the place would be less busy. He made sure you had dressed warmly, in spite of the sunny weather.

"Don’t want you getting ill again," he smiled as you got into the car with him.

"Is that why we’re not taking the bike?"

Steve shook his head, knowing how much you loved riding motorcycles.

"So where are you taking me?" you asked. You’d been trying to get Steve to tell you for the last few days, but the tight lipped Captain had resisted all your wily techniques at information extraction.

"Coney Island."

"Ohh!" you exclaimed. "I haven’t been there for years!" You laughed before a thought popped into your head, a memory. "Are you sure you want to go there, Steve?"

"Why wouldn’t I want to go to Coney Island?"

"Well, I heard about… the… Cyclone Incident."

Steve blushed. "Bucky telling everyone that story, huh?"

"Afraid so." Your smile was soured slightly by the shadow casted by Bucky’s name and you turned to stare out of the window, letting Steve drive in silence.

Steve shook his head. He wanted nothing more than for both his best friends to be happy, and for the two of you to be happy together was the ultimate goal. He hoped that one day both of you would come to your senses, but until then, he would do his best to support you both.

The weather turned out to be fine and you had shed your top layer before even leaving the car.

"Oh come on! Stop being such a dad! We can always come back to the car if it gets chilly!" you responded to Steve’s disapproval.

"Come on then!"

It was a beautiful day filled with laughter and joy between you and Steve. He was glued to your side, treating you to all the rides, indulging you when you wanted to ride the Cyclone repeatedly. Every time you got to the end of the ride, you’d turn to him and make sure he wouldn’t spill his guts. Steve rolled his eyes dramatically as you laughed hysterically.

"What next?" Steve asked. "And don’t tell me we’re doing that again."

"Come on, the girl letting people in definitely has a crush on you! Why do you think we got on for free the last two times?"

Steve grabbed your wrist, "Come on!" He led you away from the rides, over to a cotton candy kiosk, dropping a few notes into the vendor's hand and selecting two cones. You took the liberty of grabbing the blue one from his hand and tucking into it before he had the chance to object.

"Bet I can eat this faster than you can!" Steve suggested slyly.

"Oh, bring it, Rogers!" You tore the stick out of the candy cloud and scrunched it up into a tiny ball, sticking it in your mouth and letting the sugar dissolve on its own.

Steve, who had taken several large bites, looked up in confusion and awe. He eyed your empty hands, then put his finger on your bottom lip, pushing it down and peering into your mouth.

You indulged his disbelief, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. "See, all gone! I win!" you smile with glee.

"Wow!"

"You forget, I was the youngest of five! I had to learn to eat fast or I’d lose out."

Steve chortled quietly at your story. "Fine, what do you want as your prize?" He waved around at all the game stalls, letting you pick your prize.

You gazed around, contemplating your options when you spotted a giant stuffed wolf. "That one!"

Steve was true to his word and threw every bean bag with perfect aim and you pointed at a white plushie which looked a little different to the others.

"Why don’t you take this one?" the vendor tried to shove a dark gray wolf into your arms, but you declined.

"No thank you, I’d like that one please." You selected one which had been stuffed on a high shelf, away from the others of its kind.

"Honey, this one’s going in the garbage, look at him, white body with one gray leg. It’s a defective product, they made a mistake in the factory. Happens from time to time."

But you were adamant, you wanted the white wolf with the transplanted leg.

"Whatever you want, miss." The vendor handed you the soft toy, which you hugged to your chest. There was something about him that you wanted to keep safe.

Unbeknownst to you, you had been spotted by someone unexpected. Bucky had had a similar thought to Steve, he had brought Priya to the ‘island’ on a quiet weekday for some harmless fun.

"Jamie, look!" Priya tugged at his sleeve. "Isn't that Cricket and Steve?"

Bucky's head whipped around so fast, he almost had empathy for whiplash sufferers. He frowned, eye searching the crowd in the direction of Priya’s outstretched hand. He couldn't believe that you would come here with Steve. He had often suggested a trip to Coney Island to you, but you'd never managed to make the time for it. So seeing you here with Steve made his insides burn with jealousy. Another part of him, his guilt-ridden conscience told him that he didn't deserve you. Naturally, you'd choose the classical hero, Steve. He was the golden boy, even when they'd been kids, Steve was the trouble maker, but somehow Bucky was the one his parents mistrusted.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"Let's go over and say hi!"

"I'm sure they don't want us to interrupt them." Bucky vetoed the suggestion with a sulky expression.

"Fair, I mean I wouldn't want anyone interrupting our date either." Priya smiled, taking Bucky's hand, leading him away. Bucky stole one last glance at his two best friends, a deep ache settling inside him as Priya dragged him away from you.

Over the next week, you and Bucky drifted through the compound, both longing for the other but not quite able to find it within yourselves to seek the other out. For you, it was a simple matter of avoidance. You'd made the mistake of touching the flame and now you suffered the burn. But for Bucky it was different. He couldn't understand your absence and he knew nothing of your pain.

He could feel the frustration building up inside him, until one day he caught you returning to your room. And every one of his thoughts and accusations came pouring out.

"What is it? Why’re you upset with me?" Bucky demanded.

"I’m not upset… it’s not- I’m hurt. You hurt me. It’s not that you did something wrong. In fact you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just that I thought you’d share something big, like dating, with me. But you kept it secret. For four months! I thought we told each other everything. I … I just expected-" you shrugged. "And that’s the problem here. My expectations were wrong, and I’m ashamed. But you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. But somehow I feel like I’m going to lose you."

"You’ll never lose me, Cricket."

"But Buck, I already have. Like she said… she’s your best friend now." Bucky opened his mouth to interrupt, but you put your hand out to stop him talking. "I just need some time to deal with that. Is that okay?"

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he mumbled. The sincerity evident in his tone and face.

"I know, Buck," you sighed. "I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. Please, I want you to be happy. I’m happy for you."

"Please, let me make this up to you." Bucky grabbed your wrist, desperately.

"You can do that by making sure you take care of yourself. I’m always going to be with you, on missions and stuff, partner," you patted his upper arm. "I just think that our friendship’s going to change a little… and I just need some time to get used to that."

"Is this because of Steve?"

"Steve?" you repeated after him, feeling confused by the change in topic. "What does Steve have to do with this?"

"Are you together?"

"What? No! Bucky, why would you think that?"

"I just…" He shrugged, not quite able to bring up seeing you at Coney Island, or the moment of closeness you had had with Steve the night he had introduced you to Priya.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction

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samodivaa · 2 days

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frenzy of lust and sin 1〗

Pairing: Instructor!Bucky x Recruit!Reader

Summary: During your training to become an agent, you've earned the moniker "Sergeant's girl" around the base—that doesn't give him the right to be possessive or jealous, but what gives you the right to be a brat? Warnings: sexual tension, age gap, sparring Words: 3.4k

Bucky knows that the body is not a thing of wild magic, but a collection of chemicals, tissues, and nerve impulses. Thoughts are no more than electrical surges in the brain. Sexual arousal is no more than a flow of chemicals to certain nerve endings. Sadness no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum. In short, the body is a machine, subject to the same laws of electricity and mechanics as an electron or clock. As such, the body must be addressed in the language of physics. And if the body speaks, it is the speaking only of so many levers and forces. The body is a thing to be ordered, not obeyed. But the feeling is not leaving, he can’t control it. Jealousy. He is witnessing himself become daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity. But in the end, it’s an instinctive feeling. Your presence has flattered him from the first time you met, you are full of ambition which leads Bucky to adopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive anyone.

He keeps the acquaintance and has no temptation to show his rough side in your company, and has the sense to be ashamed of being rude towards such a young lady. You are the only recruit who gets this side of him, but it is a secret in his heart, he is guilty of such a secret, because he has to forcefully hold it. He keeps his hold on his affections towards you unalterably, not showing what he is truly feeling. With all his superiority as your hand to hand combat instructor, he finds it difficult to keep it professional as more time passes. As he falls more for you. ============================== The moment you enter the room, he discerns your soft-featured face, pensive and amiable in expression, eyes which are large and serious, your figure almost too graceful. It forms a sweet picture―and your aura. It's…intoxicating. It's shining, it always shines.

“Good morning, Bucky” you have a sweet, low manner of speaking as you walk towards where he is sitting. “Good morning” his voice sounds ill-natured, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the secret he knows about you. He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but it is too much, even for Bucky.

You reflect for an instant, with knitted brows “Are you okay?” “Of course I am, why do you ask?” he whispers crossly.

A surprised laugh almost breaks free from your lips, because his naturally reserved disposition is exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of moroseness today and you wonder why that is. Bucky slightly widening his eyes, parts of his lips, but there is absence of arrogance as his features become unreadable again. He rises up from the bench, but you have no time to express your worry further as you gaze at him with a troubled countenance, because it might be something deeper. ==============================

It is all because of three days ago.

As he carries his basket to the laundry room, he spots a look for a washing machine with a finished cycle. He opens the door and unloads the freshly washed clothes, placing them into the basket in front of the machine―but these clothes are familiar. Leggings, he knows them by heart. Curiosity is gluttony. It is a great temptation to look through all of them, piece by piece. And although his demeanor is calm, his eyes betray a maelstrom of emotions—his self-control is shattering. The impulse lurks. His gaze moves downwards. To his crotch. Jesus. He is hard. And sometimes, to regain sanity, he has to acknowledge and embrace the madness. Bucky wavers for a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled by the naughty spirit within him, sits on the floor and finds a red dress underneath the leggings―curiosity sparking in his eyes as his lids to twinkle, because he has never imagine you wearing such feminine clothing. Until now. He wants to see the curve of your back, the dress clinging to your chest and waist, flaring over your hips—and certainly wants to look at your tits in it.

“Fuck” His throat gurgles slightly, looking at the cloth through his lashes like the starved man he is. It is almost impossible to express himself out loud, satisfaction speaks louder than words. He is overwhelmed by emotions, leaving him both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. He neglects his throbbing cock, but his attention remains the dress as he falls victim to countless daydreams.

There is scarcely time to experience a thrill of his arousal before he sees something else—male boxers. He stands stunned. Paralyzed. Breathless. But there is no time for inaction. His mind floods as he tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

—Men are punished by their sins, not for them.

Seeing the boxers, he speaks of lust in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed—illusions are bound to be shattered, reality finally sets in. An indescribable look flits across his face, because that sparks his anger. It is so wrong to feel like this, yet he is firmly persuaded that a great deal of his consciousness, in fact, is a disease, the more deeply it sinks into that mire and the more ready he is to sink in it altogether—Jealousy. He hates those insoluble problems and contradictions of human nature, and that he is capable of conquering his fragile inner center—only silence remains. To take back his power in any given situation, he needs to focus on the things he can control. The thoughts he chooses to think is usually the best place to begin, but by a natural impulse his mind starts to wonder—about this man kissing you, touching you, fucking you.

==============================

That’s how his unusual behavior is fueled, expressed, plainer than words could do, the intense anguish at having made himself the instrument of opposing his own jealousy. You enter the room and he is already waiting for you and as you approach the bench where he is sitting, he is supposing you are going to say something, looking up. The expression of his face seems disturbed and anxious as three days ago, lips are half asunder, as if he wants to speak, and draws a breath, but it escapes with a sigh instead of a normal sentence.

“You know, relationships are not allowed here” “What are you talking about?” you pursue, kneeling down by him and lifting your winsome eyes to his face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper, even when it is right in his own world to indulge it. “It is part of the rules, you sighed it” he goes on, less sulkily. “Yeah and I am not in a relationship” you respond, peevishly rising to your feet. “You just slept with some random guy?” “It is not against the rules” you exclaim in an irritated tone, chafing your hands together and frowning.

“So how was the sex?” he asks too casually, his countenance growing graver. Bucky has an unusual gloom in his face, that makes you dread something from which you might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe. Will he expel you from the training program?

“What do you mean?” you ask, with an accent of indignation. “How was it” he asks, emphasizing each syllable “When he fucked you?” —Jealous makes tongue unconscious

You avoid aggravating his fiery temper by staying silent, not knowing what attendees his anger and the curiosity of your personal life. His behavior today provokes you exceedingly, but you lay the blame on his latest mission which was a disaster. He doesn’t have power to conceal his emotions anymore, it sets his whole complexion in a blaze. Bucky rises from the bench, scoops up his water bottle, takes a long gulp from it and impatiently bades you to go to the training mats, terminating the conversation with a sequel of horrid imprecations in his mind. You know that It is as much a part of him as his limbs, this need to make sure that you are safe, to protect you. But this is the first time that he hasn't been so kind to you. And you remember a definition of chivalry you’d heard once: a man protecting a woman against every man but himself. Through the madness of his words, a part of his soul is revealed—a part of him that has to do with the past. Even if people around him try to forget it, the past remembers him. That void in his chest fills with anger sometimes and it is scary to witness it.

You don’t want to spar with him, but you won’t back down either—back and forth you go, shifting your feet and moving across the mat like some wild, ferocious tango. It is exhilarating to be moving like this with you, so close Bucky can see your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, little drops of sweat as they run down your face. Then it happens. You couldn’t get your arms up in time and Bucky’s next kick hit you squarely in the side. The attempt to conceal the pain doesn’t work as you feel all the strength go out of you as your back hits the ground hard. In a second he gets on top, which makes you wriggle and squirm, trying to throw him off. He grins down at you, enjoying his momentary superiority and the feeling of your smaller body underneath his. You don’t let the mental block or panic control you, ideas flow so rapidly that you have not time to decide what to do—you scowl adorably and arch up against him in a way that sends electricity through him—and that unbalances him enough for you to flip him over and straddle him. —He is a mournful wreck ruined by his biggest weakness, you. You are on top now, pinning him, grinning down with sparkling eyes. He is exasperated, because he doesn’t know what this look means. He put it somewhere between indifference and pride. Your eyes are so intense he wants to look away—or never look away, he can’t decide, but he keeps his gaze fixed on you as if you fear that you would vanish if he is to remove it. To his shock, the heavy breathing, the rush of adrenaline and endorphins, the intense stare, the rivulets of sweat, arouses him even more.

“It was nice” you declare, emphatically, speaking sincerely “The sex was nice” you add in a tone particularly calculated to provoke him.

You seem to allow yourself such wide latitude with both your actions and words today, it really leaves him speechless and you laugh at his reaction as if you are inclined to make it no laughing matter to Bucky. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are staring at each other, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, and you can swear at this moment you sense something more. It surprises you that he doesn’t say anything in return. You are not used to seeing Bucky like that—without the attitude, without the facade. He tries to conceal his reaction from you, but his face grows cloudy at your reply, his heart grows pale with pure annoyance: a feeling that reaches its climax when you silently rise and leave the room as Bucky ponderes your reply painfully. He would not have wanted to hear of staying a second longer anyways. ============================== It is a continual nightmare. He needs several days off from all training sessions to meditate on his thoughts in solitude. He persuades his conscience that in a way it is not his fault as possessiveness is a problem, rooted in his ill-bred past―he suffers greatly, because of the brainwashing, torture, his mind struggles between disorder and order, trying to find a balance between the two extremes.

But he can't keep on running, he needs to face one of his biggest problems―for all his time that he has spent with you, he couldn't avert that excess of emotion: mingled possessiveness and jealousy has overcome him completely lately. The nearer he gets to the facility the more agitated he becomes and on catching sight of it he trembles in every limb. You are young, beautiful and there is something contagious when you act like a brat, it takes root in him and his desire grows along with him―your presence is a moral poison that contaminates his whole mind. —There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. You are forbidden. Young. His best trainee.

============================== You are already sitting on the bench and turn around when the door opens. Eye contact. How can he mitigate his adoration for you when he can't concentrate half the time he is around you?

“Good morning, Bucky”

You say with feigned playfulness and he notices a mischievous smile on your lips. As if you are on hostile terms with him, but still somehow friendly. And what amuses you is painful to him beyond expression―he doesn’t say anything in return, but sits next to you, and looks thoroughly indifferent as he takes the water bottle out of his backpack. It is normal thought, you are alarmed at his recent indiscretion, and the disclosure he had made of his behavior in a transient fit of anger. Bucky is sick with conflict, possessive emotions fester in him while this sludge, guilt, eats away at his insides and he is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time. ―He needs to say something. Finish the session and go home. It is that simple.

And he stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink from your bottle. Then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. What the actual fuck. Was that on purpose―he has come here to train you and once again, he is left speechless. Then. You lean in, your scent filling his nostrils. He is shocked to feel his throat tighten with a primal hunger, just to hear: “Don’t you like me?”

You laugh softly, utterly feminine sound that galvanizes all of his senses. You lean closer, allowing Bucky to savor the sweet, sinful energy which shimmers from you―some primitive male instinct warns him of your innocence―like a bloom on a vine, fragrant and dainty. He scowles―don’t pinch it off. His heart knows no peace, because everything is wrong with having feelings for you. *What is she playing at? Is she trying to provoke me? It's working*

“It's not that I don’t like you, it's only that in your presence I don’t like myself” he speaks without any anger in his voice, but with much sorrowful despondency.

Now, you are the one left speechless, but manage to preserve your external composure, in spite of his ghastly countenance and strange confession. You find childish diversion in the idea of pulling his mental strings―you struggle desperately to not smile as your mind obsessively plays and replays his words, your eyes narrow into thin slits as your gaze doesn’t leave his, because your suspicions are confirmed, he likes you. That describes his change of habitual conduct. A hideous notion strikes you, how wonderful it would be to use the satisfying exhibitions of power and control to deliberately create more desire in him―only to capriciously deny it. It is clear that he doesn’t know that you are a virgin if he accuses you of sleeping with other men. The question is―what exactly provoked him? But your abstraction is evidently so deep, and your whole aspect so misanthropical that Bucky thinks how uncomfortable you might be feeling. He reflects that all those words will be branded in his memory, and they eat him deeply, eternally, because he should have not said them. All because of his greedy jealousy. He looks astonished at the expression on your face, only assuming what you might be thinking of him―he gazes at you with mournful and questioning eagerness, clearly on the verge of madness. He endeavors to say something, but can’t manage it which makes him compress his mouth as he holds a silent combat with his inward shame, meanwhile, your mind offers a perfect plan.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

You whisper, anxiously, yet boldly―mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he is. You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as his eyes stare at your lips for a few moments.

“Watch that mouth”

A wicked curve appears on his lips, because your pure innocence is a kind of insanity to his mind that sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Kiss you? He wants to fuck you. You are so impetuous and bold―addictive. “Or what? You will kiss it?”

You say which makes you glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need. Innocent and virtuous, you represent the exact type of female he needs to avoid…“Or I will fuck it”―ugh, he can’t say that, but he wants to. God, he feels so naked knowing you have clearly identified his desire for you. He can’t go any further down. Rock bottom. His mind is a mess, but he has no intention of cleaning today. You lean, but before he can say anything you lean back and smile, leaving him to grapple with an absurd sense of disappointment. Teasing Bucky is part of the fun that comes before kissing—oh, you will for sure ruin him long before you touch him. It will be more satisfying to exhibit power and control than deliberately creating desire—only to capriciously deny it. His smile is faint and lopsided, his answer takes a long time, which is uncharacteristic: “Don’t do that again” Bucky’s voice is measured, his longing raw. Self control is all he has left. His face feels scattered in pieces and he can’t not keep it straight. The feeling is a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it is like that. All he can think about―is you. “Why? What will you do?” Your laughter sounds like music, you just can’t miss a chance to remind him what a brat you are and that's when a sense of his folly compels him to mutter: “Why don’t you really keep your mouth shut?” You guess he utters those words, at least, though his voice is hardly intelligible. You know his voice well, bright and brittle, but now it has the thinnest layer of ice over―you know that he feels guilty about liking you. His question is an attempt to repress the intensity of your delight. He looks at you with a droll expression―half angry, half laughing at your boldness. “Why don’t you-” your exhalation carries a rasping tremor as if holding back a giggle “-give my mouth something else to do?” His mouth gaps, but no sound comes out. He stares at you, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes:

“I have no words” he articulates softly. “Bucky…” you tease him “You always have something to say” And yet, he freezes stiff, as if he has been pushed onstage in a play where he doesn't know the lines―God, you’ve broken him. You’ve managed to render him speechless―Dominance. Control. These things are the roots of Bucky’s character. And you are the first person to defy his dominance and to challenge his self control. What a languid woman, a force of gravity by which you irresistibly make him speechless—and at the same time, fuel a new side to him. Eye contact. There is more in the eyes. Longing. The naughtiness emanates from your eyes—you look at him like you own him, openly teasing him as if it’s normal. And now you know that he needs you. This scarred, broken man needs you...and you want to be there for him. There is a silent promise not to let his secret out, but there is no promise for not teasing him purposely from now on—you jolt at the knowledge that you are instilling his inner peace to such an extent.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #female reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier

357 notes · View notes

suukee · 2 days

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other half 彡 levi ackerman

» summary ⋆ levi doesn’t exactly notice it, but one of his love languages is physical touch. (how he acts when he’s in love)

» content ⋆ levi ackerman x reader. fluff, hurt/comfort. mentions character deaths. written with season four, special two in mind.

» word count ⋆ 1070

Levi doesn’t exactly notice it, but one of his love languages is physical touch.

That’s because, growing up, he lost everyone he treasured.

His mother passed away when he was nothing more than a living skeleton, too young to live on his own. The last memory he recalls is laying his head down on her lap and her feather-like touch. Her fingers were gentle as they ran through his hair. Sometimes it had grown so long to the point where she’d braid them.

The man who found Levi, rotting beside the corpse of his mother, raised him as though he was a caretaker, but not like a father. It’s vague in Levi’s older years, but he remembers the head pats and the hair ruffling. The man was overall careless and strong, but he had soft moments where he’d praise Levi. And just out of the blue, the mystery man abandoned him. Years later, when it was revealed that this man was his uncle all along, he had died in the next moment.

Then there was Furlan and Isabel, the only two people he had considered his family in his adult years Underground. Isabel was a girl with no personal space for the people she cared for. For as long as she could remember, she loved hugs. And while Levi was stiff and complaint about it, she’d do it again and again. Pats on the shoulder from Furlan were enough of a relief to know he was there. Yet, they soon left, devoured on their first expedition outside the walls.

Levi’s very first squad respected his space, unlike Isabel. Even so, they meant something to him. He’d only seen the aftermath of their lives. He doesn’t have much of a physical memory from them. He carries the weight of being unable to protect them as they always would for him.

Then came the commander—both of them. The people he grew to appreciate. He wouldn’t dare to admit out loud they had become his friends. The two strong leaders made a great sacrifice for the sake of humanity. It was heavy. Like the death of his squad, he added that weight to the list. He could feel the hands of Erwin and Hange on his shoulders urging him on.

They’re all gone. Bittersweet memories. Repeating nightmares taunt him just when he thinks he’s got it wrapped around his head.

Through such hardships, he’s gifted with you. The war hasn’t come to an end, not yet, but you’re the only person he knows who survived countless battles from the very beginning.

You have become the only person in the entire world to whom he will cry, vent, and lean toward when he needs to. Whenever he wants to.

His comfort is his best friend. His lover. His partner in crime. That’s always going to be you.

Anyone who catches him holding your hand or kissing your cheek may find it strange. He doesn’t want to be touched by anyone, let alone touch someone himself. He’s a damn intimidating man. One look is all he needs to drive people away. And while it took some time to get to the point where he could freely be himself, the thought that he doesn’t deserve you still gnaws at him.

You treat him like a living person, not as Humanities Strongest. You went through hell and back just to get to know him, to understand him—why he acts and feels the way he does. You’ve changed him into a better man, and you’ve accepted his flaws. Your devotion and love are so innocent and pure, he knows you’d do it all over again. Just for him.

He didn’t make it easy to break down his walls. His guard was exhaustingly high. He tried to push you away in case of the day he loses you, then it wouldn’t hurt so much. But as his calloused hands find their place on the soft skin of your cheeks, eyes shining of love, giggles echoing in his ears, he doesn’t look back. You’re the one he wants to protect. Lay his life down for. A reason to look ahead.

Sometimes, you’re too busy laughing to notice he smiles when you’re this close. But you know he’s content despite how rarely he smiles.

At meetings or meals, he’ll sit across from you. There are times when he rests the tip of his boot atop yours lightly. It’s just his way of keeping in contact with you. If he decides to sit next to you, he’ll be close enough that your knees press against his gently. It did take him some time to kiss you, but he was uneasy about public displays of affection. On his own, and with your patience, he comes to terms with holding your finger or keeping a grip around your waist whenever you’re out together.

He’s a different man in private. He holds you so close, hugging you tightly like you’ll disappear if he lets go. He loves it when you come to the office late at night, settling yourself on his lap as he completes his work—writing with one hand and holding you against him with the other (he complains someone will see and that you should be getting rest, but makes no effort to get you off). When exhaustion kicks in, Levi loves to rest his head on your shoulder, keeping a hand on your thigh and gently caressing the fabric of your pants or, even better, your skin. His body weight is all on you when he’s knocked out cuddling, not that you’ve ever complained about it. Not that you ever will.

Who would’ve guessed the stoic captain had such a soft side?

Nighttime is the worst. A swarm of nightmares disturb his rest. That’s when he becomes desperate for your touch. Your chest and your lap, that’s his new favorite pillow. Your fingers playing with his hair, his undercut, or rubbing his upper back boosts his melatonin. Your arms are the safest place in such an unforgiving world. You’re a calming piece of his life he doesn’t dare to lose.

He can’t.

Even though the war isn’t over, and there’s no time to spend together, it’s your presence that aids him for a while. Even if he can’t see with his eye properly, he relies on touch. Just your hand, and he’s good.

Who would he be without you? He doesn’t want to know.

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cinnamon-girl-writes · 1 day

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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman . . .

gentlemanly things the jjk men do ! feat. gojo, nanami, geto, choso, higuruma, yuuji, megumi

fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

gojo

Im’ma be real, it was hard af to come up with something serious for this man

but I’m gonna go with: he always opens doors for you and never lets you open them yourself

whether it be your car door or a restaurant, he’s always there just a step ahead of you to make sure his princes doesn’t have to do any work <3

*coughs* he also does it to stare at your ass from behind *coughs*

nanami

opposite of gojo, i couldn’t stop thinking of gentlemanly things this man *wouldn’t* do— anyways

nanami is the man who compliments you on more than just your appearance <3

of course, he tells you how beautiful you are all the time

but the best thing about this man is when he tells you how smart you are, or how he loves that your jokes always make him laugh

he’ll compliment your dtermined attitude or your loving nature

if you’ve been working really hard lately, he takes notice and tells you that you’re doing great

overall just. 10/10

geto

soooo geto has a history (in canon) of feeling unneeded/underappreciated

SO wwhat i think he’d always do for his partner is make a deliberate effort to tell them that

every day he finds a way to tell you: you matter to me and i need you in my life <3

sometimes it’s random, like when you’re laying and the couch and he tells you

or sometimes it’s more of a show, like him taking you out to dinner just to show you he appreciates you

choso

while romantic relationships are a little new to him, he treats his relationship with you very seriously

that being said, he notices whenever you’re stressed out about something

so to help you with this, he takes on whatever tasks are burdening you: your kids are driving you crazy? he’s great with kids. the dishes on your counter have been sitting there for two weeks? don’t worry, he’s got it

overall probably one of the best on this list

higuruma

this man- *ovulates*

anyways . . . like nanami he’s another epitome of gentlemanliness, however higuruma doesn’t have that much free time to spend with you because of his job as a lawyer

so when he is with you, he deliberatly asks you about how your day was. he’ll listen to every word you say and ask questions, wanting to get every detail out of you (and also, maybe he just likes the sound of your voice :))

but regardless, hearing about your day is very important to him

oh, you’ve got gossip about people he doesn’t even know?? he’s SAT

he listens to every detail, stopping you to ask questions and make sure he’s following the story

the KING of giving advice

yuuji

yuuji doesn’t necessasrily stick to formalities, but one thing he always pays attention to is the SIDEWALK RULE <3

like you swear this guy has a sixth sense or something because you literally never find yourself walking on the outside of the sidewalk

if you ever ask him about it, he just says he doesn’t do it on purpose but just always puts your safety first

megumi

poor megs didn’t really have a great example of being a gentleman growing up :( so this stuff is kind of hard for him

i would say in general he just has a pretty hard time with giving/recieving affection

but that being said, megumi puts a lot of thought into everything in your relationship

dates that he plans out are always extremely well thought out according to your interests and likes

his gifts are usually hand made, but if he does pick something out it’s very personal, usually something that you’ve been mentioning a lot lately

a/n: no i did not inclde toji because as much as i love his broke ass, for the life of me i could not think of one single gentlemanly thing about him

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nicksbestie · 1 day

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Kittens - M. Sturniolo

Summary : One specific person becomes a regular at the animal shelter you work at, always visiting the cats <3

Warnings : mentions of anxiety but nothing graphic!

Word Count : 1614

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader

A/N : i'm a sucker for baby animals and matt <3 maybe there will be a part two for this?

You have always been an animal lover.

You’d grown up in a house full of pets, so really, it was no surprise that you had ended up working in an animal shelter, taking care of all of the pets there until they found a loving home. You worked at a no-kill shelter, and you were grateful for that, because there was no way you could get attached and then have to watch them die simply because nobody had chosen them yet. You worked there because you couldn’t take them all home with you, so you would spend a ton of time with them at the shelter to show them all of the love you wished you could give them forever. You couldn’t lie, sometimes your job broke your heart, for a multitude of reasons.

Sometimes it was because you got attached to the animals, and then they got adopted. You were of course so happy that they got a loving family, but you did wish that you could be there for them, so it was a bittersweet feeling. Other times, you watched adoption paper after adoption paper fall through, and perfectly loving animals stayed in their kennels or were returned by families who had changed their minds. Even worse was when you saw the strays and abused animals come in, mangled and dirty, sometimes badly injured, and you hated the way they flinched away from you out of fear. You always made sure to show extra love to those ones, to let them know that regardless of what had happened they were in a safe place now, even though it wasn’t a luxurious home.

You loved getting a chance to turn these animals' lives around, to make them feel better and redirect them to a family or person that would love them for the rest of their life, and you loved how many other people showed up for them as well. There were often people who came in to donate food, toys, leashes, or even just money, knowing that they didn’t want to adopt an animal or didn’t have the capacity to take one in, but still wanted to make a difference, regardless of how small. Every donation was always appreciated so much, and really did go to very helpful results. There were also the groups of friends that came in, the occasional birthday party for some younger kids who love puppies, and those often ended in an adoption or two, which warmed your heart.

And then there were the regulars. The people who couldn’t take any animals home, but loved them too much to not come visit them. The people who were there just as often as the workers were, nearly every day, who formed bonds with the younger and older dogs, and brought the shyer ones out of their shell. You were so grateful for the regulars because they really did help in forming trust between the animals and the humans. It helped with their socialization a great deal, and it had positive effects on the animals. The only thing that occasionally wasn’t great about it was that these animals would get attached to them, and be incredibly sad when they left, or when someone else took them home, but they always ended up okay in the long run.

The workers also connected with the regulars, and some of them even joined the volunteer group, which was a great help because there was always something to do there. It was nice to have extra pairs of hands every now and then, especially when they were always willing to do something to better the lives of the animals they loved enough to come visit multiple times a week. You knew all of the current regulars by name, but you had noticed one boy who kept coming often enough that it seemed like he was going to become a regular. And you had yet to learn his name.

He didn’t come every day like most of the regulars did, but he was here a lot. A little too often to just be popping by. He showed up every Wednesday and Friday, normally in the afternoon, and stayed until closing. He spent most of his time with the kittens, and it was heartwarming to see someone bond with all of the new babies. New kittens came into the shelter more often than people thought, as a lot of people abandoned kittens or pregnant cats because they had become too expensive or too much work to take care of. It was just that a lot of the kittens weren’t out to the available adoption areas because they needed medical testing, checkups, vaccines, and a lot of extra care. A lot of immediate human interaction paired with a weak immune system could be a threat to their health.

On the days that there weren’t kittens out, because they did get adopted very quickly, this boy would go see the puppies first. He seemed to be a cat lover, but he also seemed to like the younger animals, like most people. If there weren’t a lot, or they were playing with other people, he would find an older animal, whether that be a cat or dog, and spend the rest of his time with them. One thing you noticed was that it didn’t matter what he was doing with the pet. The pet could be ignoring him, too anxious or shy, (you noticed he always sat with the fearful ones), and he would simply sit with it and wait, offering treats, pets, and if they didn’t want to sit next to him, he would scroll on his phone and let them come to him. He seemed to have a special connection with the vulnerable pets, and you wondered what that said about him.

The biggest thing that you noticed about him was that he never smiled when he was coming in. He would wave, look up, nod, something like that, acknowledge the people at the front desk being there. Sometimes you were the one checking people in, but he never smiled. Not until he was sitting down with an animal in a short vicinity of him, and you noticed that he smiled the biggest when he was sitting on the floor with a pet in his lap. He never smiled when he was walking in, because sometimes you could see him getting out of his car, never as he was checking in, but he did as soon as he was with an animal, and he always left looking a lot lighter than when he came in. He always left the building smiling.

He had come in for three weeks in a row before you ever said a word to him, and the first thing you said to him was a simple “Welcome back.” He snapped his head up at this, looking confused, as if he hadn’t realized that he had been perceived coming in so often. And maybe by most of the employees, he hadn’t been, but you made it a habit to notice people, even the people who looked like they didn’t want to be noticed. He gave you his usual nod, before moving towards the door to the Cat Cottages. Unfortunately, that day, the kittens had been moved to a different room so that the normal room could be deep cleaned, so you let your coworker cover the front desk and followed him, tapping him on the shoulder just as he reached the door to the cat rooms. He spun around, a seemingly shocked look on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted you to know that the cats have been moved today.”

He looked confused, simply staring at you blankly.

“Sorry. I was just telling you because you always go to the cats first, so I figured I would save you having to turn around.”

He was still blankly staring at you but this time he spoke.

“You noticed I always go to the cats first.”

You nodded, listening.

“Yes. I do. You always come here first.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed. I mean, I notice you when I come in, but I always assumed that you saw so many people per day that you didn’t have time to notice anyone else.”

You smiled brightly at him, hoping to help him feel more comfortable.

“I always notice our regulars.”

“Do I qualify as a regular?”

“You show up on the same two days every week, always in the afternoon, for the past month and a half. I think that falls under regular territory. Now, would you like me to show you where the cats are today?”

He broke a smile for the first time, the first time you’d ever seen him smile before getting to visit with the cats.

“Yes, please.”

As you walked down the hallway to the holding room that the cats were in today, you learned that the boy’s name was Matt, and he opened up a little bit to you. He told you that he came to visit with the animals because they help a lot with his anxiety.

“They really seem to bond with you. It seems like they really do love you. You have one of those souls.”

He laughed, sitting down and smiling as a kitten stepped into his lap, pushing its head into his hands.

“You can tell what kind of soul I have?”

“I don’t need to know you well to know that.”

As you motioned to the animals surrounding you both, you smiled at him, and he smiled right back up.

“Their judgment tells me everything I need to know.”

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flowerandblood · 2 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (26)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, incest, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Jace remembered perfectly the day his little sister was born. Laenor had led him into his mother's chamber that day, holding his hand, saying that she was very tired and they couldn't spend much time with her − he had insisted on seeing her because he was delighted to finally have a sibling, a brother to play with and be friends with.

His mother, the future queen, smiled softly at the sight of him, her white hair loose and in disarray, her face red from sweat and exertion.

She held out her hand to him and he hugged her, peering curiously at the infant she held clutched to her chest.

"He's so tiny." He said in disbelief, brushing the baby's finger with his own − he smiled when he saw the baby's hand clench into a small fist with its quiet purr.

"She. You have a little sister." He heard his mother's amused voice; he furrowed his brow at her words and rose, angry and disappointed.

"− wait, comrade −" Laenor called out after him, but he refused to look at her.

She was a disappointment to him.

For the first few months, he had pretended not to hear her cries or squeals from their mother's chamber − even though Rheanyra had spoken to him and encouraged him to meet her, he had refused to do so, recognising that no little girl interested him.

"It was supposed to be a boy." He muttered regretfully while playing with his large, wooden, black dragon, pretending that the stacks of books were the great hills over which he flew on Balerion. His mother smiled at his words and combed her hand through his dark curls.

"That is what the gods have decided. She may be your future wife."

Jace put down his toy, looking at her in surprise, not understanding what she meant.

"Am I going to have to kiss her?" He asked in disgust, recalling the stories Laenor sometimes read to him before bed, in which great knights freed beautiful women from the paws of monsters, only to fall in love with them later and be bestowed a kiss by them.

His mother smiled involuntarily.

"Don't think about such things until you're a grown man. No kissing for now." She giggled, pinching his cheek. He smiled lazily seeing her warm expression, the motherly love that beat from her.

That night he went to the chamber where she slept for the first time; he leaned over the cradle, glancing at her plump little figure wrapped in a white robe and a small headpiece. Her eyes opened suddenly and he was terrified that she would burst into tears − she, however, merely clutched her small feet and began to rock from side to side, looking at him curiously.

He smiled involuntarily at this sight and tickled her belly with his finger. Her squeal and loud giggle answered him, her eyes lit up in joy, her little body all the way up in euphoria. He laughed seeing this, repeating his gesture, thinking she was like a small animal, a puppy or a kitten.

He decided that at the end of the day she wasn't so bad and stopped pretending she didn't exist.

Until Luke was born he had treated her as if she were a boy, driving their mother to despair every time they both returned sodden with mud and sand after another battle with Aegon and Aemond.

He had always felt that his uncles disliked him, and even though they were of a similar age to him, he did not feel comfortable in their company − nor could he hide his jealousy at the sight of their snow-white hair, proof of who they were.

Looking at his father and mother, he could not comprehend why his hair was not that shade.

Rhaenyra explained to him that it was surely because of the Baratheon blood that also flowed through their veins, and although he was disappointed, the sight that he was not the only one, that his sister and Luke looked similar to him, comforted him.

The first time Aegon laughed sincerely at what he said occurred when he called his sister a hamster. The comparison came to his mind when she took air in her mouth and furrowed her brow − he uttered it thoughtlessly, and his uncle burst out laughing and patted him on the back.

"− gods, you're right − and those big eyes of hers −" He sneered, and although he saw that his sister lowered her gaze, embarrassed, he continued, eager to hear more words of praise from his lips.

"− she has just as much sense too −" He added, seeing his uncle throw him an amused, mocking look suggesting that he agreed with him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his sister had turned and walked away, passing through the cloisters towards their quarters without even giving him another glance.

He turned around and noticed to his surprise that he was not the only person to notice her leaving − his other uncle, Aemond, led her away with his eyes and then threw him a look full of despise, from which he felt discomfort.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he was the heir to the throne and, unlike him, had his own dragon.

Who was he to look down on him with such superiority?

He decided to remind him of that and share that thought with his brother.

Aegon's involvement in their little joke surprised even him − his uncle thought it was an excellent idea. He argued that his younger brother was too sullen and serious for his age, that he was sapient and could use a little lesson.

As he listened to Aegon convince him that they had found a dragon for him, as he saw the hint of hope and the shy, embarrassed smile of excitement on his uncle's face, he felt for a moment that perhaps they should not do this.

However, it was too late to retreat − Luke ran deeper into the cave, and came out a moment later, leading by a rope a large pig to which they had attached self-made wooden wings early on.

"Behold! The Pink Dread!"

He saw that his uncle froze and turned pale as they burst out laughing, swallowing this humiliation with difficulty − his eyes glazed over and reddened, his gaze again blank and distant.

He knew they had broken him.

That same day he mentioned it to his sister, and her reaction angered him.

"You are cruel." She said resentfully.

Which side was she on?

"He's forever looking down on us because he has white hair. He's constantly making excuses and bragging about what he's read in those silly dusty books of his." He snorted, playing between his fingers with the gold coin their grandfather had brought him from another of his trips overseas.

He blinked when his sister simply rose from her seat and walked out, leaving him in a state of shock and displeasure − he decided, however, that these were just normal female emotions and would surely pass her until supper.

He loved his father, but he also greatly valued and respected Ser Harwin Strong. He was a stocky, tall, handsome man who could fight very well. He often spoke to him or helped him practice by sharing stories of his duels in tournaments and hunts.

He thought then that he would like to be like him one day.

He knew that he was a close confidant of his mother and often saw them together, however, his father seemed not to mind, so he considered this condition perfectly normal and did not bother.

After a few weeks, the will of their King fell upon them like a bolt from the heavens, and their mother informed them of it during one of their suppers together.

"− your grandfather and our King has decided today that, to strengthen our lineage, we will betroth your sister to your uncle, Prince Aemond − let us raise our cups for this −" She said, glancing towards her daughter, his sister smiling broadly at her words, happy.

What?

"− what do you mean? − why? −" He asked, feeling discomfort in his stomach and a cold sweat on his back.

They wanted to gift him his sister as a consolation because he didn't have a dragon of his own?

"− your grandfather wants peace to reign in the kingdom after his death − such a marriage in his eyes will strengthen our family and our bonds between each other − of course, the marriage will only happen when your sister is of the right age −" She said calmly, looking at her daughter with tenderness, taking an unruly strand of her dark hair from her face.

"− did you agree? −" He asked his little sister in disbelief, and she nodded quickly, as if it was the happiest day of her life.

"− yes − I'm very pleased − I'm fond of our uncle −" She said quickly, putting a piece of roast on her plate, describing how worried she was that she would have to marry someone much older than herself.

He stared blankly ahead, clenching his hands into fists, bitter and disappointed.

Had she really never considered him as her husband?

After all, he was her elder brother; in their lineage such marriages were obvious.

He dared not, however, defy the will of the King himself.

His resentment towards his uncle increased with each passing week seeing that, against his wishes, he was not being harsh and unpleasant to his sister − on the contrary, he seemed to have softened in her company, his face, though still pathetically proud, also expressing curiosity and affection.

He felt rage in his heart at the thought that they could really have wished to bring about this marriage.

However, the cup of bitterness overflowed the moment he saw his sister kiss him.

They were both too certain that no one could see them − he watched them from the corridor through a window overlooking the library.

His sister was standing by the bookcase, saying something to him, and he stood up and walked lazily over to her. He rose on his tiptoes and apparently reached for a book that stood too high for her. She smiled broadly as he handed it to her, her hand traveling to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard as her lips pressed against his, and as soon as she pulled away, her uncle grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again, deeper and longer.

He fled to his chamber and burst into tears with rage, dropping all the objects standing on his table, disappointed and humiliated that although he was to become King in the future, someone else was taking away something that in his mind was his right.

He never wondered what kind of love he had bestowed upon her and whether it was the form of affection that usually bound married couples; he knew that he would care for her and be good to her and that was enough for him.

She was his sister and he would never hurt her.

She, however, looked only to her uncle and it was to him that she gave her heart and mind.

He didn't know what he felt when Luke slashed his face that night when their uncle stole Vhagar − horror, shame, satisfaction and relief all mingled in his mind into one.

On the one hand, he was overjoyed that he had taken back what in his mind should have been his, on the other he was embarrassed and distraught at the confirmation of his fears that had long smouldered in his mind.

It was Harwin Strong who was their father.

To his seed he owed his dark curls.

He was a bastard.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from considering what this meant for them, focusing on the fact that his sister would surely no longer want her uncle for a husband, and their paths would part.

This is exactly what happened.

Still, what he had planned did not happen, and his mother decided to change her plan and marry her off to their cousin, Lord Arryn's son, to strengthen her support in the North of the kingdom. Again, he felt a wave of disappointment, however, this time he was not so jealous − he knew that she had no love for their cousin and that he was certainly no threat to her.

"What's my little sister doing?" He asked with amusement, startling her completely, sitting bent over her desk − she quickly grabbed the parchment she had just been writing something on and tucked it under the table, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you writing a letter to someone?" He sneered, raising an eyebrow, standing over her with a smile. She swallowed hard and looked down, thoughtful.

"I write poetry. But I don't want anyone to read it." She muttered, and he sighed quietly and nodded, acknowledging that he wasn't going to force her to do anything.

"Would you like to go for a walk along the beach? It's beautiful weather." He encouraged her; she, however, shook her head, no longer bestowing a single glance on him.

"No, forgive me. I'm tired."

He pressed his lips together at her rejection, which he had faced again and again since they had moved to Dragonstone.

Even though he tried to get close to her, to understand her and comfort her, she still didn't want him.

He was ashamed to speak of his feelings with his mother or stepfather, much less Luke, however, to his surprise, his closest confidant turned out to be Baela.

"I don't understand her. It seems to me that she still misses him, even though he has certainly forgotten her by now. I have heard that he is a cold, vain, self-obsessed man. He's always been that way, treating her only as an object, a consolation prize. Now that he has a dragon he doesn't need her." He said angrily − his cousin sighed heavily at his words, looking at him with understanding.

"When people part in anger and don't close a chapter, it's hard for them to move on. Perhaps she knew him in a way that is unknown to us. He's always been withdrawn into himself." She muttered disapprovingly, fiddling with the wine cup in her hand, gazing thoughtfully into the blazing fire.

He smiled at the thought that he was certain she recalled the impetuosity with which her uncle had punched her in the face with his fist that night when he lost an eye. Baela looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's that look?" She asked and kicked him under the table with her foot. He giggled at her reaction and shook his head, lowering his gaze to her fingers.

"I would have been better for her. I would have really cared for her. Maybe I wouldn't have given her everything she needed, but at least with me she would have been safe." He said with a tiredness from which his companion sighed heavily. He lifted his gaze to her as her hand grasped his and squeezed it.

"I know." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen as he saw her soft, misty gaze, feeling her warm thumb stroke his palm. He grunted as he felt his manhood pulsate in his breeches at the thought that, indeed, his cousin was a very fine woman.

He had always liked her sharp tongue and confidence.

"Have you ever lain in bed with a woman?" She asked him suddenly, and he drew in the air loudly, shocked, feeling that his cheeks had certainly turned red with shame.

He didn't know what to answer.

He didn't want to humiliate himself with words that he had absolutely no experience in these matters knowing that she had a more liberated approach to these affairs.

Daemon, as her father, had expressed no dissent, so who was he to lecture her?

She sighed quietly, seeing his reaction, or rather lack thereof, and rose from her seat, turning her back to him, gripping the ties of her bodice with her hands.

"I need you to help me."

Baela was a calm and patient teacher − it seemed to him that she took great satisfaction in his lack of understanding of what she was actually doing to him as she sank down on his swollen manhood again and again with a moan of delight − her brown naked skin glistened wonderfully in the light of the blazing fire, her white curls falling over her shoulders in disarray, her full lips parted in obvious desire from which he felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast.

She made sure he didn't fill her with his seed, letting him instead come down on her abdomen with his low moan of pleasure, his length pulsating and twitching in her hand for a while longer. He licked his lower lip dry with emotion, looking at her in disbelief, a soft, shy smile on her face.

"− you're beautiful −" He whispered, and she giggled under her breath and kissed him in a way from which he felt hot in his heart.

She made him forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them, finding in her both friend and lover, the confidante of all his secrets.

She was not jealous of his sister − on the contrary, he had the impression that she understood the source of his anger and disappointment, herself having no intention of explaining to him what she was doing and with whom.

It seemed to him that their relationship and its freedom suited them both.

Of course, they both knew that in the end they would experience a marriage that would inevitably be purely political, and they understood what that entailed.

Then their grandfather was injured on one of his expeditions, and Vaemond Velaryon challenged his younger brother's rights to the throne of Driftmark.

Knowing the truth about his parentage and at the same time refusing to accept it, he became enraged, sad and depressed at the same time − Baela's words of comfort that they would find a solution and not allow themselves to be intimidated did not reassure him.

Once again, his uncle and his family were trying to take their inheritance from them.

His return to King's Landing was a shock to him; to his disappointment, he felt like an intruder there, and it seemed to him that was exactly how he was perceived by everyone.

He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his neck, his stomach twisting with discomfort when he saw his uncle in the distance, wielding his sword as if it weighed nothing, easily defeating Criston Cole, pressing its blade against his neck.

He was tall, muscular, his long white hair, proof that he was in fact a Targaryen partly tied at the back of his head with a black ribbon, his jaw long and sharply defined, his gaze wild and cold, terrifying.

He smiled mockingly at the sight of them, playing with the hilt of his sword between his fingers as if he wanted to devour them.

He felt ashamed at the thought that he was terrified.

And then his uncle spotted their sister in the distance − his heart beat harder at the sight of their expressions.

It seemed to him that this reunion years later had caused them pain, as they both froze, breathing heavily, looking at each other as if there was no one else around.

His uncle hummed under his breath and turned away, nodding at Ser Criston, taking another swing with his sword.

Even though he hadn't cared what happened to her for so many years, even though he had humiliated her at supper by calling her Lady Strong, she had confessed in front of everyone that her place was with him.

He looked at her in disbelief, wondering what she was doing, why she had stooped to courting him when it was obvious that her uncle had neither respect nor affection for her.

After a moment, he heard his uncle's cold, trembling, deep voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

"How could our mother agree to this? How could she let her stay there?" He asked furiously, circling around his chamber in Dragonstone; Baela sighed heavily, turning her head away. She looked at him finally, hesitation in her gaze.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would only enrage you and you wouldn't leave her alone." She said tiredly − he halted in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"You didn't tell me about what?" He asked dryly, frustrated and concerned.

Baela let out a loud breath, shaking her head. They were now betrothed, and although he thought they both seemed to have accepted their families' decisions with relief, he couldn't rejoice.

"My father told me that she had been sending him letters all these years. That the same night we arrived in the Red Keep she spent the night in his chamber."

He stared at her dully, feeling that it made him sick to his stomach, as if he were about to vomit, his face taking on an expression of disgust.

So she didn't write any poetry then, he thought with regret and pain.

"− how could she do this − expose our mother to humiliation and gossip −"

"Jace. She never stopped loving him. I think she's naive too, but you'd have to be blind not to see that she never really accepted it all. I don't know what I think about it myself." She admitted, running her hand over her face.

"You don't know what you think about it? I'll tell you. Our uncle will play with her and take advantage of her, and then he will put her up to ridicule and hand her over to us. He won't marry her." He growled angrily, burying his face in his hands, wondering how she could be so foolish, how she could believe that he had sincere intentions about her.

"The matter of succession is on a knife-edge. Perhaps our grandfather is right? A union between our mother and the Queen could really ease the situation." She muttered, clearly looking for anything comforting in the situation, which he completely failed to understand.

Had everyone around him lost their minds?

"My uncle who thinks we are bastards is supposed to alleviate the situation? He will never agree to let me sit on the throne and I am supposed to give him my sister?" He asked in disbelief; Baela tightened her lips at his words, frustrated.

"You speak of her as if she were an object. It's always been that way."

He felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine at her words, every muscle in his body tensing like a string.

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly.

Baela sighed heavily, clearly trying not to explode and form her thoughts so as to be honest but not cruel.

"You think she was born to fulfil your whims? That the fact that you are her eldest brother gives you precedence to lie in bed with her?"

He felt himself blush with shame at her question, shocked.

Discomfort and arousal surged through his lower abdomen at the thought.

"Do you think that's what I mean? I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, Jace. I've never witnessed you ask her how she feels, what she needs. I am fond of you, but you are a selfish boy, not a man."

He felt ashamed at the thought as tears gathered under his eyelids at her words, a terrible, cold shudder shook his body, his heart began to pound like mad.

You are a selfish boy, not a man.

Her words so offended him that he stopped speaking to her despite her pleas, and then the thing he feared most happened.

The King was dead, Aegon had stolen her mother's throne and his uncle had imprisoned his sister.

They had made a mockery of them.

He had been right all along, but no one listened to him.

"Forgive me, Jace." Baela muttered, placing her hand on his shoulder. She knelt beside him, sighing heavily, laying her head on his thigh, and he involuntarily stroked her hair, feeling superiority, feeling strength.

He was going to fight for his mother's crown and bring his sister home.

In order to do so, at the behest of their mother, he flew to Winterfell to ask Cregan Stark for his support in this cause, reminding him of the oath his father had taken before her.

The North seemed to him a beautiful and wild place, so far from what he knew − the snow-covered hills, the austere fortresses of dark stone, the robes that looked only grey, black or brown around him gave him a sense of modesty and space.

Lord Stark's nature appeared to be similar to his, and the few days he had spent in his company hunting and riding horses had actually made him feel good − he felt like someone worthy with him, a true heir to the throne, not a bastard.

It was this feeling that, seeing the young Lady Snow from afar, he allowed himself to be enchanted by her charms and lay in bed with her.

Like a real man.

When he arrived back in Dragonstone he learned that Luke had just returned from Storm's End and that he had seen their sister.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." Growled Daemon, shocked and horrified by his naivety, burying his face in his hands, unable to look at him.

"Daemon." Their mother rebuked him, all pale, her hand clenched on her womb. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." His brother muttered, and he felt his heart stop, he and Baela looked at each other quickly.

She had tried to take her own life.

Because of this bastard, his sister could be dead.

His hands clenched into fists at that thought.

"And then?" Pressed Daemon in an impatient voice.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." He mumbled and he slammed his fist on the table, feeling fury and rage boiling up inside him.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He growled red with anger − Daemon threw him a single, drawn-out look.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He continued, pretending not to have heard his outburst.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." Luke said. Daemon sighed heavily and leaned over, placing his hands on the top of the stone table, thoughtful.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

Baela followed him into his chamber in an attempt to calm him down.

"How can he want to pact with that fucking traitor? His brother stole my mother and his wife's throne!" He shouted in her face − his betrothed dropped her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Since he let them meet, maybe there is something to it. My father knows what he's doing, I trust him. I believe he will bring her home."

"You're naive. You always have been."

"And you're vain. You always have been."

He pressed his lips together at her words, feeling his heart pounding like mad, feeling like something was about to explode inside him.

"I met a woman in Winterfell who I took to my bed." He muttered finally, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Part of him wanted to hurt her, and part of him wanted to be honest with her.

That was what they had promised each other.

Baela laughed at his words in disbelief and shook her head − he had a feeling he saw a shadow of regret in her gaze, but he wasn't sure if it was because of his confession or because she understood why he said it now.

"If you wish, I'll relate to you how I spent my time in your absence, but I'm not sure you'll be able to look into this guard's face afterwards." She sneered, lifting her chin high, looking at him defiantly. He felt a wave of hot shame and anger surge through his body.

"After we're married…are you going to continue this?" He asked uncertainly and she cocked her head to the side.

"If you are not faithful to me, I will not remain faithful to you. You are dear to me, but don't think I will cry for you. Certainly not like your sister cried for her uncle. Part of me has always envied her that she experienced such a deep feeling in her life even if it burned her from the inside for so many years." She said with a kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his stomach, but he answered nothing to her words.

He knew that they did not love each other.

They were close and felt comfortable together, but they weren't mad about each other.

He believed it just had to be this way.

He waited impatiently along with his mother and the others gathered for Daemon to return from his meeting with their uncle, simultaneously terrified and angry that they were speaking with traitors instead of fighting.

When they heard the squeal of Caraxes in the distance his mother stood up, pale, holding her hand on her womb again, as if remembering the time when she had carried her only daughter under her heart.

His other sister had died before she was even truly born.

When Daemon stepped into the main hall everyone was already waiting for him; he sighed heavily, placing his Dark Sister on the table top, folding his hands in front of him, straightening.

"Your daughter married her uncle of her own free will. My nephew has conveyed to me that his brother-cunt will relinquish the throne he stole from you if it is your daughter's children and his who become heirs to the throne or, in the event they do not conceive a son, ours − Viserys and Aegon. He demands the exclusion of Jace, Luke and Joffrey from the succession." He said dispassionately. He looked at his mother seeing that she had run out of words.

"− mother − this is −"

"− leave us − all of you −" She ordered.

"− mother − this is my inheritance − mine −" He began, but felt Baela's grip on his arm.

"− Jace − that's enough −"

He sat in his chamber thinking only of the fact that his mother was just contemplating whether or not to agree to deprive him of his inheritance, to acknowledge that he was her bastard despite the fact that he was her firstborn son, despite the fact that Laenor Velaryon had acknowledged him as his heir.

"− Jace −" Baela muttered, seeing his condition.

"− leave −" He said. He heard her sigh heavily as she approached him with a rustle of her gown, kneeling at his feet.

"− Jace − I'm on your side − I always have been − don't you see me as your companion? − your friend? − your lover? −" She asked with a pained expression that startled him. He lowered his hands and looked at her − his palm rose to her cheek, which he stroked with a tender, slow gesture.

"− you resent me − you don't see me as a man, but as a child −"

"− that is not true −"

"− I don't want your pity −"

"− Jace −"

"− you were right − I don't want to frustrate you and I understand all the accusations about me that you've made − my whole life I've been trying to be someone I'm not −" He finally replied, his betrothed's fingers grasping his hand and squeezing it.

"− that's what I mean − stop pretending − be honest with yourself −"

"− do you want me to be honest? − very well then − my mother has never asked my opinion on any important matters − Daemon treats me as if I am an imbecile and mocks me − I am both a first-born son and a bastard − my uncle wants to deprive me of everything, he wants me to be a nobody and why? − because when I was a child I gave him a pig? − god, I regret it, it was a cruel joke − I regret that he lost an eye, I regret that a dragon didn't hatch from his egg − but even if I had said that, what good would it have done − he would have laughed at me saying I am a weak cunt −" He muttered and burst out sobbing like a small child, hiding his face in his hands. Baela embraced him and cuddled his face into her oil-scented neck, stroking his hair.

"− I am grateful to you − I am grateful to you that you are honest with me − I am grateful to you that you have never lied to me −" She whispered and he wept softly, tightening his hands on the material of her gown feeling that the closeness of her body brought him solace.

"− I am grateful to you too − forgive me for not being what you deserve −" He mumbled, sniffling loudly, trying to calm the convulsions of his body and his ragged breathing.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for your forgiveness −"

When his mother came to his chamber that evening, he knew what decision she had made even before she opened her mouth.

"− Jace −" She began, and he turned his head away, panting with rage, burning tears of humiliation under his eyelids.

"− after all this − after all you've sacrificed − are you going to let them win? −"

"− how would I be a just Queen if I thought only of myself instead of the good of the kingdom? − any other solution will mean war with our own kin − is there anything else more displeasing to the gods? −" She muttered in a breaking voice in which he could clearly hear that she herself was suffering immensely.

"− you let them dictate their terms −" He said in disbelief, looking at her at last. His mother pressed her lips together at his question.

"− no − I intend to impose my own demands on them – none of them will be allowed to sit on the throne − none of them will wear the crown − they will be rulers-regents until their son, the rightful heir, is born −" She replied, forcing herself to be calm.

"− and if no son is born to them? − will you exclude me from the succession then? − your first-born son? −" He mumbled in pain, hitting his chest with his palm. Rhaenyra drew in air loudly, her eyes red from tears of pain and grief.

"− it's my fault − not yours − me and Laenor really tried, but −"

"− I don't want to hear it − I won't listen to it − why did you let me come into the world? −"

"− Jace −" She mumbled − he heard the rustling of her gown as she took a step towards him, but he held up his hand showing that he didn't want her to come near him.

"− I will leave Dragonstone to you − it belongs to me and I can give it to whomever I wish − no one will challenge your rights in this case, you will finally be able to live the life you deserve −"

"− I was meant to be King −" He hissed, and she swallowed hard.

"− as was I − but perhaps we are not meant to be − pride steps before a fall −" She said drily, her chin lifted high.

"− what does Daemon have to say in the matter? −" He asked lowly.

"− he is furious, but he will do as I command − just as you −"

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desire-mona · 23 hours

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siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

#desire mona #YAYYYYYYYY TODD AUTISM POST #do yall want a seperate autistic anderperry hc post cuz i can do that #genderqueer todd i love you so much #dead poets society #todd anderson #anderperry #the todd spectrum #actually autistic #banger

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sagethegaywitch · 2 days

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Yandere Diasomnia Headcanons

GN reader

TW: yandere behavior, stalking, killing mentioned, threatening mentioned

Genre: yandere

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Malleus Draconia:

He’s a mysterious fellow, but he’s been watching you for a while now. He’s seen you take midnight strolls around the school, wandering aimlessly and pausing every so often to look at the stars. He’d probably appear out of nowhere and make a comment about the specific constellation you’re looking out. After you react to the unwelcomed presence, you two would strike up a conversation.

He would invite himself to the rest of your evening stroll and continue to point out star constellations and give you a brief history lesson about their shape and who named them.

Eventually, this first midnight walk sparked a nightly ritual between you two. He never told you his name, so you’ve given him the nickname Horton/Tsunotarou until he’s comfortable to tell you.

When night turns to day, you always have trouble finding your midnight buddy during the school day. After the first week you stopped looking for him and just asked him during one of your strolls. He brushed it off saying that he has an unfortunate reputation and would prefer you to know the real him.

Even though you may not see him during the day, he’s always watching you. He’ll peek around the corners of the hallway to peek at you walking to your class with your friends, but it’s kind of odd for the fifth most powerful mage to be sneaking around like that.

Because of his stalking habits, Lilia catches on very quickly that something is up and will stalk Malleus while he’s stalking you to find out. Eventually Lilia will put all the puzzle pieces together and come to the conclusion that Malleus has a crush on you, which starts his unrelenting teasing. Malleus will usually just smile at Lilia’s words without ever speaking if it's the truth or not.

Sebek and Silver only catch on after Lilia figures it out. They’ve noticed Malleus’ late night strolls and they’ve seen the light blush that decorates his faces sometimes, but they thought their Master was just being a bit weird. Sebek will be outraged that a human could cause such a great fae to act this way while Silver will just shrug and congratulate Malleus.

Loves to give you fae gifts and will always teach you the meaning behind each gift. He understands that there is a common misconception that faes trick humans without telling them the difference in customs, so he wants you to feel comfortable when receiving gifts from him.

In return he wants you to explain the meaning of human traditions to him as well, like birthday parties and gift giving customs. He enjoys learning the difference between cultures and even tries to give you some more human gifts as well.

One of his first human gifts to you was actually a tamagotchi that he saw at Sam’s shop that reminded him of you. Now you two match and he helps you raise your virtual pet, thinking of it almost like your virtual child.

Gets very pouty and distant when jealous, and will sulk around for the rest of the day. If you miss one of your nightly walks or you’re hanging out with others too much, he gets very jealous but he can’t lash out. He can’t intervene because he doesn’t want to scare his classmates more than they already are of him.

If someone started to touch you inappropriately or try to make you their partner, only then would he appear. He doesn’t care if he’s blowing his cover, he refuses to let anyone take you away from him. His presence will quickly scare off the competition, but now you will know who he is.

When he reveals that he is actually the Malleus Draconia, he’ll act all bashful and will await rejection. Luckily for him, you don’t have much knowledge of Twisted Wonderland so you will continue to accept him as your friend, the only difference now is that you know his real name.

He loves it when you call him by his real name, although he does miss the endearment of his nickname. He’s so happy that you’re not afraid of him and his magic, and this only shows that you must truly love him to listen to him rather than the rumors.

If his rivals are not threatened off by his mere presence, he’d quickly smite them. He is the fifth most powerful mage in the world for a reason. It’ll be a quick death, something like instant evaporation because he doesn’t want to waste time killing someone instead of watching after you.

Overall, Malleus may act all elegant and regal, but deep inside he’s just a reserved man who’s very afraid that he’d lose the only friend who isn’t scared of him. He has a Danger Level of 7/10 only because of the power he holds. It takes a lot to really piss him off, but he’s quick to react when a line has been crossed. In the end, he just really wants to be loved and understood, and he thinks you’re the cure to the loneliness that has been plaguing him for years.

Lilia Vanrouge:

This man has seen many things in the many centuries he has been alive, but he’s never seen someone as interesting as you. You definitely caught his interest during the fiery incident at the beginning of the year, and he’s always been following you since.

He thinks that the fact you’re magicless is very interesting because he’s seen the great potential that humans have to learn complicated magic. He hopes to see you flourish at Night Raven College and learn how to command the magical world around you.

He’s not a very good stalker, but that’s because he does it on purpose. You always see him ducking behind a corner too slowly, barely making an effort to really hide that he was watching you. It might make you uncomfortable at first, but after he introduces himself to you, a beautiful friendship begins.

You can sense that he has a really old soul with all the wise words he has to offer and how he treats his close Diasomnia friends. He will always lie about his age when you ask, but now you can see the way his smile becomes more genuine when you try to guess how old he is and the way he directs his gaze a bit when you guess a little too close for comfort. You never push the topic past a comfortable teasing, but you know when to stop when he gets uncomfortable.

Unlike Malleus who takes the time to teach you fae traditions and customs, Lilia will leave you little fae gifts and let you try and guess what they mean. He playfully rests his head on your shoulder as you open it and question the seemingly bizarre gift. Eventually after a few guesses, he’ll tell you what it means and will get lost in his memories as he recounts an old tale that reminds him of the gift.

He will also give you his cooking as a gift, which comes with its fair share of warnings from Silver that it's actually deadly, but you accept the gift either way. Just to be nice, you’ll always take a small bite of the treat and offer a strained smile which always brightens Lilia’s mood. When he’s gone, you have to secretly dispose of the bad cooking.

Will be ecstatic if you teach him how to cook properly, and will take all of your cooking lessons to heart. If his cooking improves even just a bit, you will have a lot of Diasomnia members offer you thank you gifts for sparing them from Master Lilia’s terrible cooking.

He loves to spend time with you, either taking you for a quick fly around the campus or you helping him dye his hair, and enjoys every second of it. He likes it even more when you stay over at his dorm and he gets the chance to sing you a lullaby, easing you into a gentle and peaceful sleep.

Is not really jealous because he knows that he’s your only best friend. He’s always hovering around your shoulder and hanging upside down to make you laugh. How could he not be your best friend?

If someone were to get in the way of your relationship, like trying to ask you out, he’s quick to be at their shoulder, whispering in their ear with a smile about all the ways he could hurt them.

Lilia was a general for a fair majority of his life, so he’s no stranger to methods of torture or murder. He’s fully equipped to end someone’s life, but he likes toying with his rivals and giving them many chances so he feels justified when he kills them later. If he finally does resort to killing someone, it would be drawn out but not messy, he just hates cleaning up bloody messes.

Overall, he’s an older fae who misses the naivety and innocence of his younger days, but luckily he has you to help him feel more youthful. He has a Danger Level of 7/10 because he has a high tolerance for annoying rivals, but he’s very menacing when he feels threatened. While you may enjoy spending time laughing with him, he’ll be busy laughing at those who dare try to take you away from his safe embrace.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Although he openly discusses how he does not like humans, he finds you tolerable when he learns that Malleus enjoys frequent nightly strolls with you. He first started to stalk you to see if you were a suitable and appropriate companion for his Young Master.

During the first few weeks of this stalking, he noticed that you were just a normal human with nothing really special about them. He deemed you a good friend and didn’t interfere with these late night walks because he knew you were not a threat.

Since watching you became a kind of habit, he had a hard time returning to his normal schedule. The more he watched you, the more he observed how clumsy of a human you were, always making mistakes and getting in trouble. He soon brought it upon himself to protect you from yourself and any other dangers that you seemed to draw to yourself like a magnet.

He’s not the best at sneaking around because of his loud voice and large stature. You’ll often see him hiding behind trees with his broad shoulders sticking out, and you just brush it off as a weird fae thing.

When he eventually musters up the courage to befriend you, he’s blushing and tripping over his words. He still projects his voice so that half of the school can hear it, but you laugh off his formal request and accept him into your group of friends.

He doesn’t mind the other members of your friend group because he’s mostly focused on you, but he does keep a close eye on them to ensure they don’t suddenly become a threat.

He doesn’t really understand friendship because he has been in a master-servant relationship for so long. In his mind, he has appointed you as his Master (but he still puts Malleus over you) and always stands protectively at your shoulder. You often have to remind him to let loose and just enjoy the moment.

Because he’s always watching you from a distance or by your side, he’s quick to pick out any dangers towards your safely. He’ll often be yelling at Ace, Deuce, and Grim for trying to drag you into another perilous adventure, and he’ll lead you away from the troublemakers, maybe even going as far as reporting them.

He’s not the jealous type because he only views himself as your humble servant. Even when he does get that feeling in his chest, he doesn’t quite know what it means.

He goes to Lilia for help, and Lilia will be ultimately unhelpful because Sebek will just decide to use violence against those that make him jealous.

After a while of tolerating those that like to take your attention away from him, Sebek will start to corner them in the dark hallways and will, probably for the first time in his life, quietly threaten them, his blank stare and soft voice probably scaring them the most.

If threatening does not work, he is not afraid to strike them down with either his hand or a sword. He won’t realize the mess he’s made until after the deed, but he will take extra care to clean the area and dispose of all evidence. After the murder, he will often approach you and tell you that he’s kept you safe again and would like a reward in return, much to your confusion.

For a much larger man, he surprisingly loves it when you gift him small human trinkets. He has a fondness for the small size of the objects and has a special case for them in his room, right under his large portrait of Malleus. In return, he will give you fae baubles, mostly jewelry, that he loves to get on one knee, as a formal gesture, to put on your fingers, wrists, neck, and so on.

Overall, his innocent background checking soon became his obsession as he frequently wondered what you were up to and if you were being safe. He has a Danger Level of 8/10 because of his delusional nature and urge to protect you from everything and people who might not even be a threat. While he may be Malleus’ servant, the more time he spends with you, the more he values your safety over his Young Master's. You’ve got a protector for life, and while some of your friends may mysteriously disappear, Sebek will always remain by your side.

Silver:

Just because he’s plagued by sleepiness doesn’t mean that he can’t care for you. He first probably met you when he fell asleep during class and you were the only person to stay behind to wake him up. Because he still looked so sleepy, you offered to walk him back to his dorm so he could lay down and rest for a bit. Although Sebek took Silver away from you before you could ensure he got to his bed safely, Silver still remembers your act of kindness.

From then on, he would often take the seat next to you in all of your shared classes. He always tries to actually take notes and stay awake, but he always succumbed to the sweet grasp of sleep. But it was worth it to awaken to your gentle voice and kind face every time.

Because of this frequent exchange, you became best friends with him to make sure he wouldn’t fall asleep in any dangerous spots.

Loves to take naps with you, often laying on your lap if it’s in class or sharing a bench on one of the gardens during lunch for a quick afternoon snooze together. You indulge his behavior because you know he can’t help it, plus you always feel refreshed after your daily afternoon naps.

On days when you help him back to his dorm, he will often grab your hand and force you into bed with him. He drags you by your wrist and pulls you under the covers where he’ll say that you're warm or that he wants to hug something while sleeping. While he may be unconscious, he’s still very strong and you don’t have much luck getting out of his hold.

As an “apology” for forcing you to sleep with him, he will give you plush pillows with the best pillow cases and really soft blankets to help ease you to sleep and make you more comfortable beside him. In return, you will give him nicely scented candles to help him relax and some self-care items like face masks to cleanse the face and eye masks to block light. You two often have sleepovers where you perform self-care on each other before enjoying a deep sleep.

He isn’t really interested in stalking you, but he might ask Sebek to keep an eye out for you without really giving him a good reason. He knows he won’t be able to stay awake long enough to follow you around constantly, but knows he can trust Sebek to ensure your safety.

He’s a bit too sleepy to be jealous of others, but he will suddenly be alert if you take a nap with someone else. If Leona dragged you into the greenhouse to use you as a pillow or if Deuce and/or Ace got kicked out of their dorm and now have to sleep in your bed, Silver is wide awake and offended.

He views the time you share in dreamland as a sacred ritual only between you two. He will not tolerate any others getting too comfortable with you.

When he does get jealous, the worst he’d probably do is call upon his animal friends to cause some minor inconveniences. From birds shitting on a rival's head to them getting chased by an angry raccoon, Silver isn’t really out to physically harm anyone too bad.

If he is pushed to violence, he’d probably ask Sebek to help him get rid of enemies by claiming he caught them trying to harm Malleus. While he does have training similar to Sebek’s and he would be able to kill those he views as lowly, he finds it much more enjoyable to watch the murder than actually commit it. Plus, Sebek is just so easy to convince to do the deed, especially when he’s told it's Malleus’ safety that is involved.

Overall, he may be a sleepy boy, but he is not to be underestimated. While he uses his sleepiness as a way to get closer to you, he can be awake when he needs to deal with any competition. He has a Danger Level of 7/10 because while the odds of someone invading your naps together are low, when it does happen, he does not hesitate to react with brutality. As long as you let him cuddle with you when he sleeps, you’ve got a sleepover buddy for life. But when will you notice his possessive grasp on you each time you drift off in his hold?

#male reader #female reader #gn reader #yandere #twisted wonderland #xreader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #silver #diasomnia

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drivestraight · 13 hours

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good morning val drivestraight I have a question for you... can you sell me on lestappen. I follow you for general attitude swag and don't really follow many max blogs (I actually found your blog after that omega George fic lol) but I feel like you of all people could make the greatest ship primer. mostly I'm not very into it bc I feel like the shared history part of it gets overblown by fandom compared to other ships, and they're friendly enough these days that I can't get hatesex vibes form it + Max comes across as really well adjusted and kind of an homeboy. so I'm like what's the hook? what do you like? what's YOUR platonic perfect idea of lestappen? I want to follow u down this road

omg what an honor...

this isn't much of a ship primer but mostly about me talking about why i like them if that's okay <3

i agree that we overplay their shared history, but it also provides a really nice backdrop for everything they are now. they've always been in each other's lives but in a peripheral sense. and it's that sort of distanced familiarity that is compelling to me. also the potential for intense physicality despite their inability to communicate like normal people. that's the hook to me: they are in each other's orbit but they never have been close. but then you get to the racing: and when it comes to the racing, they've really given some great battles. and that alone isn't enough. it's like - combined with who they are off the track: childhood rivals turned awkward work friends, the fact that they can race that hard and that they respect one another so much is just. so good. sometimes it feels like they can predict each other's moves. like silverstone/austria 19 (yes, mentioned to hell) and bahrain/saudi 22, the w2w there went crazy. and once again, this with everything else: that they have this one place and this one medium for them to communicate at such a high level, and are just so awkward everything else is very good. lewis and seb who have said in the past that max goes over the limit too much, while charles has always said with max, it's always on the limit and never above. obviously things might change if they ever get into a real title fight against one another, but i think they have such great foundations that it will be compelling no matter what. also they've lowkey like stood the test of time: look at how people characterized them in 2019 and how they characterize them today. they've changed so much and their relationship has changed so much but still, both of them are at two top teams, they have found each other again in f1.

also aesthetically, the red/blue of it all is really nice. and just like. They look good together. yknow

they also like. say crazy things about each other sometimes. "i will remember it all my life" / "i know max very very well" / etc. etc.

my perfect platonic idea of lestappen Is Not one where they're best friends and where max is his number 1 defender - because he is not, as many people would have you believe (everyone clipping moments from cooldown rooms and quotes from interviews are putting it out of context and putting words in max's mouth and twisting things weirdly), and because that's frankly so uncompelling and kind of pathetic to think that charles needs max to praise him/defend him for him to have any worth as a racer etc. etc. i could go on about this for ages but i won't. tldr max doesn't care enough to do that.

IN FIC my favorite lestappen is basically: an awkward lestappen who like each other so much and can't actually communicate it properly in any way that isn't physical. but maybe the physicality and the shared history and the racing can be enough.

#asks #lestapen asks #lestappen

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frozenjokes · 1 day

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Idly, from the crack of his ajar bedroom door, Cub watched Scar through gentle eyes, the other sitting at the couch, ever so slightly slumped as he watched the news, or maybe watch was a strong word, because it looked a bit more like he was sleeping. An awake Scar was never so still, so relaxed, the rise and fall of his shoulders never so slow. An awake Scar typically knew when he was being watched, a strong internal sense, and he would turn around, arm draped over the back of the sofa with a lazy smile, and Cub might greet him, or he might just shut the door, the observation not nearly as fun when the other knew he was there. Cub smiled, basking in the opportunity to simply look without being known. Scar’s hair was a certified mess, more than it usually was, the funny little cowlick at the back of his head completely out of control. Not that Scar ever tried very hard to tame it anyway. But today he didn’t have to try at all, because today he was here, and there were no cameras, no scrutiny. Well, maybe there was a little scrutiny, but Grian wasn’t home right now. Just Cub. Just Cub.

Scar’s legs were in the shop today, routine maintenance and things, but instead of spending the day in town as he typically did on these types of off days, he asked to spend it here, to just hang out, relax. Take off the mask and not think at all. And who would Cub be to deny him?

There was something so deeply satisfying seeing him here, out of uniform. He had arrived in it out of necessity; very few people had no legs and wheelchairs decked out in HotGuy merchandise, but Scar had changed once inside, visibly reveling in the luxury of being Here. In a place with people he trusted. No mask. No legs. No uniform. Being.. Scar. Given the nuclear identity crises Scar had been experiencing lately, this was nothing short of the ultimate freedom. And what an honor to be able to provide that, to be trusted enough that even a man so deeply insecure of his place in the world could find it in himself to just relax around you. To be himself. To fall asleep on the sofa without the fear of sharp edges.

Cub ducked out of his room, tip-toeing over to shut off the news. He didn’t care to hear it, and didn’t think it was too good for Scar either, not today. The scene reimagined to his liking, Cub slunk back to his room then walked from it again, normally, and draped his arms around Scar’s neck, humming. Scar roused, and Cub got the pleasure of seeing him blink away sleep.

“Ello,” Scar mumbled, leaning back to hit Cub’s chest with his head, and Cub closed his eyes, a small smile forming across his lips (maybe. Sometimes when he thought he was smiling, he didn’t look any different at all, his mind’s eye only playing tricks on his physical sense of self).

“Hi. You tired?”

Scar gave the question a moment of thought, endearingly, trying to push back further into the couch, like the barrier between them was a great frustration. Cub didn’t make any move to be closer, internally amused. Scar sighed, “Not really. Just got a bit bored, closed my eyes. Was still listening.”

Cub very much doubted that. He didn’t think Scar was lying or anything, just that he simply didn’t know how asleep he really was. No point addressing it though. “That’s good. I was thinking about you, y’know.” Cub snaked around the side of the couch, settling himself half on top of Scar, probably with far less grace than he was imagining. Whatever the case, Scar didn’t seem to care, looking more delighted than anything to have Cub so close.

“Were you now,” Scar returned the gently flirtatious tone, always one for a little bit of a game. It was intense sometimes, looking Scar in the eyes, but there was such a deep contentment there today, and Cub found himself unable to tear his eyes away. “Well, you know I can’t help myself. I have to ask.”

Cub chuckled, burrowing a bit closer to rest his head in the crook of Scar’s neck. “Was thinking about the night we were together, just walking around on the streets. Talking. That kiss, it was a nice thing. It was a good night, just what I needed, really.”

Scar glowed, the little words having more of an affect on him than they ought to have on anyone, but then again, that was just Scar. So easy to please, his joy written for all to see in the bright lines of his face. He’d probably ride the high of those words for the rest of the evening, and Cub would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little warm. How incredible it was to have that effect on a person. Though Scar, ever greedy a man, could never help but push, “Anything else?”

“Well..” Cub trailed, knowing Scar would hang off every word, “I was thinking about what we talked about. How you wanted someone to take care of you.” Cub let a hand wander to Scar’s thigh, hoping to get the message across, but not entirely confident this would be enough.

The reaction was adorably delayed, the gears behind Scar’s eyes visibly turning before his cheeks flushed, a nervous hand brushing through his hair, “Did I say that?”

Cub shrugged, “No idea. But I remember thinking it.” Cub grinned when Scar startled in his arms, making an attempt to backpedal, but no actual words left Scar’s mouth, and Cub snickered against his shoulder. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“You’re the one trying to kill me!”

“Oh come now, I haven’t said anything at all. I just have a lot to give tonight, if you want it. All you have to do is ask.” Cub tried to smile, but at this point looking Scar in the eye was really getting overwhelming, so he stopped, letting the silence linger. “And I think it’s funny. That you like my teeth. I think it’s cute. Wanna know how much truth there really was to that little snippet you gave me before,” Cub opened his mouth, just a little, just enough to let the blunt edges graze the base of Scar’s neck, but he failed to anticipate the jolt of Scar’s shoulders at the touch, knocking him square in the face.

“Cuuuub!” Scar wailed, missing the soft grunt of surprise as Cub reeled backwards, as well as the slight movement to adjust his glasses.

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”

“No!” The word dropped just like the jolt of Scar’s shoulders, perfectly involuntary, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Scar looked sheepish for a moment, and he was the one who broke eye contact this time, beautiful in his quiet, “Just.. don’t bite?”

Cub smiled, and he was sure he did this time. “I can do that.” But he didn’t get to move before Scar swallowed him in a kiss, full and happy and too excited to hold it in, so perfectly Scar. Something like love warped Cub’s heart, not quite, that would come later, a latent realization sitting alone in bed, eyes wide, heart beating faster, unequivocally, irreconcilably in love. For now though, the warmth in his chest was well enough, the joy and hope that Scar had gifted him with open arms for all these weeks.. months now, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter, really. Cub wanted to give back. To show a kind of appreciation that was a little more explicit, to let Scar know just how much he cared, since Cub knew well enough it wasn’t always easy to tell. (Cub knew that Scar knew already, he knew Cub cared, but as far as romance goes, this was his own fantasy.)

there is more of this like. A lot more. But things ramp up be much less sfw and then not at all even a little sfw and it is like. It is not about the sex really story wise the focus is very romance and silly goofy but that doesn’t go here so if you want to read 7k words of absolute Nonsense you can find that on my ao3

#suggestive #hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #cubfan #hermitfic #cubscar #hermitshipping

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sugar-omi · 1 day

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Ohhh the newest dad cove post the pregnant mc is so so good,,,,, rip though imagine just how clingy this makes him oh my god. (late riser mc) he’s constantly falling asleep on the couch next to you when it gets later, hand on your back or around your middle whether you’re showing yet or not because he can’t stand the idea of you needing something but not waking him up ‘cause he’s in bed(especially when you have bad “morning” sickness).

or something that absolutely makes my blood pressure absolutely skyrocket is strangers being touchy, (he’d obviously not be like? weird about it like if you want to let family or friends feel the baby kick; he’s honestly just nodding along with the biggest goofy-proud smile like “it’s the coolest thing ever right???”) but if random strangers are getting touchy or pushy because they seem to think pregnant people are free real estate? just this big ass man getting physically between the two of you and completely shutting them down without a word? 1000/10.

also rip mc but I myself am a Cove suprise twins truther and not gonna lie to anyone but unless you are well above average size? rip mc. late second trimester and on is just a mess because like the other post said? all fun and games having a giant husband until giant baby time. man is so conflicted(for a multitude of reasons tbh because if one baby almost being here wasn’t overwhelming enough? two?) because on the one hand there’s almost a twinge of guilt because you’re so sore and tired and sick of having to pee every five seconds, but also, not even a sexual(or maybe just a little) thing but some part of his brain is like you said just? that’s his baby- his babies, like it hits him so much that you are literally carrying his kids that you two made together and you trust him enough to be by your side and be your kids’ dad?? and sometimes he’s looking at you with big wet eyes and wobbly lips while you’re trying to hunt down the current craving and you panic that he’s crying, and when he explains… oh now you’re crying because of hormones being out of wack and he’s too sweet for this.

I LOVE YOU ANON. WE ARE THE SAME. literally sharing all my thoughts rn pls... i love the thought of my mc n cove having 1 kid (thru adoption) and their first pregnancy/baby being twins. just instantly throws them into the boiling pot of parenthood

n omg he's so fucking clingy after you get pregnant. if you're not a hugger, you are now. because he needs to be around you n touching you, he fucking loves you so much and just needs to touch n kiss n hold you

omfg, tries to feel the baby kick or anything like that before it's even possible. instantly starts talking to your baby before they're even supposed to be able to hear

if you're still sleeping, or napping, he'll cuddle up near your stomach and strokes the area, tracing hearts and stars and such, talking about how much he loves you. how great you are. tells funny stories from your shared childhood, tells your baby/babies about their future aunts n uncles n grandparents.

they're gonna be so loved.

n if you wake up in the middle of him doing this, try to stay still and listen because then he goes on about how much he loves the babe/s and how he's gonna take care of them, and you, and he'll protect n love them n he daydreams out loud about all the milestones, all the way up to their weddings which just makes him cry

you might even catch him rambling about how he'll make sure they never feel insecure, or like a burden, or anything like that, especially any feelings or thoughts he had from his childhood.

and yeahh, he'd be so overwhelmed and freaked out if your first pregnancy is TWINS!! he gets anxious. because now there's a double chance of failure. he's just so afraid for your future, and even if you're anxious and afraid too now with the news, he does calm down even if you don't comfort him.

bouncing your anxieties off each other, makes him realize you're both going towards a good path. if you're already worried about X, Y, and Z, then you know you're on the same page, and while parenthood is unpredictable.. your beliefs and wishes for your family are certain

takes a deep breath n just promises you it'll be okay. you'll figure it out. you can worry through parenthood together. and you'll figure it out together.

does call his dad and he talks to cove, helps him with his anxieties, etc.. it helps him relax when cliff says that, while cove was a very happy accident, at least he's prepared unlike he and kyra were. this was something you wanted, prepared for. that all the mental preparation, is the best it'll get and now you have to figure it out together, and that he, kyra, and your moms are here to help you figure it out.

n omg cove feeling bad about you being sore, tired, exhausted from the baby totally rearranging your guts and pressing against your bladder like a meat press.

always offers you massages, foot rubs. and helps you do any maintenance, like helping you shave or doing your names, put on lotion, etc. since your stomach is getting too big to work around

helps you put on your shoes if you need, too. he brings you all the snacks (ends up trying your cravings too. in fact, HE has cravings n now both of you are scrambling for the car and end up sitting in the parking lot eating whatever weird combo one of you thought of)

and you're so right about him finding you attractive when you're pregnant, not necessarily sexual like you said although it has undertones. in fact, since we're talking about it. it's kinda like they're satisfied they made their mark on you LOL

which in that case... cove probably doesn't even realize how.. happy. he is. that whenever you leave the house, people can easily see you have someone at home waiting for you. that you're taken.

literally read an article about men's thoughts on their pregnant wives, and they're so interesting (can't get over the guy saying ["my wife still doesn't believe i found her sexy during her pregnancy. i saw what a baby did to her and it just made me want to fill her with more."])

n their increased attraction all seems to come back to their wife carrying their baby, and their body getting bigger. not even just her boobs and butt, loves how her tummy gets bigger during the pregnancy, loves the stretches marks because it's a sign of the hard work she did carrying their baby

he just loves everything about you. loves your glow, your scent, your whole look.

also like i said before, pregnancy just kinda flipped a primal switch in cove's brain. happens to pretty much every man on the planet. loves when you ask him for help because you're too pregnant to do it. or if you call him "daddy", "papa" or something along those lines, just messing with him (same way guys will call you "mama"), he has to grip the counter n take a minute because omfg... he's a dad. he's your babies dad. even if you don't call him that, has to take a breather if you bring him up like that.

is so fucking ecstatic about you calling him your babies father that he will probably fall on the floor crying n throwing up like. he's insane.

ohhh and he'd just be at your beck and call the further along you get. imagine him with his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder, just keeping you secure in his grip as you cross the road.

just becomes so much more protective. subtly of course, not overboard like growling n hissing but yknow he keeps you close, keeps an eye out.. etc.

oh and you're so right about him putting himself between you n touchy stranger number 8123901. even if you tell him it's okay, he still checks you out to see if you're uncomfortable.

but lets be real, i can't see many daring to get handsy and pushy with your over 6 foot, somewhere 'round 200lbs, husband next to you. that'd just be stupid.

so don't be afraid to just drag him to the store to be your shield LOL

still, even though he relaxes a bit as your pregnancy progresses and to strangers, he seems pretty relaxed and cool n all that. does go home with you and can't help but cry because you look so cute, and your family is increasing, n it's just all so much. he's a big baby still

#olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader

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