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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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Stars all aligned - Chapter 12

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

"You need to tell Rhys," Cassian told them seriously.

It was the last thing Zahra wanted to do. Only closely followed by talking to her sisters.

"You do it," she said, more of a jest than an actual request. But gods knew, her guts were actually twisting themselves in knots at the thought.

Cassian just shrugged. "I'll do it," he said drily.

"No, I'll do it," Azriel disagreed. "You are my mate and Azalea is our daughter."

Zahra swallowed at that claim in his voice.

Our daughter. It sounded as natural on his lips as breathing, sending a bolt of something through her that she didn't know how to define.

"I hate you," she said half-heartily and Azriel chuckled quietly, pulling her against his side.

"No, you don't," Azriel said and the cheeky note in his voice and the smirk on his lips had her heart flutter all over again.

The shadows seemed almost restless, twisting around his shoulders and fingers, curling around her hair…Their baby girl stirred a little, from napping in her arms, and Azriel's arm around her waist tightened almost...almost instinctively.

"We can't keep hiding you two away at Rosehall forever," Azriel said softly as he pressed a kiss against her hair. Zahra swallowed.

"Not that I'll protest," Esmeray said brightly. "You'll always be welcome here."

And Zahra loved Rosehall. She loved Esmeray. She loved it here...but there was a part of her that stupidly ached for her little cottage, for bringing Azalea there and making it a home for the three of them. It wasn't a grand house but it would be theirs and somehow that would be worth more to Zahra than anything else.

Home. The word send a pang through her.

Gods, she wanted nothing more than to make the cottage a home for their family. She wanted to move there and to forget about everything else.

Except…There was no forgetting the rest of her life or her family.

Azriel's arm tightened around her waist when she sagged against him, almost as if he knew what she was thinking, as if he was anticipating her thoughts and reactions.

She swallowed. No. There was no way around it. And she knew it.

Her gaze shifted to the baby in her arms. Azalea. Their baby girl.

She tried to shake off the sense of protectiveness that was taking hold, a feeling so...so foreign to her and...powerful and frightening all at the same time.

She...she wasn't a mother, she didn't know how to do this...

Azriel's free hand came up to her chin, tilting her face until she was looking at him.

He didn't say a word, just looked at her like he could see the panic and uncertainty that was clawing at her, wrapping itself around her insides until she was gasping for breath.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, firmly, his hand still cradling her chin, his eyes never leaving hers as if he was making her focus on him and his words. "We'll do this together."

"Rhys is going to kill us both," she told Azriel weakly. Cassian just snorted.

"He's not," Cassian disagreed. "Why are you always so pessimistic?"

Zahra just stared at him. Why indeed. "Because experience has taught me to expect the worst of things," she snapped back.

Cassian had the grace to wince.

Azriel's hand left her chin to twirl a piece of her hair around his fingers, almost...almost absentmindedly, as if he wasn't even aware of doing so. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, his fingers lazily tracing circles into her hip.

"You have a secret weapon though," Cassian said brightly.

"And what is my secret weapon?" she drawled back in disbelief.

Cassian pointed at Azalea. "That," he said like it was a perfectly logical and obvious explanation.

Zahra just stared at him.

Cassian gave her a look. "She will make him go all soft and emotional," he said, clearly finding the idea somewhat amusing.

"He's going to turn to mush," Cassian promised her. "Ever since Feyre and him had Nyx, Babies make him go all soft and gooey," Cassian added. "And sappy," he said after a moment and she couldn't hold back a snort. "First rule of war, use every weapon in your arsenal," Cassian said seriously. "And who could possible resist you," he cooed at Azalea, who was blinking at him sleepily, waking up and cuddling into Zahra. “Not the big bad High Lord of the Night Court, not him.”

Azalea's eyes were wide as she stared at Cassian, like she couldn't quite believe there was another person fawning over her.

Zahra rolled her eyes at Cassian. "You are ridiculous," she said unimpressed by his antics.

"He's right," Azriel agreed though, much to her surprise.

"Of course I'm right," Cassian said in a cocky voice, too distracted by Azalea to truly notice who had agreed with him.

Zahra just huffed in annoyance, as she watched Azalea grab a hold of one of Cassian's fingers, pulling it close. It was...cute, she had to admit that much.

Cassian...he was a big strong warrior. He could be gruff and rude and grumpy and a downright ass most of the time. And now...now a tiny baby maybe half the size of his biceps had him wrapped around her little tiny fingers.

Azalea giggled when she tugged at another one of his fingers, her tiny fist clenching around it, and Cassian's expression softened.

"Besides, I am there too," Cassian cooed at her. "Yes, I will be. Rhysie can't possible find fault with you, can he? No, he can't."

Azalea didn't seem to mind the baby voice Cassian was using. If anything, she seemed to be delighted by it, almost trying to pull the finger into her mouth to gnaw on it.

Zahra almost, almost snorted in amusement.

"I would be careful, " Azriel warned, "She has a tendency to bite." Cassian actually drew hand back in horror.

"Don't be a coward," Zahra said dryly and now she did chuckle quietly as Cassian sent her a glare, a look of...almost betrayal in his eyes.

"Are you telling me I should let her take a chunk out of me?" he asked, offended.

"If you want her to love you, you should," Azriel said drily, and Zahra snorted.

That just earned Azriel another glare. "That...I...she..." Cassian spluttered, then looked at Azalea, who was still looking up at him wide-eyed, as if almost waiting for him to offer his finger back.

Zahra bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Your parents have a horrible sense of humour," he told Azalea drily.

Azalea just reached out a tiny hand for him again, her fingers opening and closing in a grabbing motion...and of course Cassian caved instantly, giving her his finger to hold again.

He was whipped. Completely and utterly whipped.

Zahra just pressed a kiss against her daughter's hair.

"How do you want to do it?" She asked Azriel softly. How did he want to deal with Rhys?

Azriel was quiet for a moment, the shadows curling tightly around his shoulders as he thought. Then he let out a sigh, his grip around her waist tightening a fraction. "The sooner we do it, the better," he said grimly. "We'll do it tonight."

"We'll do it now," Cassian corrected. "I'll ask him to come here and he will. We'll have a talk with him outside. And only if he manages to keep his temper...we'll let him anywhere near you," Cassian promised her.

"You don't need to do this," Azriel said, his voice tight.

"Yes, I do," Cassian disagreed. "Besides, if there are sides, I am picking the one with the cute baby!”

That did little to calm Zahra, even as she pressed another kiss to Azalea’s curls.

“I am still there too,” Esmeray said drily from the kitchen. “I can be pretty fierce!”

***

To say that Amren had her own opinions about everything that had gone down while she hadn’t been there...well, that was an understatement.

Rhysand had heard about her opinion in great and graphic detail as she had stalked through his house towards his office.

Now Amren stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows, her arms crossed over her chest as she glowered at him, looking very much ready to punch him in the face.

And he didn't doubt she probably would.

Rhys just leaned back in his chair and waited as she kept up the silent treatment. He knew she would explode eventually.

"You're angry," he said flatly. It was a statement, not a question.

"You are leaving the Night Court vulnerable," Amren spat.

He almost winced at the venom in her voice. "How so?" he asked, trying not to sound defensive, trying to keep his own annoyance in check.

Amren sent him a look. She knew he knew what she was talking about. "Your spymaster is gone," she pointed out, her voice sharp and angry as she finally whirled on him. "Your General and his mate aren't even on talking terms at the moment. Your wife and her sisters are having a fight that has the potential to result in a civil war."

"It's not a fight," Rhys said with a sigh. It wasn't. Not truly.

And it wasn’t going to end in civil war…probably.

"It's close enough to one," Amren snapped and there was no denying that. "So how are you going to fix this?" she demanded.

There wasn't anything he could fix. How was he supposed to fix this? How was he supposed to...

He could never take away what happened to Zahra. He could never fix the scars that she would carry from it for the rest of her days...scars that maybe weren't visible to the naked eye but there non the less.

"I don't know," Rhys admitted, the words almost getting stuck in his throat.

The most powerful High Lord in the History of Prythian…and yet when it came right down to it...absolutely powerless for this.

He didn't know.

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he swallowed, trying to get a hold on himself. On his thoughts. On his emotions.

It had brought up memories that Rhys himself would rather forgot. Things that he never wanted to happen even to his worst enemy, that had happened to him…

Amren had left in a snit after that, and quite frankly he didn't fault her.

Right now it felt like their family was fracturing down to the center in multiple different directions.

And Rhys himself hadn’t been helping things either. Azriel’s harsh words had made that very clear to him.

Had made it painstakingly clear what they had done to Zahra, how they had treated her…and while Azriel hadn’t put it into so many words…his dark eyes had been accusing and harsh and…and the guilt had been gnawing at Rhys ever since then.

Zahra hadn’t been the only one who had been treated horribly by their family.

Azriel had been treated no better.

Absolutlely no fucking better and it wasn’t…

Rhys couldn’t fault Azriel one bit for taking his mate and getting them both away from surroundings that had grown the worst sort of toxic for them.

They could be lucky that that was all Azriel had done. That Azriel had only told them all off for their behaviour towards Zahra…that he hadn’t just grasped his mate and took her somewhere else entirely.

He could. Rhys didn’t doubt for one moment that if Azriel wanted to disappear and take Zahra with him…he could. And they would never see them again.

It was a fucking miracle that Azriel hadn’t let the mating instincts get the best of him and went out for retribution…hadn’t slaughtered his way to the Human Lands.

At this point Rhys could hardly have blamed Azriel if he had.

His hands clenched on the armrest.

Hell, Rhys himself wanted retribution. Wanted justice for a 15 year old girl that had only tried to keep her little sister safe.

He wanted to slaughter the man that had dared to put his hands on Zahra.

He knew he wasn't the only one. He knew that once Feyre got over herself enough...once she understood and accepted that right now, Zahra didn't want to see her... that would be next on her list as well.

It was strange almost, the anger, the frustration that coursed through him. He was so unused to feeling it towards Feyre that there was almost a part of him that wondered how he should handle it. What could he even do?

The sharp mental tug that told him that one of his brothers wanted to talk to him broke him out of his thoughts.

Cassian? Where are you? he demanded immediately.

Rosehall, Cassian's response came. There was a slight edge to it, something sharp and almost...defiant. Come to me. We need to have a chat.

Rosehall? Cassian was in fucking Rosehall?!

I thought we agreed to give Azriel some time to cool off, Rhys snapped right back. It was the least he owed his brother.

There are some...extenuating circumstances, Cassian said softly.

Extenuating circumstances. The words had Rhys straightening, his whole body going tense.

What kind of extenuating circumstances? he demanded.

The kind you need to see for yourself.

Rhys growled, the sound low and deep. You had better have a damn good reason for this, brother.

A very good reason to go against Rhysand’s order.

I do, came the terse answer. Just get over here. Now.

It was the sound of absolute certainty in his brother's voice that had him doing as he demanded.

He was going to Rosehall and he was going to figure out what was the hell was going on.

It took him only a few seconds to winnow there.

He almost stumbled when he landed on the gravel path, his wings flaring out behind him. Rhys took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, tried to get himself under control again.

Then he turned and...froze.

He had expected Cassian waiting for him. He had not expected Azriel being there too.

There was something about Azriel’s body language that screamed tension. It was in the set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, in the way he carried himself.

But he was there.

He was willing to see him.

And he wasn’t wearing his fighting leathers, even when two siphons were sparking dully on his hands.

It was more than what Rhys deserved.

His gaze slid over to Cassian, who was casually leaning against the house, almost as if he didn't have a care in the world.

That was a stark difference from Azriel.

But Rhys didn't take that obvious casualty for meaning that everything was well, for one moment. Cassian was good at diffusing tension.

"Azriel," he said, his voice weaker than he wanted.

"Rhysand."

Azriel didn't seem to be in a forgiving sort of mood. Not that Rhys could fault him for that. The use of his name, the way it sounded almost cold from Azriel’s lips, was like a slap in the face.

Rhys flinched back, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he forced himself to hold Azriel’s gaze.

He wouldn't look away.

Even in the dim light of the evening, Rhys could make out the shadows curling tightly around Azriel. They were agitated, restless, snapping at empty space as they twisted around Azriel's limbs, as if preparing to strike.

"I..." The word felt lodged in Rhys’ throat, like he was trying to cough up something that had got stuck there. Azriel just raised an eyebrow at him.

Cassian pushed himself of the wall, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers as he sauntered forward.

"How...how is Zahra?" Rhys asked finally, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

"She's doing well," Azriel answered, his voice cool.

It was something. It was more than he deserved. "I am sorry," Rhys blurted out.

The apology made the shadows around Azriel flicker, something almost akin to surprise flickering across his brothers face.

It was the first sign of something other than anger he had seen so far and he took it as a good sign.

"You should be," was all Azriel said.

"I know," Rhys said quietly. "I..." He paused again, drawing in a shuddering breath. "I am sorry," he repeated. "Not just for Zahra. We fucked up. I know that," he told Azriel seriously. "But I am sorry for how I behaved with you, too."

He had expected that Azriel would say something at that. He expected a cold reply, some snarky comment, or a scathing dismissal.

What he did not expect was a small nod. It was a small gesture, almost too small to be seen, but it was there. And it was progress.

Rhys let out a breath that he hadn't even realised he had been holding, his body relaxing.

It...it was a start.

His eyes darted over to Cassian, who was watching them with a carefully neutral expression on his face. A sharp contrast to his usual demeanour.

"It's a start," Cassian said after a moment, almost as if he had read Rhys' mind. Then he jerked his chin as if to say keep going.

Rhys turned back to Azriel and raised his chin almost like he was offering himself up, forcing himself to meet his brothers eyes again. And there was still so much anger in them, a sort of cold fury that was different than the hot anger Rhys was used to. It was the anger of someone who knew that they were right.

"But please," he said, a pleading note to his voice now that he hadn't even tried to hide. "Please, let me at least...let me try and make it up to her, to both of you."

There was a tense pause, Azriel just staring at him, still looking rather cold and distant. Rhys almost held his breath, waiting for his brothers response.

"There is something you need to know," Azriel said.

Rhys let out a breath of relief when his brother finally spoke, his shoulders loosing some of the tension.

“Alright,” he said, bracing himself for whatever it was that Azriel was about to say.

"The shadows kidnapped a baby."

Those words didn't seem to sink in at first. Rhys just stared at his brother in disbelief.

"...I'm sorry, say that again?" he asked, his voice sounding almost strangled.

"The shadows abducted a baby," Azriel said again, slower, enunciating each word slowly.

The words sounded just as strange the second time. Rhys just stared a Azriel, trying to process...to figure out what the hell his brother was trying to say.

"A baby. A Baby?" Rhys asked. "Where did they find it?"

Azriel's body seemed to grow even more tense, if that was even possible.

He glanced at Cassian, some unidentifiable communication passing between them. Rhys' eyes flicker between them, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"She, not it." Azriel finally snapped. "She's Illyrian. And the shadows found her in my father's dungeon."

Rhys' brain stalled on the word dungeon. It took several seconds to process it, to understand what Azriel just said.

Then his whole body went cold, a horrified look on his face.

"You don't mean..." he said, his voice a mere whisper. "She's Ruben's daughter," he realised.

Azriel's half brother. The one behind the scars that covered his brother's hands.

Azriel just gave a terse nod, his lips thinning into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw were clenching again, his hands curled into fists at his side.

It wasn't hard to figure out where the anger was coming from. A child. A baby, who had been locked up in a dungeon.It was the type of knowledge that made his stomach curdle, that made the rage start to build. But he forced it down, forced himself to keep it in check.

"How did the shadows find her?" he asked finally when he was sure he could trust his voice.

"Zahra asked them to keep an eye on Ruben," Azriel answered evenly. "Then they found out that he kept his bastard daughter locked away in the dungeon. The wards were corrupted. So they just…took her and brought her here."

"And...the...the mother?" Rhys asked, almost afraid to hear the answer to that question.

"Dead in childbirth."

Rhys winced a the words, his stomach clenching. An orphan then, her mother having died in childbirth. That poor little girl...

"Do we know her name?" he asked quietly, almost dreading the answer.

Azriel's face went blank, his voice utterly lacking in any sort of emotion. "She didn't have one."

The thought made something in Rhys' chest tighten, a cold fury starting to run through his veins.

He was fairly certain that if Ruben was standing in front of him right now, he would have tried to rip out his throat out without a second thought.

"How long had she been down there?" he asked, knowing the answer would make things even worse.

"According to the shadows? All her life," Azriel said bitterly. His eyes were cold, his lips pressed tightly together.

"All her life," Rhys repeated, the words echoing in his head.

All her life.

Ruben had...Rhys had known a lot of horrific people in his life, had met a lot of monsters. But...that. He let out a breath, his hand coming up to scrub at his face.

"How old...how old is she..?" he said quietly.

"Six months," Azriel said, his voice flat. There was no inflection to it. No expression in his eyes.

Six months... A six-month-old baby. Locked up in a dungeon all her life...

It was a horrifying picture in his mind, one he was unable to get rid of.

He couldn’t help but see Nyx. Nyx. Nyx down in a dungeon. All on his own.

He didn't want to think about what that must have been like for her... The sound she must have made in that isolated silence that had surrounded her.

"I am not taking her back there," Azriel said, his voice diamond hard and fierce. "She'll stay with me and Zahra."

Rhys didn't even think to protest at his brothers words.

How could he? How could anyone look at this situation and expect the poor girl to go back to the man who had locked her up for her whole life?

"Is that what Zahra wants?" Rhys asked finally.

Azriel's eyes darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"It's what we want," he spat out, his words almost a growl. "Azalea is our daughter."

The fierce protectiveness bled from every single word. Rhys didn’t think for one moment that Azriel didn’t love her like she was his own flesh and blood.

There was no doubting Azriel's conviction.

Azriel was deadly serious, and he would protect the girl he had claimed as his daughter with his dying breath.

Like a mother bear defended her cub.

Rhys’ expression softened slightly, his shoulders releasing a bit of the tension. "I wouldn't expect anything else," Rhys said quietly."Azalea, you said?" He asked carefully.

"Yes," Azriel said, his eyes still glaring coldly. There was a hint of defensiveness in that word, a hint of caution, as if he was just waiting for Rhys to object against the name.

"It's a beautiful name," Rhys said finally, his voice softening even more. He could see the hint of surprise in Azriel's eyes at his words.

"You can see her," Azriel said suddenly, "If you want," he added, the words seeming almost reluctant.

Rhys blinked a bit, a flicker of surprise running through him. He wasn't sure if he had heard his brother correctly.

"You...you're letting me see her?" he asked slowly.

Azriel just gave a brisk nod, his body still tense. Cassian's eyes shot up in surprise, a look of absolute astonishment on his face. Then he turned to Rhys, his eyebrows raised, Don't you dare mess this up, Cassian warned him mentally.

"I would like that," Rhys finally said finally, his voice slightly shaky.

Azriel studied him for a few moments, scrutinising him like a hawk. Then he gave a slow nod, his eyes not leaving Rhys for a second. "But if you do anything, and I mean anything to upset them,” Azriel said, taking a menacing step forward.

Rhys could feel the threat hanging in the air, the promise of violence if he messed this up. His blood ran cold, his instincts telling him to step away from his brother.But he didn’t.

He met Azriel's glare head on, his chin raised in a silent challenge.

"I won’t," he said quietly. "I swear I won’t."

For a moment, Rhys thought that his brother wasn't going to believe him, was going to send him away again. Then Azriel nodded, the tension in his shoulders loosing a bit.

"Then come," Azriel said, jerking his chin towards the house.

Rosehall was warm and welcoming, and he could hear Esmeray's voice chattering softly as he stepped into the living room. Azriel’s mother was sitting in an armchair knitting. And then he saw Zarah.

Looking healthier than Rhys had seen her in months, her face having filled out some, dark brown hair in a messy braid over her shoulder...and curled around that braid were the tiny fist of the baby on her lap that she was currently offering porridge too.

The sight of her made his breath catch in his throat. She looked so...so unbelievably healthy. Happy even. Motherhood was agreeing with her.

His eyes lingered on the baby girl for a moment.

She was tiny. So tiny. A far cry from Nyx at that age…Pale with fluttering wings… Azalea looked almost fragile in her mother's arms, her small face scrunching up excitedly as she chomped down on the spoon. Rhys didn't think he had ever seen anything so sweet.

And then Zarah looked up and her expression shuttered.

Rhys could see the expression shifting on her face, the look of joy and contentment disappearing, replaced by something more guarded.

Rhys felt something sharp twisting in his stomach. THis was his fault.

Her eyes moved away from him, her body shifting to shield the baby somewhat from view. Rhys felt a pang at the action, the movement clearly protective and defensive. She was shielding the baby...from him.

Rhys’ heart ached with the thought, the feeling of guilt welling up in his chest. He deserved that. He knew he did. And yet...it still stung.

He forced a smile on his face, trying to make it seem as sincere as possible. “I’m happy for you,” he said, his voice soft. “You look well.”

The words seemed to have no effect on her, her expression remaining closed off and guarded. There was a hint of anger in the look she gave him before she turned her attention back to Azalea

The child squirmed in her arms, her little hands reaching out towards the spoon. Zarah just shifted her, rearranging the baby's position and offering her another spoonful that was hungrily eaten.

Rhys couldn't take his eyes away from the sight. From the way Zarah carefully wiped a splotch of porridge off the baby’s cheek, how her expression had softened again while looking at Azalea..

And the baby...she was staring at him. Wide green hazel eyes...She could have passed as Azriel's twin. She was...so tiny. So fragile...yet she was looking at him with far more trust than he deserved.

He took a step forward before he could stop himself.

A sudden golden shield snapped up, surrounding Zarah and Azalea.

The warning was perfectly clear: Stay away. He swallowed.

Rhys could nearly taste the magic, as Zahra fixed him with green eyes.

"If you ever treat him Azriel like that again, you'll have me to contend with. Is that clear?" Zahra asked him, her voice cuttingly sharp. "They are mine."

There was no fucking question what exactly she meant and he only inclined his head, staring at the golden shield that currently protected them.

He could see the magic pulsating faintly, the energy it exuded. She was...serious. That shield was strong.

He had never seen anything like that in his life. It seemed like the 3rd Archeron Sister that had been thrown into the Cauldron had come out of it with some kind of gift after all.

He swallowed again, his gaze flickering from the shield to the baby.

"I understand," Rhys said quietly, his eyes not leaving hers.

Azalea was still looking at him, her little hands gripping at her mothers shirt.

Those bright hazel eyes were fixed on him, seemingly studying him, examining him curiously. There was no fear in her gaze, no uncertainty. Just simple curiosity.

She made a small noise as she looked at him, her tiny hand grasping at the shield, Zahra had wrapped around both of them.

"She's beautiful," Rhys said softly. "She is lucky to have you."

"No," Zahra disagreed fiercely. "We are lucky to have her."

Rhys' breath caught for a moment at the words. There was so much conviction in them. So much certainty. And...he didn't doubt her words for a second.

That baby girl...the look in Zahra's eyes, the protectiveness and the fierce love in her voice.

"I am sorry," he apologise softly.

Zahra's body didn't relax, her face still closed off and her eyes still wary. But she gave a slow nod, the corners of her mouth flickering into a slight frown for a moment.

The tension in the room was thick. So thick you could cut it with a knife.

Rhys found his eyes drifting back to the baby… And this time, Zahra loosened the shield so he could look at the girl more closely.

It went down with a shimmer of magic.

Just enough that Azriel moved to sit beside them on the couch...to take the bowl of porridge from Zahra and continue feeding his daughter who looked at him adoringly, gurgling happily.

Rhys could feel his heart clench at the sight. His brother was cooing at the small girl, a small smile on his face as he lifted the spoon to the baby's mouth.

She accepted it eagerly, chomping and giggling happily.

Azriel's face...he was utterly enthralled, a look of wonder on his face as he watched the small girl. There was something...soft in his expression. Genuine joy at getting to feed the baby.

Rhys couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Azriel look so at ease.

His brother was happy. There was no question about it.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

474 notes · View notes

tobysbliss · 6 months ago

Text

like old times

lee!blitzø, ler!fizzarolli :)

i love them so much i am so glad theyre friends again actually. theyre besties and i love them. this was not proof read so if theres mistakes then OOPS !! (haha u get the reference ? get it ?? cause. cause oops is a helluva boss episode. and its the one where fizz and blitzø made up. haha. yeah)

this fic is intended to be viewed as platonic.

N$FW BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST OR MY BLOG!

Blitzø would never admit it aloud, but he couldn’t be happier that him and Fizzarolli are friends again. It felt like a piece of him had gone missing, then found it’s way back to him.

Blitzø decided to have him and the I.M.P team take a day off, allowing them to do as they please for entertainment that day. And for Blitzø, that meant inviting Fizzarolli over.

The jester admittedly was confused, but honestly, so was Blitzø. How was he even supposed to word that message? “Hey, wanna hangout?” It sounded odd to him, at least since it had been, what, 15 years?

Or maybe he was just really, really socially awkward.

He settled for calling Fizz and, very awkwardly, inviting him over with strings of words that just barely made sense; Something Fizz fully intended on teasing Blitzø for later.

Fizz barged into the door of the I.M.P headquarters, making a strong entrance as always. Blitzø nearly flipped out of his chair.

“You invited me to where you work, really?” Fizz looked around as if unimpressed. “Do you ever leave this place?”

Blitzø blinked. He does, but he lives in a raggedy old apartment, shared with Loona. He invited Fizz over to the I.M.P Headquarters both because he was embarrassed about the apartment, and he didn’t want to disturb Loona.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I just wanted to catch up since it’s been, what, fifteen years now? And the last time we did get to talk about life, we were dealing with a bunch of psycho’s trying to kill us..”

“Oh, so you can explain your reasoning here, but not on the phone, huh?” Fizz smirked, earning an eye-roll from Blitzø.

“Hey, if you came to be a dick, the door’s right behind you,” Blitzø crossed his arms. Fizz only walked further into the room, adjusting the sleeves of his light-pink top as he did so.

The jester moved to circle Blitzø for a moment, “Nope. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me today, Blitzo.”

“The ‘o’ is silent, clown! Do I have to drill a paper with it in writing through your ears in order to get it through your head?” He flicked Fizz's forehead, though the action and his tone showed that he wasn't actually upset. Usually, he would be, but things were different nowadays; He couldn’t find himself to be genuinely upset with the jester.

Fizz laughed. "Nah, I just like messing with you." He bent forward a little to be on Blitzø’s level, only teasing him further. Blitzø poked Fizz in the chest.

"Thin ice, buddy. Thin. Ice." He glared, making direct eye contact with the jester. Fizz only smiled.

"Guess I'll have to tread carefully, huh?" He gently pried Blitzø’s finger away from him.

Blitzø crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe a harmless little joke to get back at Fizz, but what?

Scare him.

Blitzø and Fizz spent about fifteen minutes discussing life, AKA Blitzø was prying into Fizz’s personal life about him and Asmodeus. Then Blitzø spoke.

“I need to grab something from the company van outside, give me a few minutes.” Then he got up and left. Fizz raised an eyebrow as he watched the shorter imp leave.

It was only partially a lie, given what he ‘needed’ wasn’t actually important. However, it was necessary for his little scheme to get back at Fizz.

Once the door to his office was closed, Blitzø ran out of the building to his company’s van. When he got to the vehicle, he started to dig through the mess of trash on the floors and seats. He mumbled something about needing to clean it, or get Moxxie to do it.

Then he grabbed it.

An airhorn.

Fizz had mentioned using an airhorn to startle Asmodeus awake, why not use the same to scare the jester? A taste of his own medicine.. sort of.

Once Blitzø had the airhorn, he ran back into the building. He looked through the window to see inside his office, Fizz wasn’t facing the door. Perfect. He made sure to shake the airhorn before entering.

He opened the door slowly and carefully, making sure to shut it the same way. You couldn’t even hear the click. He tip-toed over to Fizz, then blared the airhorn right behind hip.

Fizz fell out of his seat, and Blitzø fell right next to him, except it was because he was laughing so hard. The jester had fallen out of surprise.

“What the fuck!?” Fizz couldn’t help but crack a smile; He couldn’t be mad, he did the same to Ozzie almost every day. He mumbled, “oh, you son of a bitch..”

Blitzø was too caught up in his own laughter to notice how Fizz had stanced himself.

And then he pounced.

The squeal that came from Blitzø was one Fizz would never, ever forget.

“You think that’s funny, do you? Huh? Fine then, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” The jester exclaimed as he immediately dug his fingers into Blitzø’s sides. The imp immediately started to kick and thrash, loud laughter emitting from him against his own will.

“FIHIHIZZ! Fuck, not THIHIS!” Blitzø grabbed onto Fizz’s robotic hands, but it didn’t do much to stop the jester as he just continued to scribble his fingers along Blitzø’s torso, the killer laughing helplessly beneath him.

“Ah, just like old times, right Blitzø? You’re still so insanely ticklish!” Fizz chimed, switching to vibrate his fingers along Blitzø’s ribs. “This will never get old. Ever.”

Memories of Blitzø’s childhood with Fizz flooded his mind; They almost always had tickle fights in the free time they had growing up. They both loved it, and they were honestly pretty open about liking it to each other.

Only to each other.

“Y’know, I remember you always seemed to love it whenever I’d go riiiiight here..” Fizz trailed his fingers down to Blitzø’s stomach, eliciting high pitched giggles from the shorter imp.

“Fihihihizz!” Blitzø whined, and Fizz couldn’t help but tease further.

“N’aww, still your soft spot, huh? Tickletickletickle!” He briskly scritched and clawed at the skin, simultaneously keeping the touches gentle just to worsen the sensations for Blitzø.

It was then Fizz noticed a soft sound, something hitting the floor. He glanced to the side to see Blitzø’s tail wagging, and he had to pause for a moment to compose himself.

“Aww, Blitzø! You’re tail still wags when I do this!? Fuck, you’re making me regret hating you for fifteen years,” Fizz joked. He moved his hands down a little and drilled his thumbs into the space right above Blitzø’s hip bones, relishing in the shriek that came from the shorter imp.

“FIHIHIZZ!” Blitzø’s hands latched onto Fizz’s wrists, and he started to thrash under the jester.

“Still a bad spot, huh? Guess you’re not so different compared to when we were kids!” Fizz grinned.

Soon, Fizz stopped tormenting Blitzø and sat beside him as he composed himself. It was pretty adorable.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Blitzø huffed, glaring at Fizz with faux annoyance.

“You know you love it~” Fizz teased, delivering a few pokes to Blitzø’s sides before backing off again. He couldn’t help himself.

They both sat on the floor for the rest of the day, talking about whatever came to mind or messing with each other.

They both really did miss times like these, they missed each other, and both couldn’t be happier that they’d be able to experience it again.

#alixlives #ler!fizzarolli #lee!blitzo #helluva boss tickle #sfw tickle fic

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ilovesjamesbb · 9 months ago

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Please Don't Leave Me (Part. 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5)

Warning: Violence

You didn’t think it would get this far.

“So much has happened in the last three weeks. I don’t even know where to begin.” you said as you looked anywhere but at the person's couch you were sitting on.

“Where it’s comfortable.” Dr. Daley spoke directly. There was a moment of silence and you looked at her for a long time, incredulously almost.

“None of it is comfortable.” you crossed your arms. She sat with her legs crossed, notepad and pen draped on her legs and a hand at the side of her head.

“This isn’t an option Ms.Y/n. You have gone through a traumatic event and if you want to return to your team you will do this-”

“Agent”

“What?” She said, confused.

“Yes. I went through something traumatic and so did everyone else. And its Agent not Ms.” You spat. She shoved the book shut and leaned over the table separating the two of you.

“I know you don’t like me but I am only trying to help you. You need to learn some coping mechanisms. What you are doing to yourself isn’t healthy. Do you think it’s healthy, Agent?” She was truly trying to help but to you it just seemed condescending.

“So start where you feel is right.”

“It started three weeks ago…”

Walking through the halls. I made my way to the conference room. Bucky’s hand held mine and I was grateful. I just wanted to be close. It felt like at any moment he was going to disappear. This touch kept me grounded.

Steve, Tony, Nat, Clint, Sam, and Bruce waited for us. They were talking, pictures from the hard drives were floating on the holographic screens.

“Y/n. Bucky.” Steve greeted us.

“We were discussing the drive's content. We need to put a plan together.” Nat said from the corner. She gave me a sweet smile. I walked up to the screen, swiping the photos. I can’t believe they captured all these pictures. Images of the time me and Bucky went to the market showed up. I was staring at the fruit and Bucky was staring at me. How could I have been so oblivious? Then your breath hitched. A photo of Bucky in his room. I was in a towel wrapped and Bucky sat at my feet. It was the night Bucky carried me to the shower. The photos didn’t stop. They showed him carrying me and how he got me dressed. They showed him kissing my head as he slept, something I didn’t remember. They got it all. I turned the screen off. Everyone was looking at me, gauging my reaction.

“So what are you going to do about this?” You asked no one in particular. Tony stepped up.

“We can’t risk HYDRA taking the fight to us. We have to be prepared, so I say we strike first. We fight them. Infiltrate every base.” No one said anything.

“What are you guys scared of a little fight?” Clint jested.

“It’ll be like old times.” Nat laughed. All of a sudden Thor walked in. You hadn’t seen him in months.

“Thor. What are you doing here?” Steve asked.

“I thought you would be more excited to see me, Captain Rogers.” Thor quirked. I sighed with relief that this could really help us.

“I came because I heard about a present danger from the group HYDRA.”

“How-”

“Sergeant Barnes called for me,” he finished. Everyone looked at Bucky.

“We need all the help we can get. They are in deep and they will stop at nothing. These photos aren’t just of me. They are of all of you…” He said, looking at me.

“There are a lot of y/n” Nat spoke up. She clicked the screen and opened the file. Pictures of me flashed on the screen. Everything from the last year. Everytime I left they had a shot taken. They ranged from grocery store stops, missions, and the last one made you furious. It was a photo of me with no shirt. My bare back was shown and my arms were stretched over my head. Violated. I felt violated.

“Bucky and Thor will go to this corner of the base.” He gestured to a building on the blueprint.

“Nat and Clint you will go here and Y/n and I will take this wing. Tony and Sam will fly over and assess any threats. I think if we time everything up we can get to the center of the base and blow up-”

“Are you crazy?” I spoke up. Why would Bucky be involved with this.

“Are you trying to make this easy for them?” Nat tried to soothe me. Seeing I was distressed she tried to rub the back of my arm and I shook her off.

“You might as well put a bow on Bucky's head and leave under the goddamn Christmas tree. Here you go, here's the guy you've been wanting for months- no years!” I yelled. Why are they proposing this? Are they actually daft? This is the stupidest idea ever.

“Y/n this is the best option nothing is going to happen-” Steve said.

“No. Absolutely not. You said we all have a voice and I vote no. It’s too dangerous. I won't stand for it.”

“The lady is right. You said we have an equal part in decisions.” Thor said. I was grateful even if I didn’t show it. My anxiety was getting the best of me.

“Okay. Let’s put it to a vote. All in favor” Steve countered. Nat, Clint, and Tony raised their hands. Thor kept his down and Steve slowly raised his hand. A tie. That means we don't do it. You turned to face Bucky and he had his hand raised. I couldn't believe it. My ears started to ring and I couldn't focus. I just stared at Bucky,

“We will leave within the hour.” Steve said. I just kept staring at Bucky and then I walked out. The sounds of footsteps are the only sound heard. People started to call after me but I was seeing red. I made it to my room and packed my go bad. I threw everything in anger. I rushed to put my suit on to be sure to get changed where no one could see me. A knock sounded on the door and I knew exactly who it was. Bucky wasted no time in opening the door. I just stared at the mirror and Bucky walked behind me placing a kiss on my shoulder and I caved. Closing my eyes.

“It's going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You think that's what I'm worried about?” I turned around shaking off his touch.

“You think I’m worried about getting hurt? About dying? I couldn’t give any less of a fuck about me. It’s you. I told you that if anything happens to you I couldn’t live without you. Without you I’m nothing, just a thing taking up oxygen. You promised me this was forever and yet you don’t seem fine with putting that in jeopardy-”

“You think I’m okay with this? You think I’m okay with risking all of our lives? The reason we are in this mess is because I am a monster. I killed so many people. I was a weapon of a war that I didn’t even know was going on. As long as HYDRA is alive we will be at war. I can’t do forever knowing that at any second it could be taken away. I can’t lose this life. I can’t lose my future with you. You are everything I want. I can’t let them hurt you.” His breath was uneven and he ragged. I didn’t know what to say.

“Just don’t leave me, Bucky. Please.” I begged. I hated how pathetic I sounded but I loved him and I couldn't. There was the fear again. He started to walk away and I got scared. This was it. He finally got sick of my whining. He went to the record player and put on a record. Doris day’s “Dream a Little Dream of Me” echoed through the speakers. I was confused. He knew how much I loved this song. Before I could process it he pulled me to him and we started to dance. I rested my head on his chest. I loved the song but I loved the sound of his breath and his heartbeat. That was my favorite song. He hummed the tune and he looked at me. He pulled me in for a kiss. It wasn’t rough or possessive but filled with passion. It felt like a goodbye. Tears pricked in my eyes.

“I love you James Buchanan Barnes.” You said seriously.

“I know, doll”

I got my stuff and reluctantly headed to the jet. I was feeling better. Bucky sat across from me and gave me a soft smile. The corners of my mouth turned up and I couldn't get over the love I felt for him. We were going to be okay.

We got to the base and everything was going well. Steve and I finally got to the center of the base when Tony told him he needed help.

“Go Steve, I got it.” That's when everything went to hell. I was about to leave the base, the explosives in place when I heard a voice. A thick accent laced his menacing voice.

“Ah Y/n L/n. I’ve been waiting for you.” I slowly turned around to be faced with a gun pointed at me and some sort of mad scientist.

“You look just as good as the pictures.” He said slowly walking toward me.

“Good thing this is the last time you’ll see me then.” I countered.

“How right you are. You were supposed to report back minutes ago and you haven't. You know who will come to your rescue.” So this was his game.

“He’s probably on the jet by now, your plan is ruined.” I smirked.

“I wouldn't be so sure.” I heard the sounds of gunshots and I closed my eyes. Dammit.

“You won’t be able to stop him once he's turned. No one can.” I was confused by what he said but before I had time to think about it Bucky stormed in and was immediately thrown across the room. His metal arm sticking to a huge magnet.

“Bucky!” I screamed.

“So nice for you to finally join us Sergeant Barnes.”

“Who the hell are you?” He spat.

“You don’t remember me Soldat? Shame, you will after I make you kill your girlfriend. I’ll record the whole thing and send it to the Stark tower so that you watch it over and over again and remember how you betrayed HYDRA.” I sucked in a breath. This was not happening. Then he started to speak.

“Longing. Rusted. Furnace.”

“No! Stop!” Bucky pleaded, trying to get free from the magnet.

“Daybreak. Seventeen.”

“Y/n leave. Now.” He yelled.

“No. Not without you.” I cried.

“Benign. Nine. Homecoming.”

“Ill kill you. I won’t have a choice.” I pulled my knife and charged at the scientist when he fired a shot into my shoulder. I sank to the ground in pain and continued.

“One.”

“I forgive you, James. I love you.” I cried. I knew exactly what was ab0out to happen. I stared at him and all I saw was pain and fear. He wasn’t peaceful.

“Freight car.” His head immediately bowed, Bucky was gone, this was the Winter Soldier now.

“Soldat?” The scientist said. The Winter Soldier replied in russian.

“Ready to comply.'' The scientist turned off the magnet and he fell to the floor.

“Kill her.” My face fell.

“Don’t make him do this. I beg you. I will do whatever you want!” He laughed.

“This is what I want.” Bucky started to walk over to me. I knew what I had to do. I pulled my knife. I can’t kill him but he can kill me. I hope he forgives me. I slit my wrist.

“I love you. James, I love you.” I cried. I slit my other wrist.

“This was supposed to be forever. I promise I will never leave you.” I gave him one last look and then stabbed the knife into my chest. All the way down to the hilt. I didn’t even feel the pain. The entire time my eyes remained on Bucky. I could feel myself losing my sight and hearing. I allowed death to over take me. The Soldier stopped moving, knowing his mission was dying. I took care of the work for him. I couldn’t let him kill me. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t survive it. I laid in a pool of my blood. I could feel it seeping out of my mouth and nose. The last thing I heard was the sound of guns and struggling.

Let me know how you like this story and if I should continue!

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #depressing shit #bucky x reader

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lonelycowgirls · 2 years ago

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Been There All Along

Hellooooo.

She's here and she's beautiful. Harry and Stella are complex characters because humans generally tend to be. So, keep that in mind when reading. I left my desk last night and found it hard to accept that these two people don't actually exist. Ya girl's a little too ✨invested✨ in her made-up people.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this. She's a long one, so get a nice hot drink and settle in.

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

I give you... Part 2.

Nel xo

Where Harry goes on a lovely Sunday stroll with an old friend and things get reminiscent.

Read Part One here.

Warnings: angst | swearing | mentions of blood

Word count: 4.1k

Harry took a deep breath in as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight outside his London home. Through the busy Saturday traffic he could just about hear the birds chirping. He loved days like that, where the sky was wall-to-wall blue, where the air was chilly but comfortable if you warmed up and chased the sun's rays. He pulled the front door shut and trotted down the three steps that led to the pavement below. The terraced South Kensington abode he shared with Stella was stifling him. So, when Ellis texted to say she was in town for work, he'd jumped at her offer of a cup of coffee and a stroll.

He'd left Stella and the cats catching up on the previous night's episode of Love Island. She was due for an evening shift that night so she just wanted to chill after making a Sunday roast for the two of them. They'd had a long few nights talking things through and making up for lost time. There was rather a lot that they needed to think about and a lot of things they both needed to consider, they'd realised.

He pulled his sunglasses down from where they'd been rested atop his head and set off in the direction of the tube station. He kept his black scarf wrapped over his mouth and chin, for warmth and in the hopes of harbouring some anonymity for as long as possible. He could usually get away with it - it had been over a decade and both he and Stella had gotten very good at sneaking around so as not to be noticed, but it was always a challenge.

Walking along the pavement, he noticed the woman in front of him and marvelled at her wonderful shoe choice. Knee-high boots of dark green snakeskin. She looked great in her dark brown suede coat with its marabou feather trim. Of course, he couldn't just stop and tell her that he liked her outfit, but in that moment he really wished he could. He took a step off the pavement edge and overtook her, turning his head to nod in acknowledgement, being sure not to linger too long.

As he approached the station he began to get slightly anxious as he saw the large crowds funnelling in and out of the station. He questioned why he'd recommended that he and Ellis should meet there a little over half an hour before. He kept his head down and adjusted his tote over his shoulder.

"Hey, stranger." He heard Ellis before she squeezed his arm through his big puffer jacket. She said it close to him and pulled him into a hug quickly. She knew to be discreet so as not to draw any unnecessary attention. He bent slightly to bring her close for a quick squish before letting go with a smile.

"So good to see you, mate," he responded. "Love the hat." He said, tugging the green woollen brim of it over her eyes in jest. She laughed and stepped back to start walking.

"Thanks, dickhead," She replied. "Come on then, show me where you get your pretentious non-fat, no-foam, sugar-free latte's, Mr Hollywood."

"Oh, God you sound like Stella." He grumbled, still with a smirk as he led the way to Florence's Patisserie. They did the best lemon shortbreads, he made a mental note to remember to grab one for Stella.

"I'm only pulling your leg. We have much to discuss though." She looked at him with a knowing, mischievous glint in her eye. Ellis was always the 'wise' one of their friendship group. Always the one to oversee drama and try to distil it. She and Stella had always gotten along, since school, but she'd always been closer to Harry.

It was only a five-minute walk from the station to the café and Harry was glad of it as he'd started hearing whispers from the pedestrians flocking the streets.

"It never gets any less weird, does it." Ellis said rhetorically, as she glanced at a group of girls with their camera phones pointed at the pair. Harry gave her a tight-lipped smile. It definitely didn't bother him as much as it used to. It only really became a burden to him when his friends began to feel uncomfortable being around him. It terrified him to think that he could have lost crucial friendships in the past because of it. People that could have been a big part of his life had he not been famous. It made him that much more thankful for his blonde friend of over a decade, and the feeling warmed his belly.

The familiar pretty millennial pink writing quickly became visible in the distance and Harry sped up, seeing the end in sight. He held open the door for Ellis to step through and followed her, asking what she fancied.

"They do every alternative milk you could think of, if that's something you're into now?" Ellis gave him a look.

"Just good old cows milk will do for me, lad." He nodded and stepped up to order.

"Can I have a triple shot flat white, please? And a," he motioned for Ellis to order.

"Just a regular vanilla latte, please," She said, smiling. "Oh, and one of your delicious-looking pan-au-chocolat's as well, please." She thanked Harry for paying and they moved to the end of the counter to wait. Harry asked her about what she was doing for work in London while adding a sugar sachet to his coffee. They were halfway up the road when Harry stopped.

"Shit, I forgot about Stella."

"What?"

"I forgot to get her anything," Ellis clutched her paper cup for warmth. "Wait here for a sec." He rushed back in the direction of the shop but slowed when he heard a camera shutter. He looked to the side and spotted a paparazzo getting out of a car with a huge camera hanging around his neck. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring and turning back to hurry to pull Ellis across the road.

"Never-fucking-mind."

"Bloody hell, Harry how do you keep living like this?"

"Right, so tell me the story. I've heard parts of it from Stell, but I always like to get both sides." Harry sighed and took a sip from his coffee.

"What's Stell's side?" He side-eyed Ellis through his sunglasses, genuinely curious. Ellis side-eyed him right back.

"I'm sure what she's told me is what she's told you," they continued on towards the Heath and Harry swung the rickety old wooden gate open for Ellis to walk ahead. He took another sip of coffee and looked in front of him at the expanse of grassy hills, their destination; a rusting metal bench that sat at the peak. "She feels guilty about the way she handled the situation, but she doesn't regret it." She paused for a moment in thought, he marched by her side, beginning to see his breath exhale into the air as he panted. "She just wants you to be a bit more present, I think."

Harry thought back to their confrontation at MSG.

“You’d know all about it if you listened to anyone talk about anything that wasn’t to do with you.”

Stella always knew the buttons needed to push Harry to another level. It really hurt him to hear her say that. He'd always felt like he made an effort to listen to others - above all, to listen to her. But it definitely made him think twice about the way he'd been treating the people he cared about the most.

"Yeah, we spoke a lot about that. I'm trying, El."

"I wanna say I know you are, but to be completely honest, I don't know if you are or aren't... because we don't really speak much anymore do we?" Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, did all the women in his life recently come together in a meeting and decide it was time to give him a hard time? "Don't stress, I'm just saying." Ellis held her hand up in surrender before he could respond as she watched his brows furrow into a harsh line.

"I thought I was bloody trying, but I had so many exciting things lined up and Stell was so busy with work and..." Ellis pushed for him to continue.

"You can say what you want Harry, I won't tell Stell."

"Argh, she's just infuriating when she gets like this. Like, I don't think she realises how much pressure I'm under every bloody day. She literally ranted at me over the phone over nothing and then she laid me out in front of the people I work with and... listen, I don't wanna sound like a misogynistic prick but sometimes I just don't need all this... this feminine rage!" He finished, his free hand animated until it slapped back down to the top of his thigh. Ellis took a moment before the laughter pushed through her lips into a cackle. Harry snapped his head to look at her and then couldn't help but laugh a little. "Why are you laughing?" He asked in a tone of desperation.

"Oh, Harry you make me laugh. Just say your girlfriend is pissing you off, for God's sake. It's fine! I'm sure I piss Michael off on a daily. You've been with Stella for what? 10 years now? I mean bloody hell if she weren't pissing you off sometimes then I would think something was wrong."

"12 years actually," Harry smirked, tipping his head back to finish off the dregs of his coffee. "Honestly, we argue and bicker but she's never looked at me like she did in New York. She's the best, you know that, but she does do my head in when she gets into these... moods."

"Is it her being in a mood or is she just, I dunno, crying out for you?" She looked at him and he looked contemplative. "I've gotta be honest, and you already know how much I admire your relationship and how you've been able to make it last, but I don't think I could ever be in a relationship with you."

"Meaning?" That stung, but Harry tried not to take offence, he knew Ellis had no ill intent.

"You need to remember how hard it must be for Stella to be in a public relationship. You're literally one of the most famous men in the world right now and she has to navigate that every day," Ellis looked ahead of them, thinking about how much hate Stella got every day and how Harry never defended her. She got a little pissed off at the thought of that. "And half the time you're not even around to make all the agg worth it." She blurted out, taking a gulp of her latte and wincing at the burn at the back of her throat. Harry sighed heavily, growing agitated.

"She kept saying stuff like, 'remember who you are', on the phone. What the fuck is that about? Seriously, she can't expect me to be who I was when we were 16."

"I don't think she really means that, mate."

"Well, last time I checked, she was thoroughly enjoying the perks of being with 'one of the most famous men in the world'." Harry said, smirking cheekily in Ellis's direction.

"Don't be a cocky git, H." Ellis shut him down. She hoped that he hadn't become that person.

Harry chewed his cheek to keep from smiling, he was only winding her up but he knew he could let his ego get the best of him sometimes. He was self-aware, but he tried to go easy on himself after attending therapy sessions over it for many years. How was he not meant to get ahead of himself every once in a while when he had women, and men, lining up to tell him how amazing, handsome and talented he was? Holding up signs asking if they could call him, Daddy? Offering him jobs left and right, in industries he never thought he had any business getting involved in, with an insane amount of zeros added to each cheque they sent Jeff's way?

Stella always kept him on the ground. She'd check him, toot sweet, and with no remorse, and he needed that. But he remembered all the memories they made when they were younger, back in the 1D days. She'd fucking loved being Harry's girlfriend, that was a hill he would gladly die on. She'd loved the fast-paced, glamour of it all. She'd loved being by his side and knowing that almost every girl in the world wanted to be in her position. Travelling the world and fucking their way through tour dates. Waking up, naked and barely remembering any words in the English language but each other's names, and being too in love to worry about it. She'd stayed in the best hotel rooms money could buy and he'd flown her out first class whenever she'd had time off at university. She'd eaten at the best restaurants cities had to offer. He thought back to buying expensive lingerie for her, scheduling it to be delivered while he was rehearsing and returning to the many hotel rooms they stayed in to find her wearing it, sprawled on the bed and looking better than he could ever have imagined. He always marvelled at the way she could take his breath away. Every damn time.

She'd lived every 19-year-old's dream.

"I know she loved being with a pop star when she was a teenager, even into her early 20s... that life was new and exciting, for all of us. We all got swept up in it, including you." Ellis snapped him out of his wandering mind and he frowned, nodding. It was true, Harry's life went from zero to 60 overnight and thus so did Stella's. He made sure to take his friends with him for as long and as far as he could. They had amazing times. But everything changed when Stella graduated into midwifery, it was her dream and she was damn good at it. But her life became very serious, all of a sudden. Harry had begun to feel inadequate as a partner, he found her so impressive and it made him feel inferior. What he had to offer, she didn't want or need anymore. She had this wonderful qualification to bring life into the world, after dedicating years of her life to educating herself for it.

It caused havoc in their relationship, and confrontation began to bubble to the surface in ways it hadn't before. They'd nearly separated but decided to push through. Stella took a year out and Harry knew it was time to call it quits with the band. They'd spent time at home for the first time since Harry got on the X Factor and it changed everything. They both knew they had become a forever thing.

She gave up everything for him, to make it work. Now, perhaps it was time for him to consider doing the same. He looked at his friend, his brows deep in a frown behind his sunglasses.

"She's a grown woman now, Harry. She needs stability and support, she needs a man." Ellis nudged his side, smirking with a wink. "Her man."

"Alexa, play BBC Radio Two." Stella called to the little robotic woman who lived in her bedroom, before she began to ascend the stairs, cup of tea in hand. Delilah, the ginger Maine Coon Harry had brought home almost three years ago, dipped in and out of her legs to follow her, always her shadow. Their other cat, a Ragdoll named Percy, stayed in the living room. He'd jumped, or more accurately plopped, down into the dip in the sofa that Stella left behind when she'd gotten up. Percy was Stella's granddad's beloved pet and she'd taken him in after he passed away. He was 13 years old and yearned for a much slower life in his old age. But she adored him.

Stella and Delilah crossed the landing towards the main bedroom and while Stella went into the ensuite, the cat made haste to sit underneath her dressing table, knowing she would soon be required to keep her owner's feet warm by cuddling up on top of them while makeup was carefully applied.

The figure in the mirror over the sink stared back at Stella, with bags under its eyes and hair pulled up in a messy - not even a nice messy - bun with flyaways sticking out all over the place. She shook her head with a sigh and flicked the cold tap on to splash water over her face, in an attempt to bring her dull skin back to life. Work was killing her, she'd leave one shift, only to be back in for a double six hours later. It'd been a few days since she'd flown back from New York and she'd been almost flat out since. She hoped it was a temporary thing, due to staff members calling in sick and kept her fingers crossed it would die down soon.

The radio had been purely background noise until she heard the familiar notes and dulcet tones of her other half.

"You know it's not the same as it was..."

"You've got that right, babe," she chuckled sadly to herself. She thought back to the night Melanie gave birth to baby Molly and took a long shaky breath inwards.

Wednesday 21 September 2022

The room was dark, all but silent apart from a few monotonous beeps signalling Melanie's heart was still beating. Stella remembered the first time she'd been privy to a situation where all that mattered was that the beeps kept coming. One at a time, steady and consistent, that's all that was needed. She'd had nightmares where the beeps stopped. Dead. Silence.

George's voice, calm but stoic, shook her out of her daze. "You did everything you could, Stella. Dr. Brooks knows what she's doing, this baby will be fine." Stella looked up at him beside her, dressed in his blue labour scrubs, hairnet and mask.

"She has to be, George." Her voice was shaking, what had just happened was one of the most traumatic labours she'd come up against. She couldn't help but blame herself. After all, she'd been up for close to 22 hours by then. She wasn't up to assisting in Mel's labour, she'd been selfish in her choice to rush back and take over. She raised a wobbly hand up to her forehead and rubbed, willing herself not to cry.

Dr. Brooks worked skilfully and moved with absolute purpose, decades of experience had made her hands nimble. This baby needed to come out quickly and efficiently. Melanie had already lost a lot of blood and they couldn't afford for the baby to be starved of oxygen.

Stella closed her eyes and breathed deep.

"Take deep breaths for me, Mel." Stella was between Melanie's legs and it had been nearly an hour of intermittent pushing, to no avail. How could that be when she was fully dilated? "Come on, I know you can do this."

"I can't, I ca-can't." Melanie stuttered above her, taking huge drags from the gas and air, nearing unconsciousness.

"I don't think she's getting any contractions now, G," Stella stated, eyes wide in early panic as she looked at her general manager for help. Stella had already had to cut into Melanie in an attempt to accommodate the baby's head and shoulders, but she was just not budging.

"Stay calm. Mel, Melanie," George spoke gruffly over Stella's head and she snapped her head to look at his sudden move to the top of the bed. Melanie's head had gone slack, the spout of the gas and air tube hanging from her lips that were rapidly turning blue.

"Fuck." Stella whispered, barely audible. The following moments were a blur. She looked down at her gloved hands, gloves that were once blue but had turned red. She looked down at her scrubs, red, all the way down to her knees. "Fuck."

"Alright, here she is," Stella startled out of her reverie with the cry of a newborn. A beautiful newborn baby and it was possibly the most gorgeous sound she'd ever heard. The relief nearly took her out at the knees. George threw an arm around Stella's shoulders and squeezed and she smiled for the first time in what felt like days. Her ears pricked up as they searched for the all-important sound and there it was. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Under the flowing water of the hospital shower, Stella felt numb. She rested her head on her shoulders and let the droplets run down her body, breathing deeply. She thought about Harry. She wished he was there, it made her face crumble for a moment and she let a fist hit the shower wall in frustration. She might have fucked up her job and her relationship in one night, impressive even by her standards.

Stepping out in a rough, clinically pressed white towel that probably took off a layer of skin as she rubbed it up and down her limbs, she'd never felt more drained. She was tired to her bones. A friend on another ward, Angel had travelled in to bring Stella some clothes as she only lived a short walk away. She'd left them in Stella's locker for her to collect before going on her shift.

She dragged the velour trackie bottoms up her legs and threw the hoodie over her head, forgoing a bra - there was no way the girls were going to be constrained while she was in this mental state, that might've actually driven her to the brink.

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to get the image of Melanie's unconscious face out of her mind. Baby and mother were both alive. Melanie was torn up, but she was alive. That's what mattered.

Towelling her hair dry, she couldn't wait to get home, get into bed and most likely cry herself to sleep. Throwing her bloodied scrubs into the wash bin next to the lockers and grabbing her bag from her locker she left and pushed the door to the staff changing area open. Had it always weighed a tonne? Shuffling in Angel's sliders that were a size too big for her, she smiled softly at Val who was still at the front desk. She'd probably finished, gone home and come back in the same time Stella had been dealing with Melanie. Val smiled smugly and looked to her right. Stella followed her gaze and nearly doubled over when her eyes landed on him.

"Oh my god," she sputtered through a breath. "Harry."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, his eyes fluttered open and he shook his head slightly to adjust to his surroundings. Vision clearing and landing on her, he rose from the hard plastic chairs and Stella finally broke down. Her face crumbled at the pure comfort he brought just by being near. He was wearing what he'd worn to the arena the night before.

"Harry, have you been here all night?" She sobbed and he welcomed her to step into him bringing his hands to cup her cheeks, catching her tears with his thumbs. He nodded subtly, his brows pinching in the middle, exhausted and emotional. She dropped her bag to the floor and craned her neck slightly to push her lips to his, short quick pecks as he stroked the skin under her eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. "Please, don't ever run away again."

"I love you too, I'm sorry, baby." She whispered back, stroking his hair back and scratching the back of his neck.

"And you flew right after her..." Ellis said wistfully, looking at her friend as they neared the metal bench at the top of the Heath.

"Yeah... not gonna be winning any awards for eco-friendliness any time soon." He joked.

"Fair play, you can be a bloody romantic sod when you want to be, H." She marvelled, looking out to the skyline below them. He looked out to watch the rest of London going about their lives. An older couple caught his eye, holding hands and walking in step with each other down the hill. He thought about Stella for the umpteenth time that day; that was nothing new. They weren't perfect, but that night when she'd helped bring new life into the world, they'd brought new life into their relationship. And watching the pair of strangers continue their stroll, as the man brought his partner into his side to kiss the top of her head, he knew it would all be worth it in the end.

Because she'd been there all along.

----

Hope you enjoyed this little glance into Harry and Stella's world. If you've made it this far, I love ya!

See you next time.

Nel xo

Itty bitty taggy listy:

@lomlhstyles | @jessitpwk

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fic rec #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff

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egg-emperor · 1 year ago

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My sources for the Eggman info that's considered, compiled, and included in my analysis and fact sharing:

THE GAMES - English and JP. Number one source above everything. Anything outside of it has to align with them to be considered because I'm specifically all about game canon Eggman and there's no other place that's going to define game Eggman than, well, the games themselves

Sonic Channel - Because Sega/Sonic Team JP are most credible when it comes to their own characters. the information is valuable and adds a lot of cool details, fun facts, art, stories, and videos, faithful to the games

TailsTube English and JP - Because they're made to be informative about the characters and world we see in the games and are meant to be the rundown of facts and things we need to know. Possibly also JP VTuber stream stuff but I still haven't gotten entire translations of VTuber Eggman's first appearance yet to be able to compile and analyze anything

Sega/Sonic Team official writers/creators, English or JP - ONLY if they worked on the specific piece of media/story/character they're speaking on. For example, Flynn on writing Frontiers, but if it's game he didn't write for then no. Unless it's someone who is a credible source on possessing knowledge even outside of that like Iizuka for example, and it adds up with the games' contents

Small bonuses - Some promotional material both English and JP. For example, the Sonic Forces join the Eggman Empire video on the English YouTube and the JP Sonic Forces Eggman takeover Eggman video because they're used to promote the games and don't contradict anything and only add to it. This varies as stuff that isn't directly tied to the games or made entirely in jest doesn't count

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In rare cases I will also refer to bios to support already existing facts in the games further. But Eggman has had a couple of very inaccurate bios where he's done the exact opposite in the games of what the bio states at times. So it's not black and white, I don't take it as solid proof if it's only ever been stated in the bio and won't refer to bios alone. There has to be something to point to in the games that either proves or disproves the information provided

And these alone (not including the Boom videos) really do give you all you need to know above everything as they speak for themselves:

All the main canon titles are included here and I'm working on others.

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

And that's it. And all of the above except for the games themselves can vary a lot because it needs to be 100% reflected in the games for it to be considered and added to my fact compiling and used in my analysis. If it contradicts it or there's no solid evidence reflecting it in the games and it also doesn't make sense as a result, I won't include it

I don't like to mash all the different official media together and use that as proof of character or stories in the games. I see people do this a lot by talking like something is game canon and when asked for sources, they pull up Archie, X, Boom, SatAM, non canon apps, Twitter DMs, contradictory bios, etc, it makes stuff super confusing and most are from separate non canon universes

You can do what you want in your own fan stuff of course but please understand that I specifically discuss, analyze, and write about game canon Eggman myself here and value and appreciate canon and want to show my love and passion for it. And these are my heavily excessively analyzed sources for everything I gather and perceive of his character facts and writing etc

I'm also always trying to keep my headcanons and fics as accurate to what I learn from all of this as possible, so if you don't like how Eggman is in the games/any of these sources in terms of personality and actions, you won't like my stuff. Trust me, everyone who has said they're not big fans of game canon Eggman has wound up hating my stuff lol. If you love game Egg like me then please discuss him with me 💜🥚

Figured this would be a good post to make and link in my pinned bio post when I make it. I may update and change things in this list in the future and have this post be the main place to refer to where I get my stuff from

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #my post #important #sources

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weepingfromacedartree · 1 year ago

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I am very bored. Here's another snippet of my WIP, for anyone as bored/starved for content as me.

August 2nd, 2019

“Look at them. They’re shameless.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘oblivious.’”

“You're right. I would tell them to get a room, but they’d just waste it. They’d sit atop the king size mattress and play Go Fish.”

Daphne uses one hand to swat Benedict in the gut and the other to stifle her laugh. Her endeavour to remain somewhat quiet may be pointless, though. Colin and Penelope are within earshot, but appear too engrossed by their conversation to notice any one of the hundreds of party-goers passing by them. Still, Daphne grabs Benedict by the hinge of his elbow and pulls him away from the merrily unaware pair.

“How long until we’re attending their wedding, do you think?” he asks, once the two of them are out of view.

“Ooh — good quest—”

“Who’s wedding?” Anthony interrupts, seemingly appearing out of nowhere with his bride in hand.

“Colin and Penelope’s, of course,” Benedict replies, not-so-subtly wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ah.” Anthony sighs contemplatively, gently nodding his head. “Never.”

“Don’t be such a downer,” Benedict shoots back.

“I’m not, I —”

“Yes you are, love,” Kate interrupts, laughing lightly. “In case you forgot, there was a time when either one of us would have said the same about our wedding. And look where we are now.” With that, she briefly extricates her hand from his grasp to point at the massive white wedding around them.

“I fail to see your point, love.” Anthony laughs too, although it doesn’t succeed in covering up the hint of petulance rising in his voice. “We are nothing like them. We loathed each other, they’re just…” He cranes his neck to get a look at the duo in question; they are a few metres away, still talking closely by a bush of red roses. “Friends.”

“No offence, Anthony,” Daphne chimes in, “but you don’t have the best track record in seeing what’s right before your eyes.”

After muttering something unintelligible beneath his breath, Anthony forces a smile. “Could we please go back to discussing mine and Kate’s wedding — which in case you forgot, is real and is currently happening — instead of some made up, hypothetical, fantasy wedding that will never happen?”

“Who’s wedding will never happen?” Francesca asks, suddenly appearing from behind the growing group.

“Mine, obviously,” Eloise jests from right beside her. Kate offers a more useful answer.

“We’re placing bets on when Colin and Penelope’s wedding will be held.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Eloise scoffs and says, “Never.” When informed that Anthony already called “Never,” she updates her bet.

“Fine. A hundred years. Perhaps, then, he’ll be good enough for her.”

“What made you two so bitter?” Benedict asks. “I’ll say four years. Oh — Frannie, are you making a spreadsheet?”

“Of course.” She does not even look up from her phone, disappointed that her brother ever felt the need to ask a question with such an obvious answer; she's always in charge of the spreadsheet.

Simon is the next participant to appear out of the blue. After instinctively placing a hand on his wife's round belly, he smirks, turns to the rest of the group, and asks, “What is it that we are betting on?”

“Christ,” Anthony mutters. He points to Eloise. “You, go track down Gregory and Hyacinth and wrangle them over here. I’m not going through these parameters again.”

Once every Bridgerton sibling and spouse is gathered in a circle in the middle of the wedding hall (save for Colin, still blissfully unaware of the situation unfolding just a few metres away from him), they all agree to bet on the exact timing of this foregone conclusion.

“I say two years,” says Daphne. “One year to get together, another to get married.”

“I don’t know, babe.” Simon casts a glance over his shoulder to where Penelope and Colin still stand by the rose bushes. “They look even closer than they usually do at these sorts of functions — and that’s saying quite a lot. I could see them getting married within the year.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daphne chuckles so fully that she braces a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “No. No offence, but you are giving those two far too much credit. I fear even my bet was too optimistic.”

On the other side of the circle, Gregory clears his throat. “No, I see where Simon is coming from. Penelope looks quite pretty tonight — plus, love and marriage are in the air… Who knows? Maybe they’ll run off and get married tonight.”

When his answer is met with a chorus of boos and questions regarding his sanity, Gregory simply shrugs.

“Stranger things have happened. Put me down for tonight, Fran.”

“Fine. Your funeral.” After typing the last few digits, Francesca looks up from her phone and over to the bride. Smiling, she asks, “Are you ready to partake in your first official Bridgerton bet, Kate?”

“I would be honoured to,” she says, a smile lighting up her own face. For the first time since this discussion began, Anthony actually looks to be enjoying it; he places a kiss on his wife’s forehead as she considers the possibilities. “Unfortunately, I am not quite as optimistic as Daphne. I’ll say ten years from now — that’s how long it took for Anthony and I to figure things out and get married.”

Her response receives a few “awws” from the group, but Anthony looks at her skeptically. “Don’t forget that Colin and Penelope have known each other their entire lives,” he tells her. “By that logic, they would have gotten married during primary school.”

“Fine, then. Nine years from now, since they had such an ample head start.”

“Kate is on the right track,” Hyacinth chimes in from her spot beside Gregory. Before continuing, she plucks a sausage roll from his hand and plops it into her own mouth.

“Hey —”

“Those two are absolutely hopeless. I mean, look at them.” She raises her arm, indiscreetly pointing to the spot where Colin and Penelope still talk amongst the roses, still unaware of the bets currently being placed on their future wedding. “It’s unsettling, just how oblivious they are. They’ll continue on just as they are until one of us intervenes.”

“Get to the point, Hyacinth,” Gregory grumbles, guarding the rest of his sausage rolls from her carefully.

“Seven years. Once I graduate from uni, I’ll devote my time to selflessly ensuring that our brother finally figures his shit out.”

Although not intended as a joke, this earns her a few chuckles from the group. Not from Anthony (or Gregory), though.

“Don’t you think there could be a better use of your time following uni? A job, per—”

“Better than true love? I think not.” Before Anthony can protest any further, Hyacinth turns to the only Bridgerton who has yet to place her bet. “Frannie, what’s your pick?”

Looking up from her phone screen again, Francesca glances around the group with a conflicted look passing on her face. “Since I’m the one keeping bets, should I not act as a neutral observer?” When her question is met with a unanimous “No,” she places the final bet.

“Fine. Three and a half years.”

“What is going on here?”

Violet appears just behind Francesca. Her face is fixed with an expression that is quite familiar to the group — the one marked by a pleasant smile and panicked eyes. It’s the expression her children see at every social event that they happen to cause trouble at. In other words — it’s the look they’ve seen at least one time at every social event they’ve attended in the past twenty or so years.

“Nothing, mum,” Francesca says quickly, depositing her phone back into her purse as discreetly as she can manage.

“Just congratulating Kate and Anthony on hosting such a beautiful, drama-free wedding ceremony,” Benedict chimes in.

Violet’s face starts to relax into something a bit more naturally pleasant, obviously sharing the opinion. Not that she fully believes her children are not up to no good, but she’s willing to save herself the headache and not investigate their suspicious activity any further.

“Well, I suppose it’s fortunate that I found you all in one place. It’s time to gather in the garden for the family photos.” She scans the group around her, smile suddenly faltering. “Oh, dear — where’s Colin?”

Most of the group can’t help but keep in their smirks, giggles, and — in Eloise’s case — audible groans hidden. Before Violet can question their strange behaviour, though, Anthony steps forward. He places a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder and tells her, “I spotted him loitering by the refreshment table a moment ago. I’ll grab him and meet you all outside.”

As soon as he turns on his heel, he spots them still standing beside those red roses. They’re standing even closer than they were a few minutes ago, leaning towards each other as Colin shows her something on his phone.

Walking towards them, Anthony doesn’t think much of their decreasing proximity. Or how his younger brother had been too engrossed in their conversation to notice the trouble brewing just a few metres away from him in the last fifteen minutes. Despite his siblings’ fun and games, he stands firm on his original conclusion.

They are friends. Why wouldn’t they be close?

But as Anthony closes the gap between himself and the aforementioned friends, he overhears the last few remnants of their conversation. The words cause him to stop dead in his tracks.

#cutting off this scene rather abruptly for spoiler reasons #srry guys #polin #bridgerton #fanfiction #no but idk how I'm gonna survive this drought much longer #wake me up when the SAG strike ends 😭

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pagingdoctorbedlam · 1 year ago

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Hello! You mentioned about your arknights friend-ships?? Please please share!

Hooooooo boy, this is going to be a Long One. Even before I got the Lingering Echoes brainrot (and believe me, there will be plenty of Ebenholz and Czerny in here), my main source of creative interaction with the game was to imagine how my many operators interacted. So a lot of the friendships here are inspired by my own team comps!

Gonna' put this under a readmore...

Vigna & Zima: The Vanguard Besties! They bash in heads, then hang out together to talk music and such, helping each other pretend they are both Normal Teen Girls.

Similarly, Utage & Angelina & Every Other Teen: Utage and Angelina have unofficially decided that they're in charge of helping the other teen on RI lead somewhat normal lives. They're the Cool Older Sisters who check in on everyone, lead events like movie nights and slumber parties, etc. They also have plenty of Girl Talk nights themselves!

Amiya & Beeswax: Sometimes, Amiya needs to unwind and empathize with someone who is a solid foundation of Calm And Chill. This is when she hangs out with Beeswax, both of them unwinding while they catch up.

The Lappland Protection Squad (Lappland and every high-block character): Anyone who blocks enemies for Lappland to slice and dice on the battlefield gets a shirt. It started as a jest to fluster Bison, but then Lappland just...kept doing it. Now nearly every Defender and a few high-block Guards like Gaviel all have a "Lappland Protection Squad" shirt. Some of them even wear it around the landship, which genuinely makes Lappland happy.

Hellagur & Dusk: Somehow, these old souls have reached an understanding, and Hellagur can approach Dusk with the perfect mix of respect and authority. Aka he is one of the few who can actually drag Dusk out of her room for nearly any reason. He's given her candy, and she's offhandedly given him a painting that he's quietly hung in his room.

Czerny & Lumen: This mostly crops up because @cherrygrudge and I keep RPing them in games together, so now they are Universally Pals. Czerny's drive inspires Lumen, while Lumen keeps Czerny in-check health-wise, and both are fair confidantes when the other is feeling low. Lumen has also figured out a few massages to help with Czerny's Oripathy-related backaches, bless his soul.

Czerny & Exusiai: Another friendship inspired by a friend, this one being discussed in-depth with @annierosaart. These two actually see through each other's masks of bravado on the battlefield, so they can actually open up and talk about their deeper feelings with each other. Usually while drinking. They drink together a fair bit if the other cannot find another drinking partner.

Ebenholz & Stainless & RockRock & Surtr: Stainless is the extrovert who drags the introverts along on adventures and gets them to all hang out. They especially like going to rock shows together, sometimes supervising the teen operators like Vigna while out. (Also, Stainless and Ebenholz are both trans and bond over this, I do not make the rules).

Sesa & Mr. Nothing: Once these two start talking, they do not stop and no one can understand them. Are their eccentricities feeding into each other, or are they trying to one-up each other...?

Czerny & Rope: I've rambled about this elsewhere, but both come from rough and poor backgrounds, and I think them bonding over this (and how honestly tough it is to recover and accept help) would be neat to see.

Ebenholz & Rosmontis & Ifrit: The "Mad Science Brain Bastards" trio, who while seeming to clash on the outside actually balance each other well on the inside. Ebenholz especially keeps an eye out on the girls and is helping teach them music to better control their Arts, but they keep him grounded too. If one is havibg a bad brain day, expect the other two to crop up and help posthaste.

Carnelian & Nightmare: Carnelian actually gets along with both beings, and it seems to help Nightmare to actually have a friend of her own. Everyone else watches warily to hope Carnelian will continue to be a *positive* influence...

Archetto & Bagpipe: They talk about dreams and farming, among other things, you can catch them in the greenhouse sometimes, working on crops and singing, or sharing a drink after hours.

La Pluma & Pallas: La Pluma looks after Pallas whenever the Minoan Hero is drinking at her bar, and is also one to actually ask about Pallas's many stories, which Pallas appreciates.

Pallas & Hellagur: Also old war hero drinking buddies, though Hellagur is actually a good influence who keeps Pallas from getting too deep in the cups.

Ebenholz & Texas: Inspired by a ficlet by @catgirlcrisis, but these two would have A Lot to talk about...or just be happy to vibe without saying anything at all, especially while their louder companions are up to Antics.

Czerny & Blitz: Czerny is helping teach Blitz about the differences between Leithanien and German culture (and they are...also drinking buddies). Blitz also keeps sharing Earth songs with Czerny to see if the composer can "help him recreate his favorite songs here", though it's mostly Blitz bringing over meme songs. Czerny has caught on, but he actually likes some of the songs (he managed to make a slow ballad out of "Never Gonna Give You Up"), so he doesn't mind.

Reed & Pozyemka: Poets who wish they could hide away in a fantasy land, but they both have to face reality and make a change. Still, they find time to unwind together.

Ebenholz & Viviana: I saw a comic once of them being childhood friends and I love it to bits. If Viviana ever joins RI, her and Eben are so delighted to reunite and catch up. They talk *a lot* about books.

Cardigan & Beeswax: Odd friends from the Leithanien Group Chat (as Cardi is in fact Leithanien, and Beeswax tags along with Carnelian to enough events/chats that she's considered an Honorary Member by the others). Cardigan enthusiastically attempts to help Beeswax with horn upkeep and such, and while she's a bit of a klutz with is...well, Beeswax is a klutz too, so she doesn't mind.

I could spin up plenty more, but I hope you all enjoy at least some of these!

#arknights #bedlam rambles #bedlam answers #i am not tagging everyone there are SO MANY PEOPLE

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neuroglitch · 1 year ago

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Now can we please go back to discussing the actual topic of the post, please?

Because I'm not sure if y'all are with me on how harmful it is to insist that any one symptom is exclusive to any which disorder, and how much harm it does to the mad-and-neurodivergent community.

Like people will be up in arms, condemning people for self-diagnosing based on one symptom they find relatable. Yet they leave no space for people to genuinely experience said symptom without having the "correctly associated disorder".

I am just gonna come right out and give an example even though it gets spicy when I get specific. But let's take symptoms of ASD. Some people who aren't autistic do stim, some do have special interests. (Many also struggle with social cues and sensory processing etc. but for some reason that's more generally Allowed).

But no one symptom of ASD is unique to austistic people, it's just that when enough of them occur together, psychiatry has given it a specific name. That's it. And that's not getting into the fact that even if there are enough of these symptoms present, in practice it routinely gets overwritten by other disorders (see the austistic youth to schizophrenic adult pipeline for an example).

If it's the same symptom, done for the same reasons, it's the same experience. The "reason" is not found in the diagnostic category. The reason is found by listening to people's lived experience and trusting them to have an idea what is going on in their life.

I wonder what the purpose of gatekeeping symptoms or words for symptoms is? I'm not talking about gatekeeping them from neurotypical abled people who are using them in jest. I'm talking about other nd and marginalized people who don't have any well-known or largely recognized terms by which to describe these experiences? And who are literally experiencing the same symptom, just as a part of an otherwise somewhat different collection of symptoms.

Like I get the need to protect your own communities. But I think the differences between us have been exaggerated to a point where too many of us have lost track of the fact that we have so much in common. And that having things in common is not a bad thing..

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annwrites · 3 months ago

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—the fox & the flower | gwayne hightower x niece!reader

quotes | playlist

“Please, mother, may I go?” You ask excitedly, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet with elation.

Meanwhile, your mother merely stares down at the invitation in her hand, carefully considering.

The corner of her mouth tugs down into a frown and you begin to deflate.

Her eyes meets yours and she gives you a forced smile. “It is all the way at Highgarden, my love. You would need a royal escort, a chaperone, not to mention—”

“I don’t…”

You pause. “I understand I will need protection. But it is for one night. One evening where I may be someone else for just a few hours. Not the princess that others are expected to prostrate themselves before, not a Targaryen, not royalty. Just…whomever I choose to be. I hardly ever ask you for anything—have been the least troublesome of my siblings, besides Helaena. Please, mother, please,” you beg, taking her hands in yours.

“But you are a princess, sweetling,” she states, cupping your cheek. “And should be treated as such. Protection will be required. You know this. It concerns me how desperately you wish to play pretend for an evening. What you might…have in mind.”

You take a small step back.

“Have I ever disappointed you? Stepped out of line? Done anything untoward, or sullied myself in any shape or form in my entire life? I’ve been nothing but a perfect, shining example of what a highborn lady—a princess—should be. I hold even myself to an impossibly high standard, because I know I must, lest I let everyone down. Lest I be chastised for there being a…a crack in my porcelain.

“Please just… Guards may accompany me. But the night of the masquerade, I would prefer to be…my own company. Elsewise, everyone will know who I am, and crowds will flock to me all evening. If I wanted for that, I may as well remain here instead.”

You take the letter from her, clutching it to your chest.

“Please, mother. Soon enough, I will be wed to someone of your and father’s choosing—some stranger whom I may not even love,” tears sting your eyes at the words. “And this chance for one night of joy and celebration forever stolen from me.”

She chews the inside of her cheek. “Perhaps Aemond should accompany—”

You groan, throwing your head back. “So he may complain during the entire journey, as well as all night about how he’d rather be here riding Vhagar, or practicing with a sword in the yard, or getting up to Gods know what else. And he’ll be attached to my side all night, acting the protective elder brother, driving me insane. If he comes with me, so help me, I’ll take his other eye.”

She draws in a sharp gasp. “Young lady!”

You shrink into yourself, your cheeks warming.

“Forgive me,” you mutter.

“It’s not as if he’s never threatened to feed me to Vhagar,” you mumble.

She rolls her eyes, padding across the room. “A jest, obviously. Not that I am excusing such behavior.”

She turns back to you. “You know he is very protective over you. Aemond would never lay a hand upon you.”

You cross your arms. “I’m done talking about Aemond.”

You know she’s trying to change the subject, even if the mention of him is clearly connected to the matter at-hand.

Finally, she sighs, seating herself upon a lounge near the balcony. “I will need speak with your father about this.”

You shift on your feet.

“Will he…understand what it is which you’re asking?” You say quietly.

She pats the cushion beside her, so you seat yourself.

“I’ll go to him first thing in the morn when his mind is most clear and we shall discuss it. But, once I give you our answer—the King’s answer—you must accept it, even if it is not that which you wish to hear.”

You think for a moment.

“What if the two of you agree, and I go, and he…” Your chin wobbles. “He slips away while…”

She softly clicks her tongue, pulling you into her arms, cradling the back of your head while she gently rocks you to and fro. “Let us not think of such things, my sweet girl.”

She pulls away, tucking a silver lock of hair behind your ear. “But if he did…”

She sniffles. “His suffering would be at an end. We would have that to comfort us, my darling. That he would finally have peaceful rest at last.”

You nod, rubbing your fingertips nervously into the palm of your hand. “If I am allowed to go, I will sit with him before. Talk to him.”

Say goodbye, just incase….

She nods with a solemn smile, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead.

Not only have you been given permission from your father, the King himself, but your mother has written to your uncle in Oldtown, asking if he would kindly host you once the celebrations at Highgarden are at an end.

She wishes for you to see the place of her birth, and you also wish to see your brother, and to meet your uncle for the first time in all your life.

He had agreed in kind, promising he shall meet you at the site itself, as he has been invited as well to the ball.

You cannot recall a time where you've felt more pleased or excited than you do now with all you have to look forward to.

You fill with relief when the gossip you’d heard in the gardens proves to be true: more than one head wears silver hair tonight—somehow allowing your own head of such hair to be a disguise for once, instead of a beacon like that atop the Hightower.

You stand off to the side—for once all on your own, and it makes you feel, for the first time in your entire life, like a woman grown.

You sip idly from a crystal glass of champagne, a small smile playing on your lips at the grand ballroom which lies before you.

Sparkling chandeliers lit by countless candles hangs from a high, painted ceiling. The marble floor has been polished so well you can practically see your own reflection upon it. Bouquets of roses and tulips and lilac and more fill large pots, and painted ivy climbs up large pillars throughout the room.

High tables hold flowing towers of more champagne, and silver trays advertise decadent treats of cake and pastel-colored macaroons, small sandwiches and tiny sausages, fresh fruits and vegetables, among a selection of other finger-foods.

Lovely music plays from a group of musicians at the head of the hall: a harp, violins, flutes, trumpets, drums… And women in glittering gowns with ornate masks spin round and round as men in well-tailored suits hold them close in their arms.

It’s true: this place—Highgarden—is something out of a fairytale.

Oh, how you never wish to leave.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

You turn with pleased surprise that someone is finally speaking to you—and he is quite handsome, even with a mask, which resembles a golden fox—tied to his face. Tall and lean, with reddish-golden strands and emerald-green eyes, a smirk upon his feline lips.

He comes closer, taking your free hand in his, and he leans down, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it.

“My Lady,” he greets lowly.

You curtsy, blushing. “My Lord.”

He takes a small step closer, gazing into your eyes. “Not the first Targaryen, or Valyrian princess—or, mayhaps, lady—I’ve had the pleasure of encountering this evening, but you are the first to have violet eyes. How did you accomplish that facet of your costume?”

Your lip twitches. “I shall never tell.”

He raises a brow in interest. “I’m most adept at acquiring secrets from comely young maidens. I’ve yet to meet one which is a match for my silver tongue.”

You take another sip of your champagne, staring at him all the while in interest.

He shrugs slightly. “There are…other ways of confirming, of course.”

“Confirming?” You question.

“Mm, if you are who you claim to be. If the hair on your head is merely an illusion, or if you are truly a daughter of the King.”

You blink at him in ignorance. “How would you do that?”

He smirks, sipping from his own glass. “Mayhaps you will allow me to show you later tonight.”

He glances outside, through open stained-glass doors, toward the large, expansive gardens just down the steps that lead out from the castle.

“In the hedge maze?” He suggests, meeting your lovely eyes once more.

You shift nervously on your feet, which he takes note of, knowing he needs treat his prey more gently if he is to win this hunt.

“I…do not know. It’s very large, and I would fear getting lost within.”

He gives you a charming wink. “Lucky for you that I have an excellent sense of direction.”

You force a smile, turning back to the dancing courtiers before you.

He remains silent for a moment, merely admiring you: your curled silver hair done in an intricate style—pearl and jewel pins littered throughout, along with tiny flowers—your lovely pink gown, which flows from your body like water, your bare, slender shoulders, even the finely-designed mask you don—simple, yet beautiful, with its opalescent colors. And round your neck hangs a long pearl necklace that rests atop your soft breasts, your dainty fingers which grip your glass house a few silver rings upon them.

He can only imagine how comely those most intimate parts of you that’re currently hidden from him are in comparison to the rest of you.

He intends to discover such hidden treasures for himself before this night is through and the morning sun rises high above the clouds.

As a servant with a silver tray balanced upon their palm goes to pass, he rests his glass upon it—being so bold as to take yours as well—before offering you his hand.

“Would you care to dance? I’ve a difficult time believing you decided to attend merely to spectate. And to let a jewel as rare as you stand to the side as a wallflower all night would be a waste indeed.”

You’ve already deigned that he is most certainly a flirt in every essence of the sense, but you know that you are in control of yourself.

That nothing occurs tonight without your say-so. So long as you go nowhere alone with him, all’s well that ends well.

Now that it is dark, you do not intend to leave the castle’s confines anyway, so you take his hand.

“I would like that very much.”

He smiles, flashing a set of brilliant white teeth, sweeping you onto the dance floor.

You quickly rest a hand upon his strong shoulder, while he continues to hold your other, sliding his opposite to rest in the middle of your back, and the two of you step this way and that, spinning round and round, and you smile all the while with your heart fluttering in your chest.

Yes, you for once feel just like a princess from the stories. And he, a handsome young lord or knight or prince, come to save you from your sorrows.

“So,” he says. “It is up to us to be whomever we wish to be tonight. To make our story as we want it. Tell me, my lovely lady, who are you?”

You smile contentedly.

“I…” You pause for a moment, thinking. “Am, in truth, a swan."

He raises a brow in interest, chuckling. "Are you?"

You nod. "Indeed, I am. I come from a faraway land, a deep blue pond the color of rare sapphires my home. And, for one night every year, I am given the gift of having a human form bestowed upon me to do with as I wish."

He thinks on what you've said for a moment.

"It seems to me we should make the absolute most of this evening we share, then, should we not? Before you are stolen away from me come the morn."

You lip twitches, deciding not to reply to that. "And who are you, my handsome suitor?"

"I, myself, am merely a lowly huntsman. But naught would know, what with my fine attire and mask which hides my true face."

He pulls you closer to him. "I believe I have for myself a most comely and graceful bird, however."

He lowers his lips to your ear. "And I do not intend to part with my quarry until she disappears into a fit of white feathers, leaving me heartbroken and yearning once more."

You grin, shaking your head in amusement. "Do most ladies usually fall for such an act?"

He shrugs, glancing around the room. "I've yet to hear a complaint in regards to my...chivalrous nature. I do so love to tend to damsels in distress."

You stare up into his jewel-hued eyes, while he begins to slide his hand lower, and lower...and then the song comes to an end, with a room full of people clapping in appreciation.

You break from him, taking a step back, and he bows to you.

You renege on your resolve to remain indoors for the rest of the evening then, deigning that you need air. This room is far too cramped—too hot, and too busy.

You go to walk past the unnamed gentleman before you, until he lightly grasps your fingertips.

"Shall I escort you outside, my swan maiden?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Can...can I trust you?"

He takes a step closer, resting a palm against your upper-arm, growing quite serious. "I would never harm a woman. Nothing occurs between us tonight that you do not wish. I give you my word. I want only those who want me in return."

You fill with relief then, and you nod.

The two of you are silent as you walk through grand gardens, your arm draped over his, occasionally passing giggling girls, or pairs of lords and ladies too enamored with each other to notice either of you.

He glances ahead, toward the seemingly endless expanse of greenery that lies before you. "Shall we?"

You waver. "I've never gone through one before."

"There's a trick to it. You needn't worry: once you're ready to leave, I'll guide you out."

You consider.

You know you most likely shouldn't. That you should turn around and go back inside instead.

But with masks on—with the two of you having no bloody idea who the other is—what would it truly matter if something more is...shared in private corners with only marble statues to bear witness?

You take a small step forward, he following along beside you.

You know you've reached the middle when a large bubbling fountain comes into view—polished wooden benches on either side, and statues of cherubs and women draped in gossamer in each corner.

You break from him, kicking your shoes off your aching feet, and you pick up your skirts as you climb up the stone ledge of the fountain before stepping into the cool water.

Meanwhile, your escort for the evening watches with a wide smile. "Well, you are certainly not a Targaryen princess. That much has been confirmed."

Your lip twitches while you gaze into the distance with a knowing look.

"I told you: I am a swan. We are naturally drawn to water, after all."

He nods. "Ah, yes, how foolish of me."

He cocks his head to the side, and you sway from side to side in interest.

"Have you ever considered allowing those perfect feathers to be ruffled, my little swan maiden?"

You look him over briefly before stepping out, dropping your skirts, and merrily hopping down.

And for the first time in all your life, you throw propriety and decorum to the wind.

"Kiss me."

He smirks, most pleasantly surprised. "Are you sure?"

You take a step closer, fisting his doublet in your hand.

"Kiss me," you repeat.

He leans down, cradling the back of your head while his other hand cups your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours.

And your heart explodes like fireworks in the air.

A kiss. Your first kiss. And on your own terms—by your own deciding.

And as his soft lips move gently against your own, you determine that it is perfect, and everything you've ever dreamt it should be.

He flicks his tongue against yours and you still.

And he pulls back, but only slightly.

"It's alright. You may as well, if you like," he says, encouraging you gently, before giving himself to you once more.

And so you do.

Your tongue dances with his, just as your body had in that marvelous hall, your desire deepening in your core as he kisses past your lips, down your chin, to your neck.

Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh quietly as he slides his hands up your back, holding you impossibly close.

He presses his lips firmly up a hot trail all the way to your ear. "Would you like for me to go further?"

Slowly, your eyes open. "How?"

He smirks slightly. "There are other lips I might pleasure on your body."

You jerky slightly. "I don't—"

He gazes down, into your eyes, the moon casting his red-gold curls in a silver glow. "It is just the two of us. I wish for tonight to be all you want it to."

He kisses you again. "Let me touch you. I beg of you."

He kisses your neck again, mumbling against it, "Let me please you. End my agony, My Lady."

You remain silent—for a long while—he continuing to kiss and tease with delicate flicks of his tongue against your hot, flushed skin.

You shouldn't, but Gods how you want to.

"What if...someone happens upon us—sees?"

He looks at you once more, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "Then they are welcome to spectate."

You frown at him.

"I've excellent hearing," he assures you. "No one will catch us. And if they do, it is not as if any would have an idea of who either of us are. Most importantly you."

Your heart pounds between your breasts while another pulse, which began long ago between your legs due to his experienced lips and hands and words, grows in fervor.

You know your mother would be most disappointed—heartbroken—but all your life you've let yourself be locked in a pretty gilded cage because others have willed it so.

Tonight, you spread your wings.

"Yes."

He sits upon the ledge of the fountain while you sit in his lap with your skirts bunched up around your waist.

He'd refused to look between your legs—telling you that he refuses to 'spoil the surprise' for himself, and it was only then that you finally understood his earlier comment about discovering your true identity in other ways.

You keep one arm wrapped around his neck while you cup his cheek in your other hand—his free arm holding your waist as the two of you kiss passionately while his fingers tease the sensitive pearl between your thighs.

You jerk and whimper and sigh contentedly while his tongue explores your mouth—his fingers exploring elsewhere—as you hum in contentment.

"Gods," you whisper. "Is it always like this?"

"What might that be, sweetling?" He asks between breaths—for his heart does pound as his cock strains against his trousers.

"So...wonderful. Warm and passionate and—oh, Gods."

You ease your head back, biting your lower lip, holding desperately to him.

He circles and circles that bundle of nerves with slick digits, desperate to see you come undone in his arms.

"Only if the man is a very good lover," he answers with a grin that you do not see.

"My body feels as if every inch of me is on fire."

"Perhaps," he grunts—his fingers slipping between your hot folds. "You should cool yourself by unlacing your bodice."

Your eyes meet his—your lips swollen and red and your face flushed as you reach behind you without second thought—tugging with desperation against the strings which bind you.

And then you pull down the top of your dress, exposing your perfect, round breasts to him, and he dives forward, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

Your jaw falls slightly open at the feeling—at the overwhelming sensation of all of it. Of him.

You feel your body tightening, your thighs attempting to close as you grow ever-closer.

"I'm nearly—"

He kisses between your breasts before crushing his lips to yours. "There you are, darling, show yourself to me. Allow me to see it. Let me watch you."

You press your forehead to his, cupping the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You lift your hips, desperate to find your peak.

"Yes, Gods, please—"

He strums ever-faster, like a musician playing the most delectable of tunes upon his lute, and then you shatter.

You whimper and moan and cry softly as you press numerous open-mouthed kisses to his lips, his hand sliding up and into your hair while he chuckles in satisfaction.

"Gods, you are magnificent, aren't you? An astounding spectacle to behold, My Lady."

Eventually, his hand begins to slow, as do your hearts and breaths as the pair of you calm.

Once he has aided you in situating your gown once more, you rub your palm against your opposing arm nervously. "I should...perhaps say thank you?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "The pleasure was all mine, my Lady Swan."

He steps closer, nodding slightly, shrugging as he settles his arms behind his back. "But, if you wish to repay me, we could come to an agreement."

"Agreement?" You ask with uncertainty.

He cups your cheek. "Come the stroke of midnight, we reveal our true identities to one another."

He presses his lips to yours once more. "I must know who you are. Who it is which I've held in my arms all night. Who it is that I've had the pleasure of pleasing by mine own hand."

You chew your lip nervously. "How...how do I know that by morn all will not know? If anyone discovered—"

He lowers himself onto one knee then and your eyes grow wide. "What're you—"

He takes your hand into his. "I make you this solemn vow, My Lady: I will guard the secret which is your identity with all that I am. That this night—our brief love story—shall follow me to my grave. None shall know, I assure you. You've my word. And my word is my bond."

He is absolutely ridiculous, but you smile nevertheless. "You may be in for quite the surprise when I remove my mask."

He rises again, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I assume I most certainly will when my lady turns into a swan and flies away home, leaving me adrift."

You snort, shaking your head, soft curls falling over your shoulder. "Are you always like this?"

He smirks. "Only if I can help it."

The two of you listen as the bell tower tolls loudly for all to hear—signaling the end of the most perfect day you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and the beginning of a new.

He reaches up, clasping a hand over the front of his mask, reaching around to the back of it.

"Stop."

He stills.

You come toward him, taking his hands within your own, lacing your fingers together. "Before...before we reveal ourselves, I need you to know what this night has meant to me."

You run your fingers gently through his hair before taking his hand within your own again. "My entire life I've strived to be perfect in every way I possibly can. Because I have to be—I've no other choice. Until tonight. Until meeting you, and allowing myself to, for once, be impulsive. Mayhaps even a tad reckless. And I've never felt happier. More...myself. So, one day, when I am wed to a stranger and shipped off to an even stranger land among strange people, I will have this night to hold onto."

You stand on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I have you to thank for that. So...thank you," you whisper.

He threads his fingers in your hair. "You're most welcome."

"One," he says.

"Two," you continue.

"Three," you each whisper in unison.

He is as handsome as you'd expected him to be—his skin unblemished—small red freckles littered across his fair complexion that is complete with high cheekbones and well-groomed brows.

He crosses his arms, his lip twitching as he nods to you. "Now the wig."

You laugh nervously.

He takes a step forward. "Is it terribly difficult to remove? I would not be surprised, it's excellently made."

You giggle. "It's real, I'm afraid."

You reach up then, tugging against silver strands, before settling your clasped hands against your stomach once again.

His smile immediately fades, the light going from his eyes—all indication of his mischievous nature fleeing him in an instant.

"You—You mean to say—" He swallows thickly. "You are a daughter of the King? One of the Targaryen princesses?"

You nod slowly, coming toward him.

"Oh Gods, what the fuck have I done?"

You shake your head, your eyes growing wide as you quickly take one of his hands again. "It's alright, shh, it's alright, look at me."

You cup his cheek, turning his gaze back to you. "No one will know about tonight—what occurred between us. You needn't worry for your safety; your wellbeing. Just as we agreed: this remains solely between you and I. I would never betray your confidence. Not after what you've given me—how much it means to me in my heart of hearts."

His expression morphs into incredulity.

"You've no fucking idea what we've done!" He shouts, causing you to flinch in fear.

He rips his hand from your grip, stepping away, running his hands down his face.

He doubles over, planting his hands atop his knees as he draws in shallow breaths.

"I don't...I don't understand," you say quietly, tears stinging your eyes.

You take a small step closer. "Please, don't ruin this. I beg of you. Please."

Finally, he stands, wrapping an arm around himself while resting his opposite elbow atop it, cradling his chin in his hand as he stares at you, as if he is contemplating some impossibly important matter within his mind.

And then his arms flail out from his sides, palms slapping against his trousers.

"Well," he says, gesturing to you. "Since I now know your true identity, I suppose it is time I reveal mine own."

You remain silent as he takes a step closer, and then another and another, until only an arm's-width worth of space remains between the pair of you.

"My name is Gwayne."

Your body twitches.

It can't be...

"Hightower," he finishes. "Your uncle."

Your eyes grow impossibly wide as you stare at him, your face growing as red as a freshly-plucked cherry, your body that had felt alight, as if from dragonfire, just a handful of moments ago growing cold.

And then you bury your face in your hands groaning in irritation.

"Pleasure to meet you, niece," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your lower your hands, tears shimmering in your eyes. "I don't care."

He raises a brow, hands planted firmly upon his hips. "I beg your pardon?" He asks with furrowed brows.

"I care not if you are my uncle," you proclaim. "It makes no difference. Not to me."

He lets out a silent curse, shaking his head.

"Of course you wouldn't. Being," he waves his hand along the length of your body. "What you are—a Targaryen. But things are not...done this way among those like I. Even if..."

He rolls his eyes, searching for the right words.

"I dishonored you. Do you've any idea what we just did?"

"Nothing I did not desire," you reply, holding your chin high.

"Nothing you did not..." he says quietly, trailing off. "Your mother will have my fucking head for this."

"Apologies," he quickly mutters. "Such words are not fit for your ears."

You cross your arms in irritation. "Well, I don't intend on telling her, and I seriously doubt you do either unless you wish to meet the executioner's block."

He seats himself upon the edge of the fountain again.

"I'm...I'm glad it was with you."

He gives you a look of disbelief.

"I am," you state, stepping closer, then seating yourself beside him. "I would rather my first intimate experience have been with mine own uncle—my blood—than some stranger who...who I cannot truly trust. But you, I do."

You cup his cheek, but he bats your hand away, so you then rest it upon his knee, rubbing your thumb soothingly against it.

"I do not regret it. I wish you would not either."

"You are my niece," he reiterates, as if you cannot possibly understand that yourself. "A royal princess, the King's—"

You stand. "I know very well what I am! I need not for you to remind me, as everyone else, including your sister—my mother—has most-assuredly done as such repeatedly since the day I was born! I have a mind of my own, you know?"

He looks up to you then.

"I am capable of thinking for myself. Of...of wanting what I want. I am not some empty-headed doll, despite what everyone else around me clearly thinks when they look at me."

His eyes trail along your body, your gown, before he bobs his head to the side, indicating you should seat yourself again.

And so you do.

"I am meant to take you back to Oldtown with me. To spend weeks at your side. How...how can we be expected to keep one another's company with this hanging between us now?"

You shrug, lightly swinging your feet. "We just do, I suppose."

He hangs his head between his shoulders, his hands clasped between his spread knees.

"My own niece," he mutters quietly.

You stare at the back of his head.

"At least my uncle is a very good lover," you remark, causing his head to shoot up, and you quickly blush.

He shakes his head. "Gods, what have I gotten myself into?"

He plants a palm atop his thigh, leaning back as he stares into your violet eyes. "Was that truly your first experience, or—"

"Do you take me for some trollop?" You exclaim.

He falters. "Forgive me."

"Yes, you were my first. My first kiss, my first...what you did between my legs."

He sighs. "If I had been anyone else—the wrong man—do you've any idea what could've happened to you? Blackmail, for instance. Some power-hungry fourth-born son would not hesitate to threaten ruining your reputation until you gave him...more."

You stare ahead at a marble statue which silently judges you from afar. "Well, that's not what happened here. So I needn't worry."

"Fortunate for you," he grumbles.

Finally, he stands with a sigh, offering you his hand. "Come, I'll escort you back to your chambers. Come the morn, we depart for Oldtown. We each need our rest."

You blink at him for a moment, then resign yourself.

You slide your palm against his and he helps you down before taking your hand and wrapping your arm around his own.

"I think I would've preferred you be a swan now," he says, the corner of his feline lips twitching in jest.

He glances to you.

"I suppose my huntsman nevertheless caught his prey."

He grins. "What a prize it is."

You rest your cheek against the crown of his shoulder.

Your uncle’s retinue makes a midday stop near a riverbank to break for lunch and water the horses.

You take for yourself a bit of meat and fruit to feast upon, and settle yourself back against a large oak tree as you enjoy the day—colorful birds flitting through the air and singing to one another while small fish jump, breaking the surface of the water before plopping back in.

Once you’ve filled yourself, you remove your shoes, gather your skirts, and decide to wade for awhile.

And it is in such a state that Gwayne finds you as he seats himself upon a small boulder, watching you with a smirk playing upon his lips.

“I see this is repeat behavior,” he calls to you.

You whirl around, silver curls falling over your shoulders as you fight back a smile.

You step up, onto the bank. “You could always join me?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, looking at you from under his lashes. “I would say not, considering what sort of…position that placed the pair of us in last time.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I thought you said we were not to speak of it?”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “So I did. Forgive me.”

He retrieves your shoes then, holding them up with a raised brow.

And then you shake your head, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips as you enter the water once again…and splash him.

He stands. “Young lady!”

You giggle. “You sound just like mother. Gods, the two of you are just alike!”

He rests his hands upon his hips with a raised brow. “I resent that insinuation. I am the fun one.”

You splash him again. “Are you?”

He shakes his head, then doubles over, tugging off his boots, rolling up his pant legs, and he promptly marches himself into the river.

You do not get to splash him a third time as he throws you over his shoulder, carrying you out.

“Ah! Let me down!” You say between all-consuming laughter.

“Certainly,” he says, seating you upon the very rock he’d previously occupied.

You frown at him.

“I’ll simply get back in,” you say, attempting to stand.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he replies, gripping your hips, holding you in-place.

You stare at him, your cheeks warming.

He kneels then, tugging his tunic from his trousers.

Your brows furrow, but for only a moment as he begins wiping your feet dry with the hem of it, staring into your eyes all the while before slipping your shoes back onto your feet with a wink.

The carriage stops and the door swiftly opens as your uncle climbs inside, attempting to escape the sudden downpour.

He slams the door behind him, slamming his fist against the roof, and the wooden wheels begin to roll once more.

You smile warmly at him before gazing back out the window, enjoying the smell of rain upon damp earth.

Until you are unsettled by the feeling of a pair of eyes consistently resting upon you.

You turn back to Gwayne with a nervous smile. “What?”

He merely shrugs. “Nothing. May I not look upon beautiful things?”

A grin crawls across your lips and you lightly shake your head.

“You’re blushing.”

You clear your throat, adjusting your skirt. “It’s very warm in here.”

He hums in response. “Is it? Hm, I thought it was a bit cold. I’d considered that, perhaps, I might keep you warm. It would be a great travesty for my darling niece to catch cold while under my protection, would it not? And so early in her trip, at that.”

You grow quiet then, returning to staring out the window. “I feel perfectly well.”

Finally, he sighs, seating himself beside you.

“What’re—”

He interrupts. “How much longer do we need continue with this pretense?”

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry?”

He turns more toward you, resting an arm behind you. “Ignoring this secret which lay between us.”

You scoff. “It just—it only just happened a few days ago. And you were the one who suggested we…we not speak of it. You suggested the pretense.”

“Yes, well, mayhaps I’ve now changed my mind.”

You throw your head back, groaning as you stare up at the roof. “What would you suggest, then? We write to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms and inform them of our dalliance?”

“Perhaps we just allow ourselves a bit of indulgence, just as we did that night.”

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “Indulgence?”

He nods, his lip twitching. “Mm, so as to keep our mutual…frustrations at bay. We merely need come to an understanding, I suppose.”

You blink at him, your body growing warm all over at the way he looks at you. “What…do you have in mind?”

You cannot seriously be considering this.

He can’t.

Gods, what has gotten into you since that night at Highgarden? This isn’t like you. Or…mayhaps it is. Just a version of yourself you’ve never had a chance to become familiar with, due to always being forced to bury any form of behavior which is not ‘appropriate’ to court, thus all you know how to be is a pretty, singing bird. A comely talking doll.

He reaches up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. “Nothing more than…courtly romance. All very prim and proper, for your sake, of course—I know how precious your virtue is—just enough to titillate,” he says, leaning in with a grin, gently pressing his lips to your own.

You kiss him back for a moment—nearly losing yourself to the sensation before you pull back. “I believe you mean to corrupt me.”

He snorts, resting a hand over his heart, feigning at being offended. “Me? I am the very image of a perfect, chivalrous knight.”

You do not smile at the jest.

He sighs, growing serious, taking one of your hands within his own, brushing his thumb along your knuckles.

“I fancy you. I cannot…move past that evening. How we met. Who I initially thought you to be. I know you are my niece. I do. I just…instead choose to see you as a comely young woman who brings me joy. And I merely wish to return the favor and the feelings you stir within me.”

His eyes flit to yours. “Will you allow me that opportunity? So as to make your visit more enjoyable? For the both of us?”

You glance down to his hand. “What am I to you? Some toy for you to play with in your idle boredom between political dealings?”

He shakes his head, scooting impossibly closer to you, tipping your chin up with the tip of his forefinger. “No. You are my niece. My family. My blood.”

He pauses. “My princess. But also a woman who takes my breath away. Who, despite my absolute best efforts, I cannot manage to get out of my fucking head. All I do is want for you.”

He releases your hand, raising his own—palm facing toward you. “Tell me you do not feel the same in the least, and this conversation ends here. We will speak no further of it. You have my word.”

You remain silent, merely staring back at him with an uneasy expression.

He sighs. "You think me trying to take advantage of you."

"How else am I supposed to see this situation?"

"Did you not do the same to me the night we met? You wished for an evening to be someone else, and you utilized me to accomplish that end."

You shift uncomfortably, filling with guilt, until he caresses your cheek.

"I am not faulting you for it. I am merely saying… You are not the only one who is lonely."

You scoff sarcastically.

"I know." He slides his hand down your arm then.

"It is not as if I have any shortage of female suitors. But… They, like with your own, see me for what I am. Not whom. A man of a great house, son of the Hand of the King, brother to the queen, a gallant knight who has won many a joust, a future statesman. The list rows on.

"But when I am with you… For the first time in all my life, I am merely Gwayne. Mayhaps uncle as well, but that is it. A familial bond is far more meaningful to me than a title bestowed upon me in an attempt to garner glory and notoriety."

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "Do I not make you feel the same? Do I not make you forget what you are, while instead reminding you of who?"

Your eyes flit between each of his—guilt settling into the pit of your stomach.

Who is to say you are not instead the one to blame here? Your mother raised you devotedly in the light of the Seven. And you have shirked your Gods for what? Continued dishonourment of yourself and they?

You are going to burn the Seven Hells for this.

Your chin wobbles and then you break into a fit of sobs, covering your face with your hands. "I have disappointed the Maiden. I've betrayed the Gods!"

Gwayne sighs, softly shaking his head. Truly your mother's child, he now sees quite plainly.

He wraps his arms around you then, pulling you to his chest while he presses a kiss to your hair.

"I believe in the Gods and pray to them myself. But, let me ask you something: in all your life of confiding in them, have they ever granted you that which you most desire? That which will bring you joy, and save you from your solitude and woe? Or, have they, instead, remained silent pillars of stone?

"Who is to say that this—what we've found—each other, is not a gift from them? It is said they work in mysterious ways. Mayhaps this is their answer to your prayers and mine own: bringing the two of us together in such a manner."

“So help me Gods, Alicent. You will either give her to me to take to wife, or I will take her from you.”

She swings round rapidly, coming back toward her brother with fire in her eyes. “You dare threaten me—your sister—your queen? The queen? I could have the King's Justice take your head for this!”

He scoffs, settling his hands on his hips while he shakes his head in exasperation.

“Yes, you do that,” he replies sarcastically. “And then where will that leave her? Ruined—dishonored—with our child born a bastard. That stain will never wash out, no matter how hard you may try and scrub it from the memory of our house.”

She grows quiet as her shoulders steadily rise and fall while she attempts to calm the pounding of her heart as she considers.

Gwayne continues. “Please, sister, I beg of you. I adore her. I worship her. Let me make this right. Allow us to wed so none may know. I know… I know it is uncommon for those like you and I to marry our own family, but not her. Please.”

She walks around to the settee that's situated across from where Gwayne stands, and she grips the back of it tightly before speaking. “I sent her to that ball because she all but begged me to let her go. And I allowed her to journey with you to Oldtown afterward because I desired for her to finally meet you, and to see her brother again; to see the place where I was born. And this was what was taking place all the while?”

Gwayne seats himself, folding his hands before him as he hunches forward. “What must I do to make you agree? I will pay any figurative price you ask, will beg the Gods for penance if you wish. Your Grace, you have me at your mercy. I do what I do for the good of her: the young woman I love. Do you not think it better she wed me, as opposed to some elderly stranger? Tell me, how content are you with Viserys?”

Alicent flinches, but does not speak before sighing in resignation. “It seems you've left me no other choice, and I think you know it. The wedding will be carried out without delay. None may know the child was conceived out of wedlock.”

Gwayne breathes a sigh of relief—all thoughts of his head rolling off of the executioner's block leaving him in an instant.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he replies quietly.

a/n: all i've provided here simply serve as various scene ideas for this fic, which i intend to one day turn into a multi-chapter story.

#gifset: gwayne hightower (the fox & the flower)#gwayne hightower x y/n #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower imagine #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you

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atangledfate · 5 months ago

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Truthfully she'd keep Poppy away from as much royal affairs as she could. But as her consort there were many things she would be responsible for as well. Especially the Balls and Banquets were unavoidable, and there was much she would have to learn. But she was confident she'd handle it with dignity and grace. Her smile only brightened at Poppys affirmation to protect her. She could handle that herself but it was that willingness to do so that made her smile all the same.

" Yes well, i am sure we can discuss such affairs in the future. None of that will be prudent anytime soon. It will be some time before we are ready to make the announcement. I'd like to give you and Lilly time to adjust... Sol is a very different world i am sure "

She gave Poppys hands another gentle squeeze before releasing them finally.

" As for protecting me... Thank you... but let us hope trouble of that nature never comes to our doors. "

She sighed her ears folding to the side as she wished to tell Poppy more of her mother. There strained relationship, and explain why she had to leave so quickly. It was not however a story for now, not with Lilliana listening over her shoulder not to far away. She'd talk to her about it soon though.

" Do not worry about mother... I know she means well. As I said there is much we must talk about later. For now though, i think it is best if you and Lilly return to the Palace with Gardon. "

She smiled at Poppy looking to the silver dust and back again.

" The effect is unimportant, but it served its purpose and was more cautionary then anything else. "

Blaze pulled her robe close about her and looked more tired then ever as she was feeling the effects of the Ceremony now. It was clear to her she needed to sleep, recharge herself and address Lilliana more directly as she was sure the Sheep was fuming right now. She wasn't a bad woman far from it but this was clearly not the way it was meant to go at all. Poppy staying was one thing, but becoming her bride? Lilliana would have some choice words she was sure.

" I must retire for a time, the Ceremony has drained my energy ... its quite taxing. However, would you and Lilly care to join me for dinner tonight? Is much i am sure you wish to speak with me on. Much i must speak with you about as well. "

She turned to Lilliana who was waiting most patiently, though it was hard to read her emotions at the moment.

" Lilliana, i will speak with you as well before i depart. Gardon will you please escort Poppy and Lilly back to the Palace grounds. "

She did kneel down to Lilly and placed her hand on the small ones cheek with a bright smile.

" I promise, no scary soldiers... but would it be ok if i hire you a Nanny? I'll even get your mom to help me pick one, so i'm extra sure you'll get along with them. How about that? "

Gardon had many duties and as much as the old Koala would likely love to spend his days with Lilly. Blaze knew that he had a palace to run so, they would need to hire a proper nanny. For now at least, Gardon was the only choice she had---or perhaps she could ask Amy to do it. She did love children.

The Koala Offered a warm smile to blaze and Poppy he motioned for the to follow him.

" If you would ladies... let us leave the Princess to her duties, and i will see you back to the Palace. I suppose i should refer to you as highness now Ma'dam Poppy, though i suspect that would not sit well with you "

he laughed as he pat Lilly on her head like a loving grandpa

" and perhaps princess Lilly--- it does have a distinct ring doesn't it "

He jested with the two ladies as he lead them back down the long path to the palace. Blaze's eyes never left poppys as she left either. Her smile was so warm and full of life, she almost looked sad to see Poppy go. Yet she turned to face Lilliana--- her duties yet awaited.

Poppy was a bit thrown back when Blaze took her hand, making her blush rather deeply hearing her words. "Aw, geez, ya really know how to make a gal feel special." The opossum was certainly easy to fluster at times despite how calm she is most of the time, even with heavier subjects.

"If ya mean all the royal business then I'm sure I can handle it. I mean, I know I ain't too smart, though I should be good following your lead on things." Poppy may have never been this close to a royal, though they were extremely common in Flora so had heard plenty of stories about what dating one is like Mainly from her sister who joined the royal guard in the Feline Country.

"And if anyone wants to try and mess with me, I'll just punch their lights out." Poppy was no slouch in the strength department so doubt any wannabe trying to pick a fight with her to get to Blaze wasn't going to work out very well for them. Helps magic doesn't work on her.

"Still didn't like the way she talked to ya, though I guess you know her better than me." Poppy wasn't going to push the subject if Blaze seemed fine, and she knew it was just her short temper getting the better of her a little bit. "Hoped my anti-magic didn't cause any problems. Zero idea what that silver dust stuff did, though if it helps then it helps." The opossum might want to check up on it later.

"Sounds good to me, just as long as we get someone to look after Lily." Poppy was fine going back just to get her stuff, though would rather have Lily stay here where she knew it was safe. The opossum knew just how easy it was to run into someone who could hurt any opossum at the drop of a hat just to be a jerk. She was also just completely ignoring the fact everyone was staring at her now.

"If it's okay with Mr. Gardon I'd be fine with him watching me. The guards are kinda scary looking." Lily was fine with them when she was with her mom, though not so much when she seems them passing by and she's by herself. "Maybe we can play tag again."

#Daughter of Flame #Blaze #Strong and Motherly #Poppy #Hyper Curiosity #Lilly #Royal Caretaker #Gardon

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cursed-elo-images · 2 years ago

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I’ve listened to the song I tagged in my recent post.

If anybody sees this post and hasn’t seen the post I’m referring to, and has NO idea what I’m talking about, I drew something cursed you can find on my blog and the song I’m referring to is “Confusion” by of course ELO.

It’s not one of my most favorites, but it’s a really good one.

Well, I think I just ruined the song for myself. (half jokingly)

While I said the above phrase in jest, there is some truth to it.

But first, I must mention my backstory.

The Backstory of the One and Only, cursed-elo-images Herself

My relationship with ELO started in March 2020. This was right before lockdown, and a parent of mine showed me a copy of ELO’s “greatest hits all over the world” CD, and we decided to play it in the car. I did like them, but I didn’t really listen to them much that month (really just a little bit of Elton John and some David Bowie too who are also good), but I decided to in April that month. I fell in love with them. I did however discover them in 2018 but didn’t feel like trying them out since I wasn’t into classic rock during that time besides Queen, since I listened to a few vocaloid songs. I also had “Don’t Bring Me Down” stuck in my head in late 2019, for some strange reason, but again didn’t feel like trying them out at the time, since I just liked Queen then. (Also a very good band, and I should also mention I stopped liking vocaloid music in early 2019 and Queen was what brought me back to classic rock)

Since then, I’ve listened to this band a lot, usually during the spring-summer because those seasons I find “enhance” the experience, I suppose it’s to invoke the nostalgia I felt when they first touched the neurons in my ear canals. I have went on a hiatus in 2021 though, because I temporarily replaced them with British rock band Sweet, which are arguably MORE underrated than them, but came back to ELO since… not to slander Sweet but, ELO is just more interesting and sensorily pleasing. I wasn’t really interested in the members, just the music. This lasted from 2020 to March this year. I did try to memorize the members of the band last year, but again I wasn’t really into the fandom, I just liked them as background music/shoving their music into my ears whenever I feel like it, which was a lot, but not on the same level as me immersed in David Bowie’s many personas and the fandom side of THAT.

I don’t know what got me interested in drawing ELO members or reading fandom posts about them, but here I am. I love being this way, and it gives me more people to be interested in so I take this as a win. They just have that adorkable charm to them.

Why I’m Obsessing over ELO’s Confusion

Now the context is out of the way, let’s discuss why I’m obsessing over their “Confusion” song. Like I previously mentioned, I liked the song to listen to sometimes, and to use as background music. Yes, even when I was blissfully unaware of the members and the fandom, and the future that was to come of me drawing the most bizarro cursed nonsense shlock (affectionate) regarding the band. It’s a nice song, detailing the (in my interpretation, yours might differ) confusion, shock, and sadness one feels after breaking up with their significant other. However, I, being the equally cursed weirdo that I am, decided to use that song for the dreaded (affectionate) Melvyn bread train doodle. Why? Because that was the theme of the drawing. Did I need to add the song? No, but I thought it would be funny and look cool. Then when I clicked on the Spotify link I heard a snippet of the song and I unfortunately applied the lyrics to the drawing, implying that the band lost… Melvyn’s… human(?) form and became that cursed abomination (affectionate) and have their feelings about it.

Now, instead of being at peace with their music (specifically Confusion) I am now going to think of that drawing every time I listen to it. Just great (lightheartedly sarcastic).

#personal nonsense #electric light orchestra #elos music is the best fr fr #although i also like queen and david bowie too #those three are my top three favorite bands(?)#idk david bowie isnt a band hes an artist #but bowie has been in bands before #like ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars in the early seventies and then tin machine in the late eighties-early nineties #idk if he has been in any other bands those two were just the ones i could think off the top of my head #as those two are his most notable band roles especially his early seventies band #cursed ramblings

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txemrn · 2 years ago

Note

While looking for something, your MC finds an envelope filled with photographs of Ethan's exes, some suggestive. How does she respond?

Hey, Anon! Thank you so, so much for including me on this Ask!

I have a short answer and a long answer.

Short: If Ethan were to have something like this, Tatum knows there's an explanation. She knows better than to get angry or jealous. She might give him a hard time, but all in jest. She trusts that idiot.

Long: I've been chomping at the bits to write something different and new, so I hope you don't mind... I wrote a fic about this. 💜

Summary: While searching for tax documents for Ethan's father, Tatum stumbles across a stash of nude photos. Of Ethan's exes. Tatum's reaction will be one that Ethan will never forget.

Rating/Warning: Mature; language; sexually suggestive content (including nudity, alluding to future lemons; creating pornographic media)

Word Count: 1665 (+/-)

AN: Most of these characters are borrowed from our friends at Pixelberry. This fic is also not preread or beta'd. Please excuse my mistakes!

~🖤~

“I’ll see you and our little one in a month, then,” Dr. Tatum Erikson smiles brightly at her last appointment of the day, escorting her to the front entrance to the building. Watching her patient waddle through the glass doors, Tatum finally lets out an exhausted exhale. As per usual, her clinic schedule ran long today, but the OB/GYN knows her clients appreciate her taking the time to talk and discuss their questions and concerns. Besides, of all days to run long, Friday is the perfect day since the clinic closes at noon.

Quickly heading back to her office to finish up some notations, she decides to touch base with Ethan, who took the day off. She empties the pockets of her white coat before shrugging it off and hanging it up on the back of her office door. She steps out of her violet Manolo pumps as she finally crashes into her chair, stretching out her toes as she checks her phone.

4 Missed calls: Ethan

She furrows her eyebrows in concern. Ethan and Tatum don’t interrupt each other at work unless there’s an emergency. Or, of course, the interruption includes a sweet gesture of sustenance, but never phone calls. Typical Ethan, he didn’t leave any voice messages either, but he did send a text about twenty-five minutes ago.

Call me back ASAP.

He answers on the first ring. “Tate, where are you?”

“Um,” she chuckles to herself, “at the clinic. Where am I supposed to be?”

“Damnit,” Ethan mutters under his breath. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

“Is… is everything okay?”

“No,” he scoffs, “not really.” An awkward silence falls between them, Tatum taken aback by the bite in his tone towards her. “Shit, Tate, I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he sighs, “I came up to help Dad with his taxes, and we’re missing some pretty important documents that he needs to fax over to the bank today.”

“I’m assuming the documents are at home?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, guilt in his voice. “Are you busy?”

“Nope,” Tatum wiggles her feet back into her shoes, “I’m heading home now. Where do I look?”

“In my office. In the second file drawer, there’s a file that is labeled ‘Dad’. Call me when you get it, and I’ll tell you what to look for and where to fax it.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Tatum responds, grabbing her work bag. “I’ll call you in thirty.”

Ethan lets out a relief exhale. “Tate…”

“I know,” she grins knowingly.

—---

The moment Tatum walks through the door, she is eagerly greeted with excited whimpers and wet kisses. Tripping over the eighty-pound fur-baby, the physician slings her bag on the entry-way table before giving her four-legged friend some much needed attention.

She squats, taking his fluffy blond head in her arms to scratch behind his ears. “Who’s my big boy?” She repeats the question, her voice becoming more high-pitched like a Disney character. “Have you been a good boy? Huh?” She stands back up, and motions for the dog to follow her. “C’mon, Jen, let’s go help Daddy and Grandpa.”

Tatum enters the office and goes straight to Ethan’s black filing cabinet. She clicks her tongue, “Let’s see,” she talks to herself, “did he say the second drawer from the bottom?” With the roaring of metal, she opens that drawer, thumbing through all of the tabs. Luckily everything was alphabetized, so the moment she didn’t see ‘Dad’ under the Ds, she went to shut the cabinet.

Only it wouldn’t close.

“Damnit,” she mutters as she continues to jerk on the handle. “Something’s… in… the way.” She steps back, taking a deep breath as she looks over at Jenner. “Are you not going to help me?” She teases as Jenner lays down, covering his nose with his paw.

Tatum gets on her knees to look and see what had fallen in the way of the drawer tracks and if she could easily correct it. Sure enough, she sees an old, manila envelope with a string-closer in the very back of the drawer. It was pinned between this drawer and the one above it. She begins pulling on the envelope, its contents crunching as it wrinkles.

Hopefully this wasn’t important, she cringes jokingly. It finally comes loose, and she tosses the folder to the side as she shuts the drawer.

She stands up, straightening out her black pencil skirt before trying the other drawers. But not before her phone rings.

"Did you find it?"

"Not yet," Tatum puts the phone on speaker before returning to pull on a handle. "It wasn't there–"

"The second drawer?"

"Oh," she giggles to herself. "I… um…"

"... you looked in the wrong drawer, didn't you?"

"I mean…" Tatum innocently stammers.

Ethan exhales into a snicker. "You're lucky that you're cute."

Tatum finds the correct folder, and Ethan walks her through picking out the correct documents and faxing them to his location. Relieved, both Ethan and Alan express their gratitude to Tatum as they get back to work on the tax paperwork.

After hanging up the phone, she returns the folder before turning to Jenner. "Strong work, sweet boy," she smirks.

She prepares to leave, but out of the corner of her eye, she sees the envelope that she threw onto the floor. Unfortunately the crunched up edges are now torn and the contents have spilled out. She squats to pick up the papers, but then she freezes. They were photographs.

Nude photographs. Naked women baring their assets and touching themselves in the most provocative of ways.

Oh my God, Tatum thinks as she shuffles through the photos. Is this Ethan's porn stash? For a brief moment, Tatum snickers at each picture, tilting her head and questioning the poses. But then she comes to a picture of a woman that instantly wipes the grin off her face, a woman she is very familiar with.

Casey Valentine

This isn't just porn; these are Ethan's exes. But why did he have their nudes?

Surely there was a logical explanation for this. Tatum trusts Ethan. Period. He has told her time and time again how much he adores her, adores her body–yes, even her mature body. She watches him shudder when he barely touches her, when he barely gets a view of her forbidden skin.

He doesn't need those photos.

So again, why have them?

Ethan arrives home well after 10PM. "Tate?" He calls out as he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up in the coat closet. He raises his voice. "Tate? You home, babe?"

He bounds into the living room. And freezes. And swallows hard.

Tatum has made herself comfortable in Ethan's leather chair. Her blonde tresses are curled into careless waves as her pout adorns a crimson red, accented by the pearly white of her teeth biting her lip. She's wearing one of his favorite dress shirts, unbuttoned to her navel. And with her long, toned legs crossed, she ensures he can see his favorite pair of patent leather stilettos.

He licks his lips, his eyes beginning to smolder. "What's this about?"

She purrs quietly. "I don't know," she teases. "Why don't you tell me what this is about?" She puts her heel on the torn manila envelope that's resting on the coffee table and extends her leg, shoving the folder closer to him.

Ethan immediately recognizes the ratty old folder, a sweltering shade of red crawling up his neck.

"Tatum," he holds up his hands defensively, "it's not what you think."

She uncrosses her legs, revealing her lack of panties. "Then tell me: what is this?"

Ethan stifles a groan, not wanting to tear his eyes away from her smooth pink skin. "They’re.." he clears his throat, "they're personal pictures that I wanted to destroy privately and respectfully. I just… haven't yet–but I don't look at them. I swear." He hurriedly steps closer to Tatum. Taking a knew, he grabs her hand, peppering her soft palm with kisses before cradling it to his face.

She nudges the envelope towards him. "Open it up."

He looks up, shocked. "Tate, I–"

"Now," she commands.

Ethan fixes a glare to Tatum as he unties the folder string. Once open, he tries to hand her the file.

Tatum shakes her head. "Look at them."

"Tate, come on–"

"Now," she growls. She watches as he fishes out the pictures, his throat bobbing as beads of sweat gather on his brow

But then Ethan stops. He does a double-take. The corner of his mouth begins to turn up, his breath growing ragged. He shuffles through the photos, every single one of them newly taken and newly printed.

With a new subject.

"My naughty girl…" he whispers, heat sparking from his words as he drops the crisp, new pictures on the coffee table. He hastily stands Tatum up from the loveseat, wrapping his arms tightly around her body as he nuzzles his warm mouth into her neck.

"You know I trust you, Rams," Tatum softly speaks into his ear, lovingly scratching circles on his broad upper back. "Oh, and don't worry. I took those other photos and–"

"Fuck those other photos," he seductively hisses, pressing his erection into Tatum, making her gasp as he nips at her collar bone. His hands slowly travel down the covered curves of her body until he grips the material being held together by buttons. "I need to see more–" he yanks the shirt open, popping the rest of the buttons off of the fabric, letting them rain onto the hardwood floor. Ethan pulls the rest of the shirt off of Tatum’s voluptuous body, instantly pawing at her exposed skin. Their hungry mouths meet, their tongues teasing one another breathlessly.

Tatum pulls her lips away. "Grab the camera," she pants as his mouth remains insistent on kissing her, "let me show you more."

Ethan gives her a mischievous glare, and without warning, he picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder. He gives the rounded swell of her bare ass a swift spank as he grabs the camera and hurries her into the bedroom.

"Now, where's the record button?"

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPEN HEART

@burnsoslow @ohchoices @thegreentwin

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #you asked #choices open heart #choices fanfic #choices oph #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x f!oc #ethan x f!oc #ethan x tatum #ethan ramsey x tatum erikson

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Text

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh.

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n. I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

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therivergirl · 3 years ago

Text

Conversations at the CATS Hideout, chapter 1

King already slept on the bed, occasionally stirring, but his dreams seemed to be peaceful.

Lilith and Hooty slept on the floor and they seemed comfortable, so, aside from Eda throwing a blanket over them, nobody thought it was necessary to move them.

Former BATTS led Steve to their bedroom, Derwin happily remarking how he is no longer the only guy in the room and earning a glare from Katya and Amber that made certain he was going to regret his remark. They could hear the four laughing about something and they decided to let the young rebels have their fun. They deserved it.

Eber was somewhere outside, as they preferred sleeping under the stars.

This only left Luz, Eda and two mutinous coven heads.

Luz, having taken a break from palisman carving to have dinner, sat on the carpet with a half-empty bowl, absent-mindedly stirring the stew that has already grown cold. She stared at the chunks of vegetables that went round and round as if they held the answers to all the questions in the universe.

Eda was discussing strategy with Raine and Darius, the latter of whom rubbed his temples at half of Eda's suggestions.

"For Titan's sake, how did you escape the Emperor's Coven for over two decades with plans like those?" he sighed.

"Hey, don't knock my methods, they clearly worked! It's all about the execution, baby!"

"Stealing outdated uniforms?" Raine raised an eybrow at her.

"Hey, whose side are you on, Rainestorm?" Eda frowned in offence.

"I'm not picking sides, I just thought that the infamous Owl Lady would at least indulge in the proper heist," Raine teased and the two stared each other in the eyes.

"At least I don't go on heists in my everyday outfit! Come on Rainstorm, that shirt looks good on you, but change it up for when you're a rebel vs a loyal head of the Bard Coven!" she air-quoted the last words, but Raine did not even hear them, their brain stuck on that shirt looks good on you, as they blushed.

"Ugh, enough of you two flirting, we have an emperor to overthrow, you also want to carve a palisman with your apprentice, oh and we only have two days!"

"Oh, relax cape-boy-"

"Please, don't refer to me like that" Darius said tiredly.

"-with all of our head in the game, our skills and allies will figure something out," Eda finished her sentence.

"Um, Eda, speaking of your apprentice," Raine nudged her, pointing at Luz.

Ete turned and noticed Luz's glum disposition. She sighed, "I knew that one talk I had with her was too easy, you two work further, I'll go talk to her and try to get her to get some sleep," she said, yawning herself.

"You seem like you could use some sleep too," Raine pointed out.

"Nah, I'm fine, I can go without sleep for a while," she yawned again.

"Eda..." Raine started but was interrupted by Darius.

"Before this turnes into another flirtatious squabble-"

"Hey!" came a unified complain from Eda and Raine.

"-we could all use some sleep. Lilith and the...tube, seriously what is that thing?"

"Hooty. That is Hooty."

"I know his name, but what is he?"

"Hooty," Eda answered again.

"You know what, never mind. My point was, those two have the right idea, we should all have a shut-eye. The two of us are tired as it is, and we need you in a top shape as well, Owl Lady," Darius said genuinely, all the jest gone from his voice.

"There is a reason he wanted to ask for your help as soon as we formed the CATS," Raine said.

"The name..." Darius grumbled.

"Ah, really, didn't know you think so highly of me, cape-boy," Eda joked.

"You two are impossible to deal with! I'm off to get my beauty sleep!" Darius stomped over to one of the bedrooms in the hideout, but not before snapping at the four younger members in the other room to go to sleep. They only continued to laugh, which did not improve Darius' mood.

Raine yawned, "He is right, though,"

"Off to get some beauty sleep too, Rainstorm?" Eda teased.

"Ah, it's already too late for me," they said, blushing.

"Hey, don't knock yourself down already, you still got it," Eda smiled, making Raine's blush grow deeper.

"Heh, right," they stumbled over their words. "I'm off to bed. You and Luz should too."

"Aye, aye captain, as soon as I see what is troubling her. Speaking of we should..."

"In the morning, we'll talk in the morning. Good night, Calamity." Raine said, disappearing behind the same curtain.

"Good night, Raine," Eda said after them then turned her attention back at Luz who was still sitting absent-mindedly in the corner.

She walked over to her kid and sat on the ground, grouching, "Curses, you're growing old Owl Lady," she said with a bitter chuckle, but Luz barely paid her any mind. Eda frowned, looking at her kid. "What's wrong kiddo," she said, startling Luz.

"Oh, Eda. I didn't hear you," she said, "Where are Raine and Darius?"

"Both went to sleep. Something else on your mind? And don't eventry to lie,"

Luz sighed, suddenly looking very sad, "I'm sorry," she said.

"What?" Eda was taken aback, what was Luz apologizing for.

"I got us in trouble, I didn't listen to you, I got us captured. If it weren't for Raine and Darius we would have...you would have..."

"Hey, hey, none of that, ok?" Eda pulled Luz closer to her for the second time that night.

"But-"

"No buts," Eda rubbed circles on Luz's back, "If anyone should apologize it's me,"

"What?" Luz pulled away from the hug, "Why? You did-"

"Nothing wrong?" Eda snorted, "Yeah right. And the ocean on the isles is the perfect temperature for a swim!"

"Eda..."

"Listen, Luz. I should've told you the truth from the start. Or at least before we left to get King's bunny. I'm sorry."

"I know," Luz leaned back on Eda, "But that is not what bothered me the most. It was...the thought of you sending me away." She took a deep breath and Eda wanted to add another apology right away, but she knew Luz had more to say and so she didn't interrupt.

"I just," Luz continues, "Mum wanted to send me to camp. Which, I understand better now, and then I got here and I love it here, but I have no idea when I'll see her again. But I have you, and King, and Lilith and Amity and Willow and Gus and...you guys are what keeps me going, you know. But the idea of you also sending me away, of not having you guys around...it hurt. It hurt even more than thinking you don't think I could do this, though that hurt too. I get you want to protect me, but...I can't lose you too. Not now," she wiped of the tears from her eyes, but new kept coming.

Eda's heart broke and she pulled Luz even closer, stroking her hair, "I'm sorry, kiddo. I really am. I'm sorry I tried to force you to leave, that I even used my harpy form against you. I just..."

"I know, you wanted to keep me and King safe," Luz smiled trough tears, "I get that. Apology accepted."

"Luz," Eda pulled away from the hug for a moment, keeping her hands on Luz's shoulder and looking directly into her eyes, "First of all, it goes without saying but that apology at the beginning, is accepted, not that you had to apologize. And I want you to know, I didn't want to send you away because I think less of you. I think the world of you, ok? I thought less of myself, because I can't keep you overachieving little but safe, and-"

Luz wrapped her arms around Eda's waist in a rib-cracking hug, "Don't say that. You are amazing, Eda. And you keep us safe."

"Yeah, kid," Eda wanted to return the hug but she had to be able to breathe first, "you know, you don't have week noodle arms like you did when you first came here."

"Oh, oops," Luz said, loosening her grip, "Sorry. Anyways, I know what you'll say. We're kids, we shouldn't bother with fights and overthrowing emperors and stuff, but, this isn't an ordinary fight. If this goes bad, it doesn't matter if we are safe somewhere else, we might all be hurt regardless."

"I know. And I'm glad to have you by my side, kid," she yawned again, "Man, I'm sleeping with my eyes open."

"Yeah, I think part of my brain is already asleep..."

"Ugh, I hate to admit but cape-boy is right, we should all get some shut-eye. Come on," Eda got up, gesturing for Luz to follow her.

They went to their room with the tripple bunk bed, King already having taken the bottom bunk.

"Look at that little guy," Eda said, smiling.

"He seems to finally be at peace," Luz added softly. "Um, Eda?"

"Yes?"

"I know they gave us this," she gestured to the bunk bed, "so we would each have our own bed, but, King is always sleeping next to me anyways and...could I sleep next to you tonight?"

Eda smiled warmly, "What, all three of us snuggled on that narrow thing? I mean, I had worse sleeping arrangements in my life..."

"Hmmm, Luz thought for a second, then pulled out a plant glyph and placed it on the floor. She took a deep breath before activating it and, a few moments later what looked like Eda's nest, but smaller and greener, appeared in front of them. "Huh?"

"Wow, you're really something kid," Eda said, impressed, "At least we won't run out of beds any time soon with this new trick, even if we manage to round up more recruits in the next two days."

Luz gently picked up King, who lazily opened one eye, let out a small squeal, and fell back asleep in Luz's arms. Eda grabbed the blankets and sheets from the bunks and arranged them into the nest, "Come on, or I'm hogging the whole thing for myself," she joked, sprawling over the nest.

Luz climbed into the nest, lying down next to Eda, putting King between them.

"No more blankets to serve as a cover?" Luz asked, feeling around the bed of the nest.

"Just one, and I warn you, I'm a blanket hog," Eda snickered, wrapping it around herself.

"Eda!" Luz chided, pulling on the blanket.

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to share the bed! But wait, I have an idea," she focused for a moment and her wings sprouted from her back, "I might end up needing a few vials of elixir if I hold this on for the whole night, but it'll be worth it."

"Eda..." Luz said, her eyes wide.

"Not a word more, sleep now, kid," Eda said as she pulled the girl closer. For a moment it seemed like Luz was about to argue, but instead, she wrapped her arms around King and then snuggled against Eda who proceeded to wrap her wings around both. King, feeling the warmth even in his sleep, let out a satisfied sigh.

"Good night, Eda," Luz mumbled, already drifting off the realm of dreams.

"Good night you two," Eda said, "my babies," she ran her hand through Luz's hair and then patted King's head. Good night to you too, she said to the owl beast, before wrapping her wings even tighter, her harpy form, or at least part of it keeping her kids safe.

There was a long, hard road ahead of them and the future was filled with uncertainties. But for one night, they were safe in her embrace

----

So...this was supposed to be just a short drabble. But, of course, it turned into a whole thing and I might have plans to write a few more conversations.

I know my title is about as creative as drawing a long, straight line, titles are the hardest part of fics for me, so we have to deal with this one.

#the owl house #toh #luz the owl house #eda clawthorne #toh eda #toh king #king the owl house #king clawthorne #eda the owl mom #toh darius #toh raine #bits of reada #fanfiction

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

Text

A Royal Tease

Thorin x fem!reader

Requested: kind of - this was a favor to a very special person!

Warnings: NSFW with an E rating, so please only read if you’re 18+!

A/N: Wowee... that was a ride! Writing smut is definitely NOT the same as reading it :) Let me know how I did it and if I should write more smut in the future. I still feel like it jumps from here to there sometimes, but the longer I worked on it, the worse it got so I decided to stop editing and throw it on here 🙈

Before you start reading, another friendly reminder that English is NOT my first language, so if some sentences feel forced or the vocabulary feels too simple or not descriptive enough, that’s why!

Thorin was lying on his back in the sand, eyes closed and panting heavily.

“Another one!” he growled after a few seconds. “Are you sure you can take another one? Married life sure is taking a toll on ya!” Dwalin teased, getting in his starting position again. He rolled his muscles and Thorin could hear his bones crack. Dwalin was enjoying this far too much.

Thorin might be losing his touch, but Mahal be his witness, he would never admit defeat. He couldn’t give Dwalin the satisfaction. So he pushed himself back up while muttering a line of very colourful words, ready to smack that smirk of his best friend’s face.

These late night sparring sessions with Dwalin were a godsend to get rid of the tension and frustration in his body, but that didn’t mean he would let him off the hook so easily.

Wiping the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand, he walked towards the opposite side of the training field. His tunic clung to his body, dripping with sweat so Thorin decided to take it off.

“What in Durin’s name are those?” Dwalin’s voice boomed across the field.

Thorin immediately held his tunic in front of him, as if he had been caught doing something that he shouldn’t. He completely forgot about them.

“S’none of your business,” he muttered.

“As your personal guard it is my bloody business, Thorin,” Dwalin retorted, making his way towards his King.

“Who gave ya those bruises?”

Thorin stared at his best friend and felt his cheeks flush. He could see Dwalin’s thoughts take a turn for the worst, blaming himself for his King’s injuries. But he couldn’t tell him the truth, could he?

“You were not the one who caused them,” Thorin said in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Then who did?” he pressed on.

“Leave it, Dwalin.”

But Dwalin was quicker and snatched the shirt out of his hands so the bruises were visible.

“Thorin…”

Dwalin’s eyes traveled over the King’s bare chest. His pecs, abs and hips were covered in dark purple bruises, each one of them the size of a gold coin. His eyes landed on the waistband of Thorin’s breeches and it looked like the bruises didn’t stop there.

“I’m supposed to protect ya, Thorin. Who mistreated you like this?”

Thorin kept his eyes focused on Dwalin’s, as if he wanted to have a staring match. Dwalin could see the internal battle his King was fighting, before Thorin broke eye contact and turned around to put his tunic back on.

“They’re Y/N’s alright,” he hissed, without looking at him.

Dwalin stood completely shocked for a few seconds, before he balled his fists and almost bristled in anger.

“Dam or not, she can’t treat ya that way, Thorin,” he said through clenched teeth.

Thorin placed his hands on Dwalin’s shoulders to calm him down.

“No, my friend. No, it’s not like that at all… They happened during…” Thorin took a deep breath and lowered his voice in case someone could overhear. “During our lovemaking.”

Dwalin’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes went wide. But he didn’t back off like Thorin had expected. If any, it peaked his interest.

“She hurts ya for… Pleasure?”

Dwalin’s nose scrunched up, like the thought of someone hurting their One for pleasure was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. Which, in his humble opinion, it most certainly was.

“In her world what happens at night is a lot more... interesting, to give it a name. We’ve been missing out, Dwalin. You can trust me on that.”

“But she hurts ya?” he repeated.

Thorin chuckled. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt one bit. On the contrary...”

They started walking out of the training halls, their sparring session long forgotten.

Thorin knew it might not be appropriate to discuss his love life so openly with his friend, but he was almost certain Y/N wouldn’t mind and he felt relieved he could finally talk to someone about it.

“You don’t know half the things she’s capable of, Dwalin… The way her hands feel when she… Mahal!” Thorin groaned at the memories of your late night activities.

“Easy there, lad,” Dwalin chuckled. “Ya don’t want to ruin those trousers too, aye?”

Thorin shoved him in a playful jest, but the seasoned warrior didn’t even budge. He shook his head, tutting at the poor attempt of his King. “Pathetic.”

While they were walking towards the Royal wing of the mountain, Thorin told his friend about some of the things he learned the last few weeks.

Dwarrows were a bit old fashioned in the bedchambers, or ‘rather prude’ as Y/N had called it, and she helped him discover a different side of himself.

By the time Thorin had told Dwalin about the different positions he definitely should try besides the classic one, they’d reached the heavy double doors of Thorin’s chambers and Dwalin’s cheeks had turned a few shades darker.

Dwalin halted and nodded at the guards posted at each side of the door.

Thorin opened the door and the right corner of his lips twitched. He was still a bit agitated that he couldn’t beat his friend on the grounds but there was always another way to get the upper hand...

“Oh and Dwalin… They use their mouth too.”

“Well I may hope so, it’s hard to kiss without yer lips,” he said, not understanding what Thorin meant.

“Not for kissing, Dwalin. Not only for kissing.”

Thorin closed the door, leaving a speechless and heavily flustered Dwalin in the hallway.

When he turned around with the intention of entering his chambers and relaxing for the night, someone forcefully pressed his back against the door and pulled his face down in a heated kiss.

It only took him a fraction of a second to wrap his arms around his wife and happily return the kiss, not wasting any time with deepening it by swiping her bottom lip with his tongue. He felt her smile against his lips and she broke the kiss.

“Eager, are we?”

“I do recall it was you who couldn’t resist me, ghivashel, you didn’t even let me come in properly,” Thorin chuckled, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around her while he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

In the meantime, her hands started traveling on their own, making their way over his broad shoulders and upper arms, before finally settling on his chest. His tunic was still damp from his earlier activities and left nothing to the imagination. Not that she needed to imagine it, she knew exactly what he was hiding underneath. What was hers…

Y/N smiled. “I can’t greet my husband after a day’s hard work?”

She reached up and caught his lips in another kiss. Thorin hummed softly.

“Aye,” he said, his hands lingering on her back, but he couldn’t resist slowly lowering them towards the delicious curve of her buttocks. He gave them a firm squeeze and pulled her flush against his body.

Y/N could feel someone else greeting her. “Well hello to you both,” she smirked.

Even though she knew Thorin was that kind of dwarf who gets easily aroused - which was incredibly fun during meetings and official visits - he still caught her off guard with how fast his soldier could report for duty.

“We’re at your service, little one,” he said, lowering his voice.

Licking her lips in anticipation, Y/N grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted it upwards. Thorin raised his arms and helped her get the tunic off his body, carelessly tossing it aside. His breathing growing heavy already with the adrenaline still in his body from the earlier workout.

His trousers and undergarments were next, she tugged at the laces and let the fabric pool around his ankles.

She took a few steps back and took the time to admire the view before her. His silver and black hair screaming at her to get her hands in, so she could tug it just the way he liked it. The dark hair dusted across his broad chest, trailing down towards his V line and circling around his member. The bruises her lips left the night before stood out on his skin, proof of her claim on him. Thorin was absolutely stunning. A work of art.

“Like what you see?” he hummed, his voice still a deep rumble, hitting her right in her core. Mahal, bless that voice!

“Always,” she whispered.

When she turned around and started walking away from him, Thorin grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“You’re not going to leave me like this, are you,” he growled.

He knew she was capable of it, she’d done it before. There was nothing his wife liked more than teasing him and leaving him hanging for a while. According to her it was fun, she liked getting him all riled up, but for Thorin it was absolute torture. He wasn’t used to not getting things when he wanted them.

“Easy tiger, I was just going to draw you a bath.”

Thorin sighed deeply when he reclined in the tub, the warm water soothing his aching muscles.

“Feels good?” Y/N smiled, getting a washcloth ready.

He nodded and hummed softly, closing his eyes. His nose filled with the scent of the burning wood from the fire and lavender from the bathwater, and combined with the warm temperature of the water it made him finally relax.

She sat down behind the bathtub and took the bottle of oil for his hair. Y/N brought the opened bottle close to her face, smelling the herbal fragrance. She inhaled it deeply, loving the smell because it reminded her of Thorin. Her husband. Her King.

“I’ll start with your hair.”

She poured a little oil on her hands and rubbed them together to spread it evenly. Her fingers purposefully moved around his scalp, working in small circular motions. He moaned when she added just the right amount of pressure to massage the oil in his hair and again when she started delivering gentle strokes around his ears and neck. With a cup she poured hot water over his hair to rinse it. Thorin kept his eyes closed when she was finished, his body completely relaxed and at peace.

Seeing how he turned into mush under her skilled hands, made washing Thorin’s hair something Y/N loved to do. It was not her favorite part… no, that part came up next.

She leaned over and pressed a kiss below his ear, and took the washcloth from the side of the tub. Carefully pouring some oil on it, she kneaded the cloth until it was properly soaked, before she let it glide over his chest.

A smile played around her lips when Thorin groaned as soon as she started massaging his muscles with the cloth, washing away the tension in them.

Her hands let the washcloth glide over the muscles in his arms, shoulders and legs, adding enough pressure to work the knots out, leaving no skin untouched.

Except the part where he needed her touch the most.

Every time she came close, Thorin bit his lip in anticipation but she always changed direction or directed her attention elsewhere. He grew more and more desperate, she noticed. So far so good.

“What were you and Dwalin talking about?” she asked, curious about the subject of their conversation.

Thorin opened his eyes, but couldn’t meet hers.

“Ah… yes. Well, I may have taken off my tunic during our sparring session tonight.”

Oh. So Dwalin got curious, she thought. She abandoned the washcloth, letting it float around the water.

“I bet he had some questions about these?”

Her finger started trailing the contours of the bruises. First in a faster circular motion, but as she got closer to his hips she slowed her pace down and adjusted the pressure to nothing more than a feather-light touch.

Thorin closed his eyes again and let his head fall back against the sloping side of the tub. His breath came quicker and when her eyes wandered down his stomach, she was pleased to notice his member was back at full attention again. When she let her finger linger near the tip, she could hear him hold his breath in anticipation.

“What did you tell him?”

But Thorin didn’t give her an answer, too focused on her movements and ministrations. She was so close, just a little more to the left...

But instead of doing what he wanted her to do - and she knew he was desperate for it, her teasing and lingering touches had made him wild with desire - she changed direction again and traced the inside of his thigh and pelvic bone, purposefully ignoring his hard on.

“Tease!” he groaned, clutching the edge of the tub in frustration.

Y/N raised an eyebrow in question. “A tease? Me?”

She stood up, clutching her chest like she was actually shocked by his accusation.

“I would never,” she smirked, and Thorin loved the way her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to tell me what you told Dwalin.”

“I merely gave him some advice based on our experiences, ghivashel. I believe master Dwalin will keep his flushed cheeks for the remainder of the week. Serves him right.”

Satisfied with his answer, she turned to grab a towel, dropping it on a nearby chair for him to use later.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her eyes lingered on his pulsing cock for a few seconds before she winked at him. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much.”

Before she could leave him, he called out to her.

“The least you can do is give me another kiss.”

Y/N smiled and leaned down to peck his nose.

“No, a kiss worthy of a king,” he groaned.

But when she leaned further down to press her lips on his, she missed how his eyes held the same twinkle hers did a few moments ago…

Before she knew it, Thorin had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her on top of him. Their movements made the water splash everywhere and Y/N shrieked when her dress got soaked with the bathwater.

“Oakenshield,” she growled, pushing her off his chest with her hands and settling in his lap.

She enjoyed the lustful clouding of his eyes when she moved just the slightest, giving him the friction he longed for.

“Always trying to get what you want,” she reprimanded him.

“Can you blame me?”

His hands drifted admiringly over her body, following the curves of her bossom and hips.

“Yes!”

He was taking over control and she had to stop it before she gave in. With some difficulty she managed to climb out of the tub and wrung the water out of the dress of her skirt, turning the bathroom floor in a small pond. Seeing as Thorin made no move to get out of his bath or apologize, Y/N decided to take the teasing to a higher level.

Keeping her back to her husband, she slowly unhooked the fastings of her dress and let it drop to the floor with a slap. She heard the sharp intake of Thorin’s breath and the slosh of the water when he sat up.

Oh, that’s right… Did she forget to mention she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? Oops…

He wasted no time in getting out of the bath, not even bothering to take a towel to dry himself. The only thing on his mind was to get to his wife as fast as possible.

She whimpered when their bodies clashed together, the evidence of his arousal poking between her butt cheeks. His lips attacked her neck, and she was almost certain the firm grip of his fingers on her waist would leave bruises the next day. Not that she minded.

He guided them into their bedroom, and when the back of her knees touched the bed frame, her mind cleared and she tutted at him.

“Since when are you in charge, yâsûn?”

He cupped her breasts, softly kneading them and letting his thumbs flick over her nipples. He lowered his head to take one in his mouth, not stopping his caresses on the other one.

Y/N sighed and let her head fall on her shoulder, her hand finding its way in his hair. His damned mouth...

“I don’t hear you complain,” he smirked.

She certainly didn’t complain when he slid one of his thick, calloused fingers between her folds, and Thorin moaned when he felt how slick she already was.

“You’ve been enjoying your teasing,” he accused her. “All this for me?”

She grabbed his length and he hissed at the sudden contact. She stroked a few times to spread the precum, and when her thumb flicked the head it took all his strength not to come all over her hand right that minute.

“I couldn’t stay behind with all this for me...” she smirked.

With a growl he connected their lips again. His wife knew exactly which buttons to press and he both loved and hated it. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed her thighs and squeezed them, urging her to jump up. Y/N did as asked - which surprised Thorin - and locked her ankles behind his back to keep her balance.

Not bothering to clear the furs from the bed, he laid her down on top of them, her hair sprawled out on the pillows.

She bit her lip when she noticed how his eyes had darkened even further, Thorin looked like he could devour her any minute. She didn’t realise how close to the truth she was. Maybe he needed another round of teasing...

Before she could follow through with her plan, Thorin took the lead.

He flipped her on her stomach, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto him, all in one fluent move. It was a position they only did once before but he had already claimed it as his favorite.

Knowing what he wanted, she placed her knees on either side of his hips and let her back rest against his front. The hairs on his chest rubbed deliciously against her soft skin and she had a hard time staying still. The muscles in his thighs and stomach were rock hard, just like her toy in between. Y/N’s hand went up his hair and tugged it harshly when her clit came in contact with his cock.

“Are you ready for me, little one?”

His voice got even lower if that was possible, the words wrapping around her like a silky smooth blanket. If he kept talking like that, it would be over for her before they even began.

“Thorin, please,” she begged.

“I thought you liked teasing?” he chuckled.

She grabbed his member, guiding it to her entrance and lowered herself down in an attempt to shut him up, a desperate moan falling from her lips when their hips connected. Thorin tightened his grip on her. She felt absolutely divine.

“Only when I’m the one doing it,” she gasped, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out.

One of his arms slid around her stomach and settled between her legs, circling her clit with his thumb when he began to thrust upwards.

They soon found a steady rhythm, and Y/N could feel her orgasm building quickly.

No, too soon, she thought and she slowed down the pace, slapping his hand away from her clit.

She leaned forward, keeping her body up with her hands on the furs. The new angle made her feel every inch of him and a loud moan escaped her throat.

This is what she had been craving the entire day.

She raised her hips until only his tip was inside of her and then lowered herself down, agonizingly slow.

“You’re such a good girl for me. Mahal, keep going, do not stop!”

She loved it when he got vocal, and with each curse and praise he murmured, she felt herself getting closer to her release.

Thorin noticed her change in breathing and pitch of her moans and sped up the pace.

This was all feeling too good and with the help of his encouragements she came undone, clutching the furs until her knuckles turned white.

He cursed heavily when she clamped down on him, but did his best to help her ride out her high. He kissed her neck and stilled his movements to give her a break, only resuming them when she nodded that she was okay.

As he began to thrust even harder and faster, Thorin gathered her hair in one hand to keep her in place, his other hand firmly on her waist while he chased his own release. His moans became increasingly louder, less controlled with each thrust and a curse escaped his lips.

“You feel too good, ghivashel, m’not going to last,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

He came with a shout and a cutoff curse but kept thrusting in and out of her until he felt himself soften. When he finally pulled out, he covered her back in kisses.

Y/N laid down on the bed and opened her arms for him to cuddle. Both their bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and it took them a while to catch their breath.

These were the moments when she felt the safest. In his arms, in the after bliss of their lovemaking, listening to the soft and even breathing of her husband. She kissed his head and trailed the muscles of his upper back with her finger, earning her a content sigh from Thorin.

A chuckle escaped her throat and he looked up at her questioningly.

“Now you have something new to tell Dwalin,” she said with a wink.

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