#2330 words

[windfighter]

Nightmares calling

Prompt: Nightmares

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Touma stared at the ceiling. The bed was empty next to him, the room quiet except the echoes of the scream that had woken him up. His own scream this time. He turned to the side, put his hand against the empty side of the mattress. The dream was already slipping through his fingers. It had been flashes of memories, but distorted, twisted. Something from slightly to the left of reality.

He sat up, crosslegged, on the bed. Wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. The cover snatched around his feet. He stared at the door. Had Masaru disappeared again? Left him alone? He took a shaky breath, wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

Masaru could at least have said good bye.

Touma stood up from the bed, the cover fell to the floor. He stepped over it, walked up to the door. The night felt like it exsisted outside of reality. A little to the left. Maybe it was just echoes of the dream clinging to him. His hand shook. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. A light was shining in the kitchen, weak, far away. Touma rubbed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

Walked towards the light like a moth drawn to a flame.

Brown eyes blinked at him when he stepped into the kitchen. Touma blinked back. Lifted a hand and gently placed it against Masaru’s cheek. Touma took another shaky breath, closed his eyes and leaned forwards. Masaru was there, was fine. Masaru wrapped his arms around Touma and Touma pressed his face against Masaru’s neck.

”Did I wake you up?” Masaru asked.

Touma tried to remember the dream again. Masaru had been in it. Bloody. Ripped from him. The bed empty, but Touma didn’t want to connect it to the memories he had lived through. He took a shaky breath.

”Nightmare”, he mumbled.

He gripped Masaru’s shirt, took in Masaru’s warmth against his body. Masaru hugged him closer.

”Musta been a bad one”

Touma yawned, wrapped his own arms around Masaru.

”Are you coming back to bed? Or… are you heading back?”

Back to the digital world, where he had continued his father’s work. Where Touma couldn’t follow because he still had things to do in the human world. Masaru put a hand at the back of Touma’s head, pulled his fingers through Touma’s hair.

”Hey, this is my home now”, he whispered. ”I promised I’d stay.”

”Why were you not in bed?” Touma asked.

Masaru leaned down, put his hands under Touma’s knees and hoisted him up. Carried him over to the chairs by the bar-disk and sat him down. Poured a glass of water and handed it to Touma before sitting down himself.

”Nightmare”, Masaru said. ”Figured I’d cool off before trying to fall back asleep.”

Touma grabbed Masaru’s hand, squeezed it. Took a few sips of the water. It was cool and he felt the beat of his heart slow down. He put the glass on the table, leaned against Masaru’s shoulder. Masaru squeezed Touma’s hand.

”As much as I loved it, we were probably a bit too young to be expected to save the world”, he said.

”Hmm”, Touma agreed.

He wouldn’t change it if he could, but he didn’t have the same nightmares as Masaru did. His own were other wounds that still hadn’t quite healed. He closed his eyes. Didn’t want to think about it.

He’d never stop grieving her.

Masaru put an arm over Touma’s shoulders, gave him a sideway hug. Masaru felt strong and safe and Touma’s muscles relaxed.

”Ready to head back to bed?” Masaru asked.

”I am”, Touma said and pulled a hand across his face.

Hid a yawn behind his hand. Masaru laughed and stood up. Touma stood up as well, stretched. Felt the blanket slid off his shoulder and fall to the floor. He blinked. Masaru picked it up before Touma had even processed what happened.

He was so tired.

”For the next time”, he said and had to yawn again, ”please wake me up when the nightmares get too bad.”

Masaru laughed. Shoved Touma towards the bedroom. Touma took a couple stumbling steps before he regained his footing and walked steadily the rest of the way. Masaru turned the lights off, followed him. They returned to the bed and Touma rolled up against Masaru, put his head on Masaru’s shoulder. Masaru looked at the ceiling.

”There’ll be more nights like this”, he said. ”When the dreams’re too heavy.”

Touma put his arm across Masaru’s chest, hugged him. Masaru laughed.

”It’ll be fine though. We have each other.”

”Yes”, Touma’s cheeks burned. ”We… we do.”

Masaru laughed again, moved his arm and wrapped it around Touma. Held him close and pulled the cover over them. Kissed the top of Toumas head.

”Go back to sleep now.”

Touma laughed as well. Shook his head and closed his eyes.

”You too, Masaru. Wake me up if you have another nightmare.”

”I will”, Masaru promised and Touma could finally relax completely.

[albertxylin]

Wet Floor

A wet floor sign is placed next to a plastic bin, Underneath a ceiling higher than the sky In an ostentatious office building With too much glass and wood and stone and chrome to seem anywhere close to alive, Decorated with tasteful modern art that says nothing besides its price tag. There is no way to fix the leak, No way to repair an artifice as impractical as it is imposing, Only waiting until the sky is less grey and the rain moves on. I find it comforting to know that this castle of man cannot escape nature.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

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Tag list for Adam: @sunflower-lilly @moonbloom226

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader, eventual smut

Warnings: language, mention of drugs

Chapter Word Count: 2330

—-MDNI—-

A/N: wooooop new series! I'm trying something new with this one! As a mom myself I loooove reading mom!reader fics, so I wanted to write my own. It's a slightly shorter first chapter, but the following ones should be longer. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, reading your comments makes my day ❤️ and of course, this is proofread only by myself so pls pls let me know of any errors! I really hope you enjoy it. I also didn’t write this at 2am for once so brownie points to me hahaha

Photos from Pinterest

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Chapter 1

“Come on, (Y/n)! You have to tell me all about it! What was he like? Did you kiss? Hold hands? Where did he take you?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the rapidfire questions spewing from Kats mouth. Kat, the stunner sat opposite me with perfect dark skin and the inability to have a bad hair day, was my closest friend. We lived on the same street, drank at the same bar and both hated this small, slightly judgemental town equally. We bonded over the similarities in our lives - like both of us having fallen pregnant at a young age and being dealt the hand of having to raise our kids as single parents. Life was fucking hard sometimes (well, nearly all the time), but my son, Levi, and Kat, made this life worth living.

“Jesus Christ, ok! The date was ok.”

“Uh oh. ‘Ok’? That means it was awful, right?” she raised an eyebrow.

I took a gulp of my coffee.

“The date was ok. But he was…. Seriously not my type. He was too…perfect?” I winced as the words left my mouth, fully aware of how utterly ridiculous that sounded.

“Girl, ‘too perfect’? What the fuck kind of excuse is that?” Kat snorted slightly into her latte.

“I know, I know. But he reminded me of a Ken doll, ya’know? With his white jeans and his Armani sweater over his shoulders - that’s not really… me. The dude gets more manicures than I do. Plus he drives a Fiat Panda. Levi wouldn’t be caught dead getting in and out of one of those.”

“You can’t use your sons taste in cars to dictate the men in your life. That’s a low blow and you know it.”

“Ok then, you go out with Robert and tell me about all the kale facts that you never wanted to learn.” I leant back on the couch, clutching my coffee with both hands to bring some warmth to my fingertips. Kat did the same opposite me, leaning back in the plush armchair as we both took a second to glance out of the large café windows. This was our happy place, right here. It was the place we would come to when we first met and the boys were still in diapers. It was our happy place for the last nine years, and we would come here for every situation: be it a breakup, a catch-up, to discuss terrible sexual encounters or dire situations that need insane back-up plans. But we mostly came here to people-watch. Being the young, single moms that we were, we were constantly under the scrutiny of the small town, having every decision judged by the perfect Jeep-driving soccer moms and the old ladies from church. When we came here, to sit by this window in these comfy-as-fuck couches, it was our turn to do a little judging.

“Vicki Priestley isn't fooling anyone with those sunglasses,” I said, taking another sip of coffee as I watched the thin peroxide blonde across the street repeatedly wipe her nose with the back of her hand.

“Right? We get shunned for…well… fuck all, yet that Paris wannabe can snort coke on a Tuesday school run and everyone turns a blind eye? What a joke.”

“Amen to that,” we watched her for a few more seconds as she climbed behind the wheel of some monstrous four by four and sped off down the road.

“Did you hear that Mrs. Harris caught Mr. Harris with a young mistress? Apparently she works at the bank.”

“Oh my GOD yes I heard!” Kat exclaimed, leaning forward, “and as revenge she put Nair in his shampoo - he's completely hairless, even his eyebrows are gone.”

We both snickered as we raised our mugs.

“To Mrs. H for taking no shit.”

Conversation flowed as topics ranged from the new dessert parlour that opened last week down the road to the extortionate price of kids' Motocross gear.

“I mean the bikes are so tiny, why do they have to cost that much?”

“You're preaching to the choir babes, Toby just outgrew his boots for the third time this year,” Kat grimaced at the thought of how much money she'd spent already.

“Ouch, they're like what? Eighty bucks a pair?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah well, I had to get Levi a new helmet after that little dickhead from the tournament last month crashed into the side of him. That boy was more upset about the stickers he lost than the bruises he got,” I shook my head with a smile on my lips. Kat did the same.

“That's a tough kid you've got there.”

I sighed.

“Yeah I know. Despite never having met him, he's so much like his dad. It's a little concerning actually,” I laughed nervously, instantly regretting bringing up Levi’s father in front of Kat. I glanced up at her, taking a sip of my coffee in an attempt to hide behind the mug. The wiggling of her eyebrows being an indicator of her impending wrath.

“That man is the reason why you’re never satisfied with your dates. He set that bar waaaay too high.”

I scoffed. “He did not. We were young and he just swept me off my feet a bit, that’s all; with that ‘give ‘em Hell’ attitude and handsome face. Plus he had a great car.”

“Last time you said his face was ‘gorgeous’,” Kat cupped her face and fluttered her eyelashes, puckering her lips. I threw a sugar packet at her which she batted right back at me.

There was a moment of quiet as we both looked out the window again, my mind unable to stop itself from racing through old memories.

“Do you think he’ll ever come calling?” Kat asked, some sincerity to her tone. I sighed and slumped back further on the couch.

“I highly doubt it. He doesn’t even know that Levi exists. I tried calling him a few years back but some guy John W. had that number instead. I gave up after that. Plus, he had this kinda dangerous job, and normally if he showed up it was because something was going to go down,” I paused, looking into the dark liquid in my cup, “It’s probably a good thing that he hasn’t just shown up.”

“You say that, but you still have that photo you took together on your vanity.”

I shot her a look, pursing my lips and pinching my brows as she laughed, knowing she'd stumped me there. I quickly downed my coffee and checked my watch before standing and grabbing my bag.

“Come on, let's stop interrogating me and go pick up the boys before all Hell breaks loose at the track.”

“Mom it wasn't my fault, I swear.”

I slammed the car door closed and turned to the boy who stood close enough to be my shadow.

I turned around to face him with a stern expression, “so you did do it? After I called that boys mom a liar? LEVI.”

Levi, my son, looked close to tears, his bottom lip trembling.

“Mom, I'm so sorry! I'll never do it again!”

I narrowed my eyes at him before sighing, already exasperated, throwing the car keys into my bag.

“Did you at least stick to the golden rule?”

His answer was a vigorous nod, the tremble in his lip disappearing.

“‘Never throw the first punch; throw the second and finish the fight,’” he recited the words like a prayer.

“And…?”

“‘Always claim self defence.’”

I smiled and ruffled his soft brown hair.

“Good boy. What started the fight anyway?” I asked, guiding him to walk through the parking lot towards that new dessert parlour.

“He said I was weird for not having a dad.”

I looked down at him, eyes softening and I lifted a hand to rub his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he'd had this argument, and it likely won't be the last. Kids can be assholes. “And then he hit me when I said ‘at least my mom's boobs are real.’”

“Levi!” I stopped in my tracks and looked at him, mortified. I didn't even know where to start with that one. “Where-”

“Jamie from math class told me what ‘implants’ were… and he said that Brad's mom had them.”

He looked up at me innocently, and I knew then that he didn't fully grasp what he'd said to Brad - the kid he'd just punched between the eyes. I sighed for the umpteenth time and started walking again.

“Whatever, just… don't say that to anyone again, ok? You're gonna make me look like a terrible parent.”

“Ok mo- whoa! Look at that car!” It was Levi's turn to stop dead in his tracks as he stood in awe of the sleek black car parked by the sidewalk.

A black Chevy Impala.

“Oh wow,” my words came out slightly breathless, my mind suddenly racing to him and the conversation I'd had with Kat earlier that afternoon.

“So cool!” Levi gushed, walking up close to it but not close enough to touch.

“Yes, very cool. Now let's go inside before they run out of ice cream,” I ushered him to the door, reflexively looking over my shoulder, not knowing if I even wanted to see who could possibly be in the area.

The bell jingled as we walked in and Levi ran up to the counter, pressing his forehead to the glass. My eyes scanned the menu and I was pleasantly surprised to see they served coffee.

“What do you fancy kiddo?” I ruffled his hair again and waited for him to decide, and it wasn't long before he'd made up his mind. After ordering, we headed towards a small table-for-two at the edge of the room, and as Levi slumped down in his chair something familiar caught my attention.

A voice.

My heart quickly became erratic in my chest and my palms grew sweaty. I looked in the direction the voice had come from and was met with a slap in the face from memory lane.

There he was; the same wicked grin and mischievous eyes that had burned themselves into my memory. He dressed the same as he did nine years ago - right down to the necklace and leather jacket. He was engrossed in a conversation with another man, who looked slightly younger than himself, all whilst digging into a stack of waffles.

“Mom?”

The sound of Levi's voice snapped me out of the stunned fog I was caught up in and I quickly sat down, trying my best to focus on my son and not the man who was sitting only a few feet behind him. Levi looked like he was about to ask another question when a giant chocolate sundae and a coffee appeared at the table. I heard the waitress challenge Levi to finish the whole thing, but it was like I was listening to the world through water. My mind wouldn't stop racing. He's here. Do I talk to him? Will he remember me? Do I tell him about Levi? I hurriedly pulled my phone from my bag and sent her a hasty message before turning back to the boy in front of me, convincing a smile to appear on my lips.

“If you have room in that black-hole stomach of yours then you definitely could've finished your veggies earlier at dinner.”

He smirked slightly, like he always did when he knew he was getting away with murder, and it almost took my breath away. I saw the same smirk grace the lips of the man in the booth behind him. The mans gaze shifted to the side and when his eyes met mine - the same vibrant twists of green and gold that I have tattooed on my memory - I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart leaping in my chest as I tore my eyes away. I clutched my coffee cup, staring intently at the dark swirling liquid, praying to anyone or anything that I'd find the answers to my troubles in the bottom of this mug. The prickling on my skin was unshakable, like his eyes were on me and I was trapped under his intense observation, unable to breath. Minutes felt like hours, and eventually he and his companion stood before heading to the door. The moment they were gone with the bell signalling their departure, the air gushed from my lungs as I dropped my head into my hands, earning myself a confused look from my son. I offered him a reassuring smile which he accepted before returning to shovelling ice-cream into his face.

Just when I thought I was safe, I looked up and locked eyes with him. Our eyes locked through the window just as he opened the car door, leaning on it. It was like time froze, and for a few moments, despite my earlier urgency to not make eye contact, I was now unable to look away. My breath caught in my throat as a smirk pulled at his lips before he ducked down into the driver's seat, slamming the car door closed. I found myself chewing on my bottom lip as he tore out of the parking lol, that familiar rumble of the engine practically rattling the windows and, despite the noise, it was a comforting sound.

Once they were out of sight and the impala could no longer be heard, I sighed, pushing my hair off my face and running my hands through my hair. As Levi polished off the last of his ice-cream, my phone buzzed on the table. Opening it and reading the message, a small wave of relief washed over me as Kat confirmed that Toby would be at his dad's for once so she could come over to drink wine and discuss very important topics. She hasn't got a clue what I need to vent about yet, but I feel like tonight is going to be a very long night.

——————————————————————

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

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[throneofsapphics]

against the contract, chapter two

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: d/s dynamics, non sexual submission

word count: 2330

a/n: if anyone wants on the taglist please let me know! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter & happy kinktober y'all!

<<< prev. chapter | series masterlist | next chapter >>>

You twirled in front of the mirror for what you promised yourself was the last time. It wasn’t giving the vibe you needed it to. Groaning, you ripped your dress over your head, tossing it into the corner of your room. Too puffy. Too frilly. They were expecting the you they saw that night at Francine’s club, not some prissy and polished version. 

If it wouldn’t get you arrested, you might’ve just shown up naked. It’s a shame you had to drive there, and you’d surely get pulled over with your luck. Cops, you wanted to avoid at all costs. 

Rummaging through your closet, something hiding in the back caught your eye. The fabric, a midnight black according to the tag you just ripped off, still smelt new. You shook out the couple of wrinkles that had settled in, and slipped it on. 

Barely managing to zipper in by yourself, you spun slowly, not twirling, you told yourself, in front of your mirror. Glancing at the clock, you decided it would have to be enough. As it stood, you were already running late. Grabbing a small handbag, you shoved your essentials and the contract inside of it and walked very quickly out the door. 

They were about a forty-five minute drive out of the city, into an area you knew was teeming and crawling with “fuck you” wealth. You’d done private parties out there before, always making great tips. At least to you, the wealthy had been generous. Maybe luck would strike again. Rapping your fingers against the wheel, you hummed the catchy tune showing up on your shuffled playlist but couldn’t remember the artist or song name for the life of you.  

Just approaching the property, you could see how well taken care of it was based on the beautiful, giant holly trees. They both cast shade over the path, and blocked off any view of the neighbors to the left. If there were neighbors close by. You caught glimpses of gardens and beautiful native greenery through the trees on your right. The driveway was paved the entire way through, two lanes, and at least a mile long. The price they were offering started to make sense. It was probably nothing to them. 

Finally pulling up to the house in your rather economical car, a splurge to you a few years ago, you felt decidedly like an underdog. Not that this was some sort of superhero story, but your vehicle certainly was out of place amongst the several high-end black SUV's visible. All identical, all with blacked out windows. You frowned, blacked out windows were for criminals and politicians. Who exactly had Francine sent you to meet? You reminded yourself of the freedoms the payout of this job could afford you, and of your promise to yourself that if looking at them made you want to throw up, you'd leave.

The driveway finished in a circle, an elegant manor greeting you. Vines grew directly in the white stone, snaking up the columns supporting the second story balconies. With a squint, you could see a chandelier through one of the bay windows on the front of the house. The french doors, obviously the front entrance, were filled with panes of beautiful stained glass, looking as if they’d been stolen from a church. It looked like one of the ones you and your mother used to drive by for fun, to gaze at and wonder about their lives. A pang of nostalgia and grief hit you, quickly overshadowed as you remembered you had a job to do. 

Stepping out onto the smooth stones, you brushed your dress down and gently closed your car door behind you, clicking the key to lock it. The front doors opened before you began to ascend the stairs, a dark skinned woman greeting you with a small, albeit a bit distant, smile. It took conscious effort to keep your jaw slammed shut as she guided you inside the massive manor house. Still, you knew the whites of your eyes were showing. 

”Maybe you should be on your knees,” she murmured quietly as shoes clicked against the tile flooring in the distance. 

“Excuse me?” You matched her tone. 

She gave you a look that simultaneously said, ‘you heard me’ and ‘your funeral,’ and left you standing there. Alone. You understood you were to stay put, but gods you wanted to follow. Steeling yourself with a few breaths, you clasped your hands in front of you and waited. 

-

“I informed her, I imagine she’ll be standing,” Nuala murmured in his ear as they crossed paths. 

Rhys nodded. You hadn’t been informed of any rules of the like, so he hadn’t expected you to do it, but he wanted to throw something out there. For fun. Feyre was glaring at him, but he was sure she’d like the results. 

“Ready?” He asked Feyre and Azriel quietly. The former hummed angrily, the latter giving a short nod. Az was always the most nervous about adding anyone new to the household, regardless of how thorough his background checks were. It took ages for him to truly trust anyone and Rhys respected him for it. Feyre, on the other hand, tended to give away her trust too quickly, and paid for it later on. 

They rounded the corner and you stood there, hands clasped in front of you, a fire in your eyes as if you’d come to some decision during the span of the last minute you’d been left alone. 

”I wasn't informed there would be a test run.” There was a bite in your tone that thrilled and worried him at the same time. As fun as they were, they weren’t looking for a brat right now. 

”Is now inconvenient?” Stars danced in his eyes as he posed the challenge. 

”No.”

”Then on your knees.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, you dropped, elegantly slowing yourself so the impact wouldn't be too harsh. Your hands found their way behind you, fingers interlaced, head bowed, the same portrait of submission he'd seen that night. His worries eased. Feyre let out a slow breath next to him, Azriel was stoic as always - almost always. 

Rhys took a step closer, Azriel followed and circled behind you, Feyre standing off to his right. Surrounded. He liked the idea of the three of them overwhelming you, some day. 

-

”Perfect,” you could've sworn you heard him say, but … that didn't seem likely. The three of them were like Gods and a Goddess. You were no comparison.

It went against all training but you peeked up through your lashes to look at him, to find him staring right back as if he was waiting for this. Fuck. You quickly averted your gaze and he chuckled.

Time passed, they retreated but you knew they were still in the room, watching.

Thoughts began to empty from your head, not quite throwing you into subspace but somewhere … floatier.

Somewhere free of your current worries and obligations, a reminder, despite the results of this 'test,' of why you loved this, of why you were a submissive.

”You pass,” the words came, then a hand. You didn't hesitate before taking it. 

Another hand, warm and firm, gripped your shoulder and held you upright while you got your legs back beneath you. You grimaced as pins and needles ran up and down your shins. 

”Let's get you some water,” a voice, low and cool like shadows, said, the speaker's mouth just inches away from your ear. His hand tucked itself appropriately into the crook of your elbow, guiding you back towards where they’d arrived from. You noticed a few golden rings on his fingers, blue gems set deep into them. They were gorgeous, and probably worth more than you were. Scars peppered his skin, but you knew better than to ask about another person's wounds. No matter how healed they were, a wrong question could open it right back up. 

“Okay,” you breathed, still trying to get your entire mind back in this world. Their presence, the sheer power they radiated, was intoxicating. You were almost ashamed you’d ever thought they might be ugly, and reminded yourself to thank Francine. The bat might faint when you do. You’d been blessed with the sight of the three most gorgeous people you’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Maybe you were still a bit addled but they felt like a gift to your fucking eyes, and you were very glad mind reading was impossible - existing only in some of the fairy porn books you read - otherwise you would have three gorgeous people laughing at you, and that wouldn’t do. 

The man, who introduced himself as Azriel, led you silently into a rather formal dining room. He guided you into a seat at a black walnut table, pushing your chair in after you. There was an assortment of pastries and small fancy sandwiches waiting for you. 

Small talk was easy with them, comfortable even. As if they were pros at lulling people into states of security, false or real. 

“So,” Rhys leans back, tilting his chair on its back two legs. “How much of the contract did you show that nosy boss of yours?” 

“None,” you said and made sure to look him directly in the eyes, unsure if you felt offended by the implication you would share the information, or offended on Francine’s behalf. In all honesty it was probably the first. “It’s my business,” you added as clarification, uncertain if you really needed it but it felt right. 

He hummed and nodded, tapping the fingers of his left hand against the table, a silver ring glinting, catching the light from the chandelier. Your eyes tracked to the chair next to him, aware of Azriel on your left watching your every move, and you found Feyre watching you as well. 

She was elegant in a way you’d never seen before, exuding grace with each movement but ... you could see the callouses on her palms, the subtle but telling way her shoulders hunched forward slightly over her plate, like she was uncertain if someone might take her next meal from her. You knew because you’d trained the habit out of yourself. 

Sending a soft smile her way, you waited for their next question, not so patiently on the inside but you were well aware you appeared perfectly content on the outside. 

“I’m assuming you have questions about the contract,” Rhys finally said. 

“I do,” you tapped a finger against the table, frowning. “I have them written down, but it’s in my bag.” 

Azriel was out of his chair before you’d completely finished the sentence, and on his way to the door. You pivoted in your seat, watching him ... very inappropriately for a moment before you caught yourself. Somehow, barely, you managed to keep the flush from your cheeks at the others knowing smirks. 

Azriel was back within a minute with your bag, and you slipped the contract out of it, wondering if someone rifled through the contents while you were separated from it - not that they’d find anything interesting. 

“Right,” you flipped towards the section you’d highlighted a few days ago. 

The Submissive will conduct themself in a respectful manner at all times, unless otherwise requested

“What does ‘unless otherwise requested’ mean?” You asked and turned the paper around, sliding it across the table to Rhys, knowing Azriel had been looking over your shoulder. Plus, it was quite obvious who was in charge. He’d ordered you to your knees, after all. 

“There may be times we ask you to ... play a part,” he clarified, mouth curving up at one corner. Feyre’s lips pursed together, as if she was holding herself back from speaking. Maybe that section was her idea. 

“Does that work for you?” Azriel asked. 

You nodded, before catching yourself, turning to face him and replying, “yes.” 

An approving nod was your response. Even that tiny hint of approval from one of them sent a warm feeling through your chest. Gods, you could feel yourself becoming conditioned to them already, and you hadn’t even put ink on the paper. 

“Any other questions?” Feyre asked. 

You nodded, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and flipping through the papers again. 

“I like it,” you heard Rhys, but focused on finding your section 

L.1 The Submissive will live with the Dominants for the duration of the contract.

“I would live here?” 

-

“We’d expect this to be a full time commitment, meaning you wouldn’t take on other obligations for the months you’d be with us,” his wife explained after he prodded her. Feyre was acting shyer than usual and it was endearing, as well as a tad worrying. He wanted her to feel comfortable around you, and safe, and if she couldn’t ... well he’d pay out the contract and let you go. As pretty as you were, Rhys would put his wife first. 

“That makes sense,” you said slowly, nodding as you thought it over. 

“Any other questions?” You asked a few more. It pleased him that you were taking this seriously, rather than just a money grab. Majority of the people they found saw the sum and were quick to say yes to everything else. He needed to be able to trust someone to actually speak up. 

“That’s everything I have,” you finally said. 

“Then let's sign,” Rhys pulled a pen from his pocket, and Azriel produced two fresh copies of the contract. You had no idea the danger you were throwing yourself into. He wouldn’t ruin you, but you certainly wouldn’t be the same after this. Rhys had a feeling none of them would be.

Later that night, Rhys lounged in an elegant high backed chair, not unlike a throne, with Feyre perched on one leg while Azriel knelt at his feet, and let the whiskey wet his lips and tongue before dripping down his throat. He imagined someone else kneeling next to Azriel. You. 

-

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[vicsnook]

Never Left Me Pt. 1 | Scott Miller x Reader

word count: 2330

warnings: arguing, Scott being Scott

notes: Hello! I’m still here y’all, just been dealing with a lot of personal stuff so haven’t been able to write as much as I’d like. But here is a little something for this brat of a man who had probably less than 10 minutes of screen time but continues to live in my head rent free. Hope you enjoy and part 2 will be up Sunday! As always, please don’t forget to like and reblog 🫶🏼.

A row of desks is all that stands between me and the man who I once thought might have a soul despite what everyone else said. Everyone that is sitting on the desks is thankfully too busy to see me coming and that’s how I make it past the receptionist and to his office.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Scott! You can’t go through with this!” I yell as soon as I walk in. The anger is still cursing through me from where I read the termination email.

His eyes lift up from the monitor and I can tell immediately by his expression that he is very displeased by my interruption. Well that makes two of us now, I think to myself.

“Sorry sir, she ran past me,” says the receptionist from behind me and I don’t need to turn around to know she’s giving me a nasty look.

He looks between us before waving her off. “It’s fine, Kathy. Please excuse us.”

“It’s one thing to have investors when you could do our research with grants and not have to be unethical.” I fume. “It’s another to let the biggest asshole in Oklahoma now own half the company and let him fire half of us without cause.”

He scoffs, not bothering to look at me. “I did what was best for the company. Sorry you didn’t make the cut. If you need any letters of recommendation, please let Kathy know.”

It takes everything in me not to walk over and smack the attitude out of him but I know I might need the stupid recommendation so I take a deep breath instead.

“Anything else? Or do I need to get security to escort you out?” He says, looking at me with those icy blue eyes that once gave me butterflies.

“When this inevitably blows up in your face, don’t bother to call.” I respond and walk out, not bothering to close the door on my way out which I know he hates.

The elevator is slow to get me to the lab where I pick up what little I keep in my office and then with one last look to the place that I once considered my second home, I start to head out. Taking down the picture of Javi, Kate, Scott, and I from the wall and throwing it in the trash can before I get on the elevator.

After eating way too much ice cream for dinner and playing darts with Scott’s picture attached to the board, I realize I have no idea what to do next. Only thing that’s for certain is that bills will pile up quickly if I can’t get another job soon though.

So I dial the only person I know might help me and hope my past job is something he can look past. Hope fills me up when he picks up on the first ring. His southern drawl already making me feel like things will actually be okay.

-

“Good lord, Y/N, as I live and breathe! What the heck are you doing here city girl?” Asks Boone, pulling me in for a much needed hug.

“Well the city didn’t really want me anymore so here I am.” I admit, looking at my feet as I blush in embarrassment.

Boone knows me too well and it won’t be long before I know I’ll have to keep him from punching Scott in the mouth. Even if he really deserves it. He sighs in response, looping his arm through mine and leading me to the rest of the team.

“Look at what the cat dragged in, come here girl,” Dani says, enveloping me into a hug that Lily is quick to join into. “Welcome aboard,” they whisper before pulling away.

“Alright, Alright, let’s not suffocate our newcomer. We still gotta show her the ropes.” He says, and I feel my heart begin to race. Damn you, Tyler Owens for having this effect on me, well actually, on most of the female population.

“Thanks again for the opportunity,” I say, turning around to meet his eye. The past couple of months definitely did him well, I think as I take in his physique.

“Don’t mention it.” He responds, leaving me to get acclimated with my new role in his team.

-

Soon enough we’re racing down the road to where a Tornado has begun to form but before we can turn into the street that will lead us right to it, the Scarecrow truck that I once shared with Scott cuts us off.

“God I hate that asshole,” Tyler mumbles as we resume our journey, now trailing Scott who can’t seem to pick a speed. “Turn left up here, then turn right before the dead end, it’ll put us right ahead,” I tell Tyler who is quick to follow instructions as I buckle into the harness and hold the steering wheel so he can do the same.

But the action is over before it’s even begun as the tornado quickly dissipates before it reaches us. Tyler and I look at each other and down at the computer which shows no other storms in the area today.

“Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” I say, radioing the rest of the team who suggests heading to the diner down the road for dinner.

“So what happened between Kate, Javi, and Scott? Why did they take off?” Tyler asks, as he drives down the nearly deserted back roads that lead to the town.

“Scott had a majority share in Storm Par because of his uncle and after the stunt Kate and Javi pulled in Reno, he had them pretty much fired.”

“Well, I got that already from Kate and being there but why didn’t they come back?” He asks, and I know exactly what he’s really asking. Why did Kate ghost him?

But I don’t know how to tell him the truth. So I try to do the one thing I suck at. Lie. “They just got busy, I guess. Javi got a job with Kate last I heard and it just worked out better up there for them,” I say, avoiding eye contact.

“I bet it did,” he mutters, and I can’t help the guilty feeling in my stomach. But could he handle the truth?

-

We head up to Texas the following week and the ride is mostly silent except for me giving directions to Tyler every once in a while. I don’t think he takes up very well to lying since he’s stopped trying to make friendly conversation and will only talk about work.

The motel comes into view and it isn’t the nicest. But when are they ever nice?

Tyler hands me my room key and I grab my bag. It feels odd being here without the rest of the team but we need to be in two places at once sometimes to get our data.

“Hey Tyler, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for lying the other day. I really hate to start our work relationship on the wrong foot.” I say, as we walk up the stairs to the rooms.

“So why don’t you tell me the truth then?”

His green eyes lock on mine and I suddenly feel nervous. “Kate, she wasn’t ready to be here. After her and Javi got fired, they figured they could make a better difference up in New York working with NOAA.” His face twists into a frown. “For what it’s worth Ty, she almost came back for you but you’ve gotta understand after what she went through, she just wasn’t ready.”

“I just wish she would’ve called.”

“I’m sorry, Ty. But she’s coming to see her mom in a few weeks. Maybe show up? See what’s up?”

“I just might. Now go on and get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He says, and I nod heading into my room.

-

“Ugh!” I grunt when my alarm goes off the next morning.

Why did I pick this job when I’ve never been a morning person?

I shower quickly and pack my dirty clothes back into my bag and as I put on my shoes there’s a knock on my door. He sure is punctual.

“Hey we’re getting some crazy weather east of here. You ready?” Tyler asks as soon as I open the door. “Yep, let me grab my stuff.”

By the afternoon we’ve already had two F1’s and a whole lot of data collected so Tyler decides we can head for some lunch.

The sight of the Storm Par truck is enough to make my appetite go away as I spot the scarecrow sticker on the back but nevertheless I follow Tyler in and order a burger.

“Hey I gotta make a call, I’ll be right back.” Tyler tells me and I’m left alone in the booth picking at my fries. Unfortunately for me it isn’t for long as Scott slides in to the seat across from me.

“Didn’t think you’d go work for the hillbillies,” he says, stealing one of my fries and I roll my eyes. “What the hell do you want Scott?”

“Just to offer you a job. I need a navigator.”

I scoff. “I told you I’m not working for you again.” I can feel his eyes on me but I refuse to look up.

“Suit yourself,” he says, sliding out of the booth and leaving me alone. God I cannot stand that man.

“Y/N! We gotta go!” yells Tyler, rushing back into the diner and I throw two 20’s on the table and run after him. Noticing Scott also getting up to follow.

The weather has changed in the little time we were in the diner. What was a clear sky is now dark gray and the rain starts to come down hard as I slam the truck door shut.

“It’s coming this way, look at the radar,” says Tyler as he shifts the truck in gear and soon we are speeding down the two lane highway. “Ty, it’s starting, oh God.”

The tornado is forming right ahead of us and as I stare at the screen in my laptop I realize it’s headed straight for the diner.

“Fuck, hold on!” yells Tyler, doing a U-turn and speeding back towards the diner. We need to move fast and get these people to safety.

I hop out as Tyler puts the truck in park and we rush back inside, Tyler yelling out to get to the back since there isn’t a storm shelter. People nearly trample us as they file into the back room.

I turn to the windows, the sound of the familiar sirens is almost deafening and that’s when I see him. Scott is pulling into the parking lot and the tornado is right behind him.

“Y/N! Get in here!” Yells Tyler but it’s muffled. My body is almost in autopilot as I sprint to the door to try to save the man who’d probably leave me for dead.

“Scott!” I scream, the rain is coming down harder and I can hardly see anything. The ground shakes beneath me but I push through to where I think I see him and we collide. “C’mon!” I yell as I pull him with me to safety and it’s like everything is in slow motion.

The windows burst into shards of glass and I duck, hoping Scott did too. My hand never leaving his as I continue to pull us inside and we make it, just barely.

He envelops me in his arms as the tornado goes over the diner and everything around us rattles. The screams of the people around us are terrifying and I think “Is this where we die?”

And just like that it’s over.

We survived.

-

I sit in a booth wincing in pain as Scott and Tyler pull glass shards out of my face and arms. The pain is nauseating and all I want is a shower and a nice bed.

“What were you thinking going after him?” asks Tyler when Scott walks back to the bathroom to get more paper towels.

“I wasn’t.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well that much is clear.”

I nod in agreement as he takes the paper towels from Scott and dabs at my cuts and I wince in pain.

“Yeah, you need to go back home and get some proper rest.” Tyler says, and shushes me before I can protest. “I’ll book you a flight tomorrow. Take a few days off. I’ll be back in Oklahoma by the time you’re good to go.”

I nod reluctantly.

“I can take her back, I’m heading back up tonight.” Scott says from behind Tyler and I stiffen at the suggestion. “Y/N, that's okay with you?” Asks Tyler looking at me and as much as I want to say no, I know if he doesn’t have to buy me a flight, he can use the money to help the community affected so I nod.

“C’mon I’ll take you back to the motel to get your things. Can you meet us there Scott?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he responds.

The car ride is silent other than the radio reporting the damages and all I can think of is wanting to stay but I know better than to argue with Tyler.

I slowly gather my things when we get to the motel trying to avoid spending much time with Scott. Why did I really go after him?

The hot water feels good on my skin as I wash away the blood and remaining pieces of glass. The alarm on my phone startles me and I step out knowing we have to go soon.

I wince as I apply ointment on my cuts then head out the door to meet Tyler and Scott.

“Drive safe!” Tyler yells as Scott pulls out into the highway and I know it’ll be a long six hours as he turns up the radio.

click here for part 2 🫢

[ms-snape]

"Love" (Harry Potter x Snape!reader)

Request: not a request, request are OPENED

Summary: Harry is in a secret relationship with Snape's daghter, he envetually find out

Warning: Angst, happy ending

Word count: 2330

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grounds of Hogwarts. The Black Lake shimmered under the golden light, its surface occasionally rippling as a soft breeze played across it. Y/N Snape sat on the grass, her heart racing with exhilaration as she intertwined her fingers with Harry Potter’s, their secret romance thriving in the secluded beauty of their surroundings.

“Do you think anyone will see us?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder, her dark hair framing her face like a curtain.

“Not unless they’re looking for trouble,” Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and affection. “Besides, it’s just a little hand-holding. What’s the worst that could happen?”

As if the universe had decided to intervene, the sound of footsteps crunched on the gravel path nearby. Y/N’s heart dropped. She turned just in time to see a familiar figure striding toward them, his robes billowing behind him like a dark cloud. Severus Snape, her father, was headed directly for them.

“Harry—” Y/N began, but it was too late.

Snape’s sharp gaze landed on their joined hands, and the air grew thick with tension. “What is the meaning of this?” he spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Harry’s expression shifted from carefree to alarmed in an instant. He instinctively released Y/N’s hand, standing up straighter. “Professor Snape, we—”

“Silence!” Snape’s voice echoed across the lake, startling nearby birds into flight. “Y/N, come here.”

Y/N felt her stomach twist. She knew that tone. It was the same tone that signaled she had crossed an invisible line. Reluctantly, she stood, her heart pounding as she walked away from Harry, who remained rooted in place.

“Dad, I can explain,” she started, but Snape’s expression darkened further.

“Explain what? That you are foolish enough to associate with Potter? The Boy Who Lived?” His eyes glinted with something akin to anger, but also hurt. “This is unacceptable.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. “Harry isn’t just ‘the Boy Who Lived.’ He’s my—”

“Your what?” Snape interrupted, his voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing? He is not worthy of you, Y/N. You know the risks of being involved with him.”

“He’s my boyfriend!” Y/N shouted, surprising herself with the force of her words. “And I love him!”

The air around them felt electric. Snape’s face paled slightly, a flash of emotion crossing his features before he masked it with cold indifference. “Love? You are too young to understand what love is. You are mine to protect, and I will not allow this foolishness to continue.”

Y/N’s heart sank. “So, you’ll just control me? You’ll dictate who I can and cannot see?”

“I will do what is necessary to keep you safe,” he replied, his voice firm. “End this relashionship, Y/N. Now.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as frustration boiled within her. “You can’t just order me to break up with him! I’m not a child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” Snape snapped, his patience wearing thin. “You may not understand the dangers, but I do. I will not let you ruin your life over a boy.”

With a heavy heart, Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of her father’s expectations crush her spirit. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Snape said, his voice softening slightly, though it still held an edge of authority. “You will speak with him immediately.”

Y/N turned away, her heart shattering with each step she took back toward Harry. She could feel her father's eyes boring into her back, a silent reminder of his control. When she reached Harry, she found him staring at her, a mix of confusion and concern on his face.

“Y/N?” he asked gently, his brows furrowing. “What did he say?”

With trembling hands, she took a deep breath. “Harry, I… I can’t see you anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Harry’s voice cracked, confusion flooding his expression. “Y/N, please. You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s for the best.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “We can figure this out. I don’t care what your dad thinks.”

“You don’t understand,” Y/N said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “He’ll never accept us. I can’t go against him. I can’t.”

Harry’s face fell, and for a moment, the world around them blurred. The laughter and chatter from the castle felt distant, and all that remained was the two of them standing at the edge of heartbreak.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, reaching out for her. “Don’t do this. I…. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cried, “but I have to listen to him. I can’t… I can’t fight him.”

With that, she turned and walked away, each step feeling like a dagger to her heart. Behind her, Harry stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, feeling utterly helpless.

Days turned into weeks. Y/N forced herself to smile in classes, surrounded by friends who were blissfully unaware of her internal turmoil. Hermione and Ron noticed her distant behavior but attributed it to the usual stress of school.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hermione asked one afternoon as they sat in the library, the dim light casting soft shadows over her parchment. “You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Come on, we know you better than that,” Ron chimed in, glancing up from his homework. “You’ve been acting weird since the start of the term.”

Y/N sighed, her heart aching as she thought of Harry. “It’s just… family stuff.”

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, her expression shifting to one of concern. “You can talk to us about anything, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Ron added, nudging her shoulder gently. “We’re here for you.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, though the words felt hollow. She wished she could confide in them, tell them about her heartbreak, but the weight of her father’s expectations loomed large.

Meanwhile, Harry was a shadow of his former self. He wandered the castle, the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders. He threw himself into Quidditch, but even the thrill of the game couldn’t fill the void that Y/N had left behind.

“Harry, you’ve got to talk to her,” Ron urged one evening as they sat in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling brightly. “You can’t just let this go.”

“I can’t,” Harry replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “Her dad won’t let her. I can’t put her in danger.”

“Danger? It’s just Snape,” Ron scoffed, but Hermione shot him a warning look.

“It’s not just that, Ron,” she said softly. “Snape is protective of his daughter. He cares about her safety, even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

“I know,” Harry said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

As the days stretched into a monotonous cycle of classes and empty smiles, Y/N felt herself slipping further into despair. The laughter that once filled her days faded into echoes of what used to be. She missed Harry terribly, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the coldness of her father’s expectations.

One evening, as she sat by the Black Lake, her heart felt heavier than the darkened sky above. The stars twinkled like distant reminders of happier times, and she hugged her knees to her chest, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked up to see Harry standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of hope and fear. “I had to see you.”

“Harry,” she whispered, her heart racing. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “But I had to. I can’t just let you go.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the sight of him, but the reality of their situation loomed over them like a storm cloud. “You don’t understand. My dad—”

“Forget about your dad for a moment,” Harry interrupted, his voice unwavering. “What about us? We can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.”

Tears threatened to spill again as she looked into his eyes, searching for any glimmer of hope. “I can’t fight him, Harry. He’ll never accept us.”

“Then let me talk to him,” he said, determination shining in his eyes. “I’ll make him understand.”

“You don’t know my father,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “He’s not going to listen to you.”

“Then we’ll make him listen,” Harry insisted, taking another step forward. “I won’t give up on you. You’re worth fighting for.”

Y/N felt a rush of emotion, her heart aching with longing. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe not,” Harry admitted, his voice softening. ���But I know what I feel for you. And I can’t just walk away.”

In that moment, the world around them faded away. Y/N stepped closer, her heart racing as she reached for his hand. Their fingers intertwined, and she felt a spark of warmth in the cold night air.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I promise,” Harry said, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ll find a way.”

With that, he leaned in, and their lips met in a soft kiss, igniting the fire that had been smoldering between them. Y/N melted into him, the taste of his lips a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost and what they still had to fight for.

But as they pulled away, the weight of reality set in again, and Y/N felt a pang of dread. “What if he finds out?”

“Then we’ll deal with it together,” Harry replied, his eyes filled with determination. “I won’t let him tear us apart.”

Days passed, and Harry’s resolve only grew stronger. He sought out Snape, determined to confront the Potions Master about his daughter. It was a risky move, one that could backfire spectacularly, but Harry couldn’t stand to see Y/N in pain any longer.

One afternoon, Harry found Snape in his classroom, meticulously preparing potions for the next lesson. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of herbs and the quiet hum of simmering liquids. Snape looked up sharply as Harry entered, his expression unreadable.

“Potter,” Snape said coolly, setting down his stirring rod. “What brings you here?”

Harry squared his shoulders, trying to exude confidence. “I need to talk to you about Y/N.”

Snape’s gaze hardened, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine. “This is not a conversation I am inclined to entertain.”

“Please,” Harry pressed, refusing to back down. “She’s unhappy, and it’s because of you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You presume to know what is best for my daughter?”

“I know she loves me,” Harry replied, his voice steady. “And I love her. You can’t just dictate her life like this.”

“Love is a foolish and dangerous game, Potter,” Snape said, his tone icy. “You are in no position to lecture me on what is best for Y/N.”

“Then let her make her own choices!” Harry argued, frustration boiling over. “She’s not a child. She deserves to be happy.”

Snape’s expression shifted, a flicker of something beneath his stoic facade. “Happiness is not guaranteed, especially in a world as dangerous as this one.”

“Then let us face that danger together!” Harry shot back, his heart racing with conviction. “If you truly care about her, you’ll let her choose her own path.”

Silence hung in the air between them, tension crackling like electricity. Snape’s expression was inscrutable, but Harry could see the conflict beneath the surface. After what felt like an eternity, Snape sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“Potter,” he said quietly, “I cannot protect her if you do not understand the risks involved.”

“I understand,” Harry replied, his voice softening. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe.”

Snape studied him for a long moment, and Harry held his breath, praying for a glimmer of acceptance. Finally, Snape nodded slowly, his face a mask of reluctant acceptance.

“Very well,” he said, his voice low. “You may see her. But know this���if you hurt her, I will make you regret it.”

Harry nodded, relief flooding through him. “I promise, I won’t.”

As he left Snape’s office, Harry felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Now, he just needed to find Y/N and tell her the good news.

That evening, they met by the Black Lake once more, the stars shining brightly overhead. Y/N sat on the grass, her expression pensive as she gazed out at the water. When she saw Harry approaching, her face lit up with a mix of surprise and hope.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, rushing to meet him. “What happened?”

“I talked to your dad,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “He said we can be together.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, disbelief etched across her features. “Really?”

“Really,” Harry confirmed, pulling her into his arms. “He just wants to make sure you’re safe. And I promised I’d take care of you.”

Y/N felt tears of joy spill down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Harry, I was so scared.”

“Not anymore,” he murmured, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “We’re in this together.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—a promise of love, happiness, and a future together. As the stars twinkled overhead, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression tender. “I won’t let anything come between us again.”

“Neither will I,” Y/N replied, her heart swelling with love. “We’ll face whatever comes our way, together.”

And as they sat by the Black Lake, hand in hand, the shadows of doubt began to fade, replaced by a future filled with hope and the promise of love that would endure against all odds.

[spearheadrampancy]

gamers i am going to be so real with you i am struggling BAD.

hey guys watch this im gonna spend the next 5 hours of my life trying to bruteforce a 2000 word, 10 source essay on the nature of uncanniness in video games and then im going to spend an hour and a half trying to figure out how to get access to a film on apple tv without paying for it.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

To Sail Forbidden Seas ~ Chapter 1

Synopsis: After a long voyage, Yi Sang and Heathcliff seek shelter.

Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights

Words: ~2330

Warnings: alcohol; a physical altercation between characters; food

“It’s not much further, now,” Yi Sang said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, who ambled along behind him, his head hung low as he clutched at the ragged cloak concealing his shoulders.

For a moment, Yi Sang’s gaze lingered on his friend’s hand, eyes silently tracing the tattoos inked into his scarred flesh, then he shook himself, turning to point at an inn down the road.

“There it is—Thames Landing … you’ll be safe there.”

His partner slowly lifted his head, eyes gleaming beneath his hood as he quietly studied the building Yi Sang indicated—it was a quaint, two-story structure, built from shabby wooden planks. The slanted roof had been bleached by the sun, and a makeshift fence, cobbled together from bits of driftwood, encircled the building. It was simple, almost rustic, in presentation.

“This place … good. Has charm.” The man spoke slowly, his sentences short, but each word was firm. Still, his brow furrowed, and he cast a questioning glance towards Yi Sang. “Safe … you sure?”

Yi Sang nodded, smiling as he motioned for his companion to follow him down the road. “At ease, my friend … I promise you Mycroft Holmes won’t lambast you with questions—aside from those pertaining to your stay, of course.”

The pair halted in front of the inn, and the man lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above the door. Even in the semi-darkness, he could make out a series of white letters that spelled out the inn’s name, the words painted to resemble a bridge arching over a dark band of water.

“Now, Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly, drawing his companion’s attention back to him, “while I can guarantee the Holmes siblings won’t object to you residing here, I cannot say the same for their other patrons—many of them are unscrupulous fellows, you see … the shameless, deceitful sort who’d sell you out in a heartbeat.”

His friend nodded solemnly. “Then I stay under cloak. Until you sort things out.”

Yi Sang smiled sadly, his fingers settling on the door handle. “Yes … I do believe that’s for the best.”

Taking a deep breath, Yi Sang threw the door open, and Heathcliff blinked as warm, golden light spilled onto the street. Hushed conversations tickled Heathcliff’s ears, and he reached to pull his hood over his eyes before following Yi Sang inside, quietly studying his surroundings from beneath his cloak. Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing ample light for those below, and a massive fire blazed in the hearth built into the far wall. A large, bubbling kettle was suspended above the flame, the steam rising from the cauldron carrying a mouthwatering aroma that reached Heathcliff’s nostrils from the doorway, causing his stomach to growl.

“This way.” Yi Sang motioned for Heathcliff to follow as he approached the bar, flagging down the man behind the counter. “Mycroft! Can I trouble you for a moment?”

The bartender glanced up from the glass he was drying, his face brightening when he recognized Yi Sang. “Well, well … if it isn’t the first mate of the Pequod, himself! To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure’s all mine—though, you could raise a toast to Captain Ishmael, if you so desired.” Yi Sang smiled, settling onto a barstool as Heathcliff melted into the corner. “She led us on yet another successful hunt.”

“Ah … Sherry did mention something about her going after another Whale …” Mycroft set the glass in front of Yi Sang, then reached beneath the counter for a bottle of whiskey, proceeding to pour the sailor a drink. “Now, what exactly can I get for you?”

“Well … my companion and I were looking to room here for the evening …”

Heathcliff exhaled slowly, tuning out the conversation as he scanned the inn—men crowded around large, rickety tables scattered throughout the dining room, swapping stories and downing tankards of liquor. Oftentimes, the amber liquid missed its mark, sloshing onto the floor, instead.

The harpooneer snorted, and was turning his gaze back towards the bar when something—nay, someone—caught his eye: a woman, the hem of her periwinkle gown trailing along the soiled floorboards, circled the tables, unimpeded by the sailors stumbling around her. She cut through the intoxicated mob like a ship through the Waves, her tawny hair streaming behind her as she weaved between toppled stools and unconscious men, scooping up dirty dishes as she passed.

Something about the way she carried herself intrigued Heathcliff—despite the chaos unfolding around her, she remained calm and collected, tending to her clients’ every need without complaint.

He shrank further into the corner as she drew near, his eyes dropping to the floor until she’d swept past. As her footsteps faded, Heathcliff slowly lifted his head, staring after her.

“Oi! You, there! You’re not ogling that lass, are you?”

Heathcliff flinched, shrinking back into the corner as one of the sailors staggered to his feet, scowling at the harpooneer. “Did not mean to stare,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” the man growled, lurching towards Heathcliff, who drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But you were, weren’t you? Bet you’re thinkin’ you have a shot with her, too.”

“Was not,” Heathcliff muttered, pressing his back against the wall as the man stumbled closer.

“What was that?” The sailor came to a stop a few feet away from the harpooneer, his face set in an ugly sneer. “Speak up, you bastard—no one can understand you when you’re mumbling.”

Heathcliff grit his teeth. “Said, ‘was not.’ You need your ears checked.”

“You think you’re clever, eh? You wouldn’t be talkin’ like that if you knew who I was.”

“Do not care who you are. Go away. Want to be alone.”

“Do you? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started makin’ eyes at the lass … now you’ve gotta pay the price.”

The sailor lunged forward with surprising speed, and Heathcliff raised an arm, barely blocking his fist. Swearing, the man struck out with his free hand, clawing at the edge of Heathcliff’s cloak, and the harpooneer hissed, attempting to squirm away, but it was no use—his assailant caught hold of his robe, grinning as he tore it from Heathcliff’s shoulders.

But his smile faded as the cloak fluttered to the floor, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the tattoos inked on Heathcliff’s skin. “By the Wing’s … you’re … you’re …”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the inn as everyone stared at Heathcliff—at the markings covering every inch of his exposed flesh.

“You’re from … the Middle …” The sailor stumbled backwards, clasping his hands before starting to beg. “P-please … spare me—I didn’t mean any of it, I swear!”

Heathcliff lowered his head. “Tattoos from Middle, yes. But I … I not with them. Not anymore.”

The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. Then, he straightened, his sneer returning. “You left the Middle? Isn’t that some kind of taboo?”

Heathcliff said nothing, and the man laughed as whispers passed through the crowd.

“Silence speaks louder than words, or so they say,” he said, grinning. “So, you ran out on the Middle, fully knowing the consequences … I wonder, just how much are they offerin’ for you?”

The sailor glanced at the men behind him, still smiling.

“Perhaps we should see about turning you in—we could use some extra cash, right boys?”

Murmurs of agreement echoed behind him, and the sailor, emboldened, grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist.

“Right, then … I’m goin’ to need your name—I’ll be givin’ it to the Middle, you know.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

The man blinked as a voice rang out from across the room, and Heathcliff lifted his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a woman striding towards them, her eyes flashing.

“Sh-Sherry …” the sailor stammered, stumbling backward. “I-I’ve gotta do this, love—if the Middle were to find out your brother was hiding this man, they’d kill him …”

“The Middle isn’t going to find out we’re serving this gentleman,” the woman replied icily. “You aren’t going to breathe a word about him to anyone. Right?”

“B-but … this is to pro—”

“Right?”

The man flinched as she cut him off, eyes dropping to his feet. “Right.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, nodding towards the door. “Now, leave, Victor. You’ve harassed my clients enough for one evening, and I shan’t tolerate your indecency a moment longer.”

“Sherry, I—”

“Leave. Now.”

Her words were like thunder, ringing clearly through the silent inn, and a shiver shot up Heathcliff’s spine as the sailor whimpered, slinking away. The woman watched him leave, then turned to the throng of men behind her, scowling.

“As for the rest of you … I trust you know what’ll happen if I find you’ve sold this man out?”

A chorus of soft “ayes” rippled through the crowd, and she nodded.

“Good—as you were, gentlemen.”

With that, the men exchanged glances, some smiling, others shaking their heads, before resuming their conversations. The woman knelt down, retrieving Heathcliff’s cloak from the floor and gently dusting it off before draping it over his shoulders.

“My sincerest apologies, sir … I do hope your stay hasn’t been spoiled by Victor’s poor conduct.”

Heathcliff blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her face—she was even prettier up close than she had been from afar, with sharp, angular eyes whose color reminded him of the sea at midday.

“Your eyes … like ocean.” He said finally, his words soft. “Very pretty.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”

Warmth bloomed in Heathcliff’s chest as the woman fussed with his cloak, straightening it so his tattoos were hidden. After a moment, she stepped back, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Now, then … how may I serve you, this evening?”

Again, Heathcliff blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled a response. “Came for room. Yi Sang … said it was safe here. Said Holmes siblings … accept me. As guest.”

“Ah … then you’ll need to speak to my brother, Mycroft.” She nodded towards the bar. “He’ll see to preparing your lodgings.”

“Yi Sang said … he’d handle it.” Heathcliff murmured, shuffling back into the corner. “So, I wait.”

“Is that so?” the woman frowned, brow furrowing. “Well, if you have any trouble, do let me know—I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.”

She offered him a curtsy, then melted back into the crowd, leaving Heathcliff staring after her.

“So … my sister’s caught your eye, has she?”

The harpooneer started, turning his head to find the bartender studying him curiously—only then did Heathcliff notice his sharp, angular eyes. “Your eyes … shaped like hers.”

Mycroft nodded, setting down the glass he was drying. “That’s about the only feature we share, it seems … well, aside from one peculiar faculty unique to our family, that is.”

“Heathcliff …” Yi Sang spoke softly, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “I … I failed you. I shouldn’t have allowed that man to expose you, and yet …”

“You have not failed me,” Heathcliff said. “You promised me a safe place, and this place … is safe. Even after seeing my tattoos, I am welcomed. Like you promised.”

Yi Sang was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Mycroft has generously arranged for us to reside in separate lodgings—and he’s providing dinner, on the house.”

“My sister will see to it you’re fed,” Mycroft said, chuckling softly. “Your friend’s in for quite the treat, Yi Sang … Sherry’s serving her finest chowder, tonight.”

“Please inform her I’ll be dining in my quarters.”

“Of course … and how about you, sir?” Mycroft addressed Heathcliff, raising an eyebrow.

“Eat in room, like Yi Sang.”

“Very well, then.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mycroft produced a pair of brass keys, setting them on the counter. “Yi Sang, you’ll be staying in room 212—it’s the third door on the right. And, Heathcliff, you’ll be in room 201—first door on the left after you climb the stairs.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Yi Sang murmured, his fingers curling around one of the keys. “Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated.”

“As is your business,” the bartender replied, winking. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen … and do let either Sherry or I know if you need anything.”

He bowed as they turned, making their way across the crowded dining hall. Heathcliff kept close to Yi Sang, eyeing the drunken mob warily as they approached the stairs.

“Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly as they climbed the creaking steps, “about what Mycroft said, before … you’d best tread with caution.”

The harpooneer blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The way you were looking at Sherry … if you truly do fancy her, you need to be careful. That man from earlier—the one who attacked you—he’s one of her admirers. And they don’t take kindly to competition from strangers, as you’ve no doubt come to realize yourself.”

“Was not staring for that reason,” Heathcliff muttered. “She stood out. Could not look away.”

Yi Sang sighed. “She does tend to have that effect … just be careful, alright?”

Heathcliff nodded as they reached the second-floor landing—ahead of them stretched a short corridor with four doors on each side, and they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Your room’s here,” Yi Sang said, motioning towards the door nearest to them. “If you need anything, you can always—”

“Call on you. I remember.” Heathcliff gently nudged his friend forward. “But I will not bother you. Not tonight. You need rest.”

Yi Sang stared at him for a moment, then his gaze softened as a smile spread over his face. “I shall get on that, then … and I am wishing you pleasant dreams, as well.”

Turning on his heel, Yi Sang vanished into the shadows, and Heathcliff released a slow sigh, his shoulders sagging as he unlocked the door leading to his chambers.

[ficsbyuzi]

All the ways lead to you - part 6

Characters - Aemond Targaryen and Inara Maegyr (OFC) in a modern AU.

word count - 2330

warnings - +18, fluff, pining, implied sexual activity

A/N- I love Alys Rivers.

part 5

Eight months ago

“Is the traffic always this bad in Old Town?”

Aemond asked his younger brother Daeron, sitting next to him, engrossed in his phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, oblivious to the world outside the tinted windows of their sleek black car. 

Aemond tapped his fingers against this knee, his frustration mounting with each passing second.

“Mm hmm..” Daeron hummed in response, “Told you it will take us at least 3 hours to reach the airport.”

“I have a meeting in the morning tomorrow, I should have..”

“..stayed back in King’s Landing and let Aegon attend here,” Daeron shrugged, unaffected by his elder brother’s exasperation. 

Aemond sighed and glanced out of his window, trying to distract himself from the standstill. There was no point in explaining that he was only stepping in for Aegon because he had drunk himself to sleep in a brothel and missed his flight.

That's when he saw her.

Two women were sitting in the back of a nearby cab. One of them was focusing intently on something outside her window. Her back faced him, her long dark hair was neatly pulled back. 

Aemond turned his gaze back to the road ahead.

 It was just some woman, stuck in traffic like him.

But as the minutes crawled by, Aemond's impatience grew. He let out another sigh, his fingers now tapping faster. Finally, he shifted to take out his own phone from his suit jacket. But then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a movement that drew his attention back to the cab that stood adjacent to his car. 

The dark-haired woman, wearing teal blue doctor’s scrubs, was now stepping out of her cab. Aemond watched her as she crossed the road moving quickly and purposefully, navigating through the halted cars. Curiously, he craned his neck slightly to keep her in his view. 

She made her way toward a large building across the road with a towering iron gate. A group of school children on crutches stood outside, looking upset. A few elders standing with the children,  probably their teachers, were caught in a seemingly urgent discussion. The woman approached them, spoke briefly with the elders, then glanced around as if assessing the situation. Aemond squinted, trying to make sense of it all. 

“What’s that building? A museum?”

At his brother’s question, Daeron looked up from his phone following Aemond’s gaze.

“That? Yeah, it's a museum,” he replied casually, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to go in and check out history stuff or something. We’re already late.” He chuckled and went back to scrolling.

“No..I..was only asking..” Aemond trailed off, eyes still on her. 

Suddenly, she headed toward the large gate and began to drag it close with effort. Aemond watched in confusion as she beckoned the children, encouraging them to step onto the column of the gate and hold onto it for support. 

It took him a moment to understand, but when he noticed that the ground at the entrance had a cattle guard with rolling iron bars fitted in it, the situation clicked to him. The children on their crutches couldn't cross it without risking a fall.

The woman now dragged the gate open as the children clung to it, carefully guiding each child across the cattle guard and holding their crutches in her arm. One by one, the children made it across, giggling at her as she smiled at them.

“Hey, don’t roll the window down! What if someone sees you? You’ll make the traffic worse!”

But Aemond ignored his brother, feeling a strange, urgent need to see her clearly. The noise of the traffic rushed in, along with the faint sound of a child’s laughter. He saw one of the children, now safely inside the premises, hugging the woman tightly. She hugged him back, her expression soft and relieved.

He watched her, mesmerized, completely forgetting about the annoying traffic situation. A faint smile ghosted across his lips.

“Inara! Inara! We’re getting late, come on!” a voice called out, snapping Aemond’s attention and pulling it to the other woman in scrubs standing by the cab, waving impatiently. A colleague or a friend, most likely.

The woman turned toward the voice, still smiling, nodded at her. She gave the children a final wave before making her way back across the road.

He watched her come back to her cab, unable to tear his gaze away from her face that glowed in the remnants of what she had just experienced. A warm admiration began to seep into the cracks of his dry heart. He couldn’t remember ever witnessing such selflessness, especially from a stranger to another.

The engine of his car rumbled to life, and the honking from surrounding vehicles broke the spell on him. 

As the traffic began to clear, their driver slowly edged the car forward, but Aemond's gaze remained fixed on her. He watched as she spoke to her friend, gave a playful shrug, and then slipped back into the cab, vanishing from his sight.

In just a few moments, she touched him deeply. Her face, though not fully clear from a distance, was etched into his memory, along with the wholesomeness she radiated.

An unlikely, tiny hope stirred within him - one that made him shake his head in amused disbelief. A quiet wish that the universe might find a way to cross his paths with hers. Again.

-

"I heard you were playing a knight in shining armor on the sets recently, gallantly rescuing a damsel in distress from a faraway foreign land," Aegon teased Aemond, drawing out the 'a' in 'far' for the dramatic effect.

Aemond’s attention shifted to Aegon from Daeron, who was sitting across the table, ignoring his plate of food, silver-haired head buried in his phone. 

Aemond responded to Aegon’s taunt with a piercing glare.

 The Sunday brunch at their family home was about to be ruined.

“How about coming to the production and doing some actual work, instead of sending Larys to lurk around and feed you irrelevant, unimportant stuff?” he spat back.

“Nope, not Larys,” Aegon said with a smirk. “If you want to be discreet about someone you like, then don’t fire the person who hurt her right away. That will only raise more suspicion, brother!” He giggled, fiddling with his food.

“Somebody’s undeniably smitten,” Daeron chimed in, unable to resist teasing his elder brother. Alicent shot a disapproving glare at her youngest son.

“Sorry,” Daeron murmured, lowering his gaze to his plate. Aegon chuckled again.

“She is beautiful,” Helaena cooed, her dreamy eyes fixed on something in the room. Startled by her comment, Aemond turned his attention to his sister.

“You know what?” Aegon smacked his lips and continued his playful banter. “I’m quite happy for you, now that you’re finally showing interest in women your own age.” Pointing his fork at Aemond, he addressed Alicent, “You see, Mother, I always thought he was only interested in history and philosophy, but he seems to have a taste for medicine as well.”

Snickering, he turned to Aemond, whose eyes now reflected a mix of annoyance and indifference. “Speaking of ancient things, how’s Alys?”

Daeron snorted so forcefully that the orange juice he was drinking shot out of his nostrils.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” Alicent yelled at her firstborn, her tone softening in the next moment as she added, “Aemond, please don't… stay…”

But Aemond was already picking up his jacket and car keys to leave. “I’ll see you all later.” He kissed Helaena on the head before heading to the exit.

“Say hi to Sylvi for me; it’s been a while,” Aegon called out with a grin as he watched his seething brother leave the room.

“You love doing this, don’t you? Ruining family time, always teasing him? When will you grow up, Aegon?” Alicent shouted at her son, who merely flinched and shrugged lazily.

“But he really is smitten,” Helaena drawled, stretching her arms lazily and drawing her mother’s attention away from Aegon.

 Aegon glanced at Daeron, struggling to hold back a smirk.

-

As Aemond drove back to his place, thoughts of his scandalous affair with Alys swirled around him like a whirlwind. No matter how much time passed, the topic would resurface. Today, Aegon, with his own questionable life choices, had the audacity to bring it up. Pot calling the kettle black.

Beautiful and mysterious Alys Rivers had entered Aemond's life six years ago. He had just started taking on roles as an actor and had ambitious plans to start his own production company. 

She was in her thirties and hailed from the Riverlands. After receiving a substantial alimony settlement following her divorce, she agreed to invest in his venture.

 Their professional relationship took an unexpected romantic turn one night when, on their way back to their hotel after a meeting, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. In that vulnerable moment, Aemond succumbed to her allure and gave in to their shared intimacy.

However, it soon became apparent that their connection lacked depth and genuineness. He could not cope with Alys’s disregard for emotional attachment.

“What is it that you want from me? Aren’t you happy that I’m fucking you? Stop being a whiny baby! Just be a good boy and enjoy it.” She tapped his face with light slaps, curling her lips in the intoxicating way he once fell for. She shifted to give him a peck, but he turned his face away.

That was the final breaking point for Aemond. He realized it was a grave mistake to expect love from a woman who had none to offer. But he was only twenty-one at the time and did not know any better.

Unfortunately, Aemond's production company faced significant financial losses as its initial movie projects flopped, forcing him to shut it down after two years of struggle. It was then that his father, offering his support, came to his rescue. Aemond wholeheartedly immersed himself in the operations of Red Keep Productions, devoting himself to his acting projects and the company's success.

He never officially ended things with Alys; their relationship was non-committal and toxic, built on fleeting desires. Instead, he resorted to slowly distancing himself from her, dodging her calls to avoid any unnecessary confrontation.

Aemond paid off all the financial debts he owed Alys, but she remained a festering wound in his life. She would resurface occasionally, either in person or as a topic of discussion during family gatherings, reminding him of the unresolved issues between them.

He gradually recovered from his dire straits, but resolved to guard himself against any potential romantic entanglements or business scandals. 

Having experienced both personal and professional failures early in life, he humbled himself. He began reading history and philosophy, immersing himself in literature to prepare for his acting roles. He started enjoying life on his own terms, with only a few people he loved and trusted—those he allowed into the tight circle he drew around himself. A few of them being Sylvi and his assistant, Criston Cole.

As his stardom soared to new heights, he paradoxically endeavored to keep a low profile and maintain an elusive persona. He evaded paparazzi and declined invitations for public appearances, except for the absolutely necessary and unavoidable events.

 Fans, particularly female fans worldwide, yearned for even the slightest glimpse of him or a fragment of information from his life.

Aemond Targaryen was a star. He could have any woman in the world, and she would be on her knees for him.

But he had begun to care and yearn for someone who had captured his heart in ways he didn’t think were possible.

Inara

Inara, who emanated wholesomeness and possessed a heart free of malice. 

Inara, whose face would light up with a radiant smile whenever she looked at him. 

He was keenly aware of how her cheeks always flushed a beautiful shade of pink whenever she spoke to him.

And the way her breath hitched , the way her eyelids fluttered when he had her backed against the counter the other day in the trailer, did not let him sleep that night. The proximity drove him mad. He exercised every bit of self-control to resist the urge to kiss her then, and he did so again when she got hurt a day before.

He wanted to pummel that extra actor into the ground, the one who threw the prop weapon at her and didn’t even bother to apologize later.

 But the ever-stoic and composed Aemond restrained himself. He had already shown more emotion than he intended, and it was enough to be noticed by people on the set.

He didn't want the prying eyes of tabloids on her or paparazzi to hound her just because of a moment of lapse in his judgment.

He didn’t wish to taint her with the complexities of the life he had chosen to live.

He did not wish to scare her away from his life, not when he was aware that she felt something for him too. The way her pulse had raced when he grabbed her wrist confirmed that she, too, possessed a fondness for him, even if she couldn’t yet articulate it. 

And he guessed that she might never say anything at all.

Aemond was mindful of the possibility that she might choose to return to her country and her family once her job contract concluded.

For now, he had begun to find contentment in the friendship he had started to forge with her.

He wished to know her better.

He wished to be more to her.

But his past haunted him, and his present threatened to jeopardize his future. She did not deserve to be dragged into the mess of his life.

If only he could give her the life she deserved.

-x-

Part 7

Taglist: @zenka69 @mamawiggers1980

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 10 2330 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

The shift in his demeanour is so obvious that the other man speeds up his departure. Offering the duo a smile as he ducks out of the door in silence.

“Hey” Bucky hears Y/N coo, once they’re alone, “Hey, baby… Look at me.”

Again, he’s not sure when he’d started staring at his feet. He pulls his gaze up to her face and watches her head tilting as she considers him.

“That wen’t well” she says, “I think you’re all talked out, huh?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking.

“Are you hungry, or do you want to just settle somewhere?”

I could eat, he thinks, But I, I don’t want too.

Silently, he glances at the door to the bedroom, and then, over to the couch.

The crackling fire is nice. He wouldn’t mind just curling back up on there. The bed had seemed so soft though. So warm and-

“C’mon, baby” Y/N sighs, giving his palm a squeeze, “Lead the way”

He starts moving straight away, but his steps are slow— careful— as he paces towards the entry to the bedroom.

Blue eyes catch her brown ones for a split second as he tries desperately to gauge wether or not she approves of his choice. He can’t read her face though, not before he’s overcome by a terrible wave of anxiety that prompts him to keep moving. He presses the door open, and only stops when he’s by the wooden footboard, toes by his discarded backpack.

“You wanna wash up first?” she asks him patiently, “or loose some layers?”

He withdraws his hand from hers, silently peeling off his t-shirt as she mirrors him, undressing herself and dumping her clothes on a pile in the corner.

“I’m goin’ to wash my face real quick” she tells him next, “You get comfy, okay? unless you wanna use the bathroom too?”

He doesn’t, so he just shakes his head a fraction and tries to console himself by looping his arms across his chest. One of his hands slips up, to paw at his chain whilst he inches himself closer to the side of the bed he knows is for him.

Y/N doesn’t spend long in the adjacent room. She’s back in under five minutes, and when she reappears and finds Bucky curled up under the blankets in their bed, she can’t help the way her smile splits her face.

“Baby boy” she whispers, slipping under the comforter beside him, “You warm enough?”

He’s so warm.

There had been more blankets than he’d imagined, and every single one is thick and soft and he… he can’t believe he really gets to stay there.

He doesn’t reply, he just turns himself over to stare at her face.

And then, he moves his arms, unlacing them from their previous position across his ribs, so that he can reach out for her, even though she’s pretty close already;

Her heart aches as his fists open and close in a silent plea for more affection.

“C’mere” she whispers, indulging him by closing the gap between their fronts, “Bucky, you’re alright.”

He clings to her the second he can. He loops his arms around her waist and holds her tight against him—

“I…I-just w-wanted h-im to know” he croaks, “I’m— I’m not the same.”

“Shhhhhh” she hushes him, hating how splintered his voice is, “He knows, we all know, we love you anyway, it’s okay.”

Hearing that pushes him well past the line of restraint, and before he can do anything to stop it, he’s bawling.

Weak, breathy little sobs wracking his chest as he hides his face in her neck.

“Today’s been a lot for you to process” she tells him, “You’ve done real well, I’m so proud of you”

That only seems to make him cry harder, but, there’s a looseness to it that makes her think it’s better for him to just let it out.

She strokes his back, pressing her lips against his head as he tries to just let the wave of emotion pass.

He blacks out before it does, his body giving in to the adrenaline crash long before his eyes stop streaming.

It’s not the first time he’s sobbed himself to sleep in Y/N’s arms, and she knows it won’t be the last, so, she just soothes him the best she can. Waiting until she’s sure he’s actually unconscious before she lets herself drift off, too.

Bucky doesn’t sleep peacefully.

In all fairness, peaceful isn’t exactly his norm. His norm is restless, it’s light and easily broken.

But that night, he’s particularly unsettled.

He’s tossing and turning so violently that he Y/N wakes more than once.

The first time, it’s a little after midnight. The room is pitch black, and his flesh arm has struck outwards, landing an awkward jab against her thigh.

Instantly, her eyes open, and her own hand reaches out to take hold of his palm.

He seems to acknowledge the contact, even though she can tell from the pattern of his breathing that he is still unconscious.

She runs her thumb across the back of his knuckles until the tension leaves his muscles, until he sags back into the mattress with a sigh.

The next time, it’s three, and he jerks his whole body sidewards, barely staying still for a second before he throws himself over onto his stomach. When Y/N blinks her eyes open again, she sees the way his brow is furrowed behind the curtain of his hair.

He’s grimacing like he’s in pain.

She wonders absentmindedly if he is. If one of the many internal injuries he’s had crudely patched together over the years is hurting him and that’s why he can’t get comfortable, even though he’s already asleep.

It could be his skin too, she thinks, or his head.

Carefully, she reaches out with the hand he’d been holding earlier. She touches the tense surface of his brow and hushes him as she smoothes a piece of hair back behind his ear.

“Shhhh” she soothes, “What’s the matter?”

Bucky twitches restlessly. She lets her fingers trace his temple as his nostrils flare with the effort of deep breathing.

“Baby” she whispers sweetly, “You’re safe… you’re so safe”

His eyelids flicker, his tongue flicks out to wet his dry lips, and then, silently, he curls over onto his other side, so that his face is back, pressed against Y/N’s chest.

She relents instantly, curling her arms around him.

That position seems to help him stay settled, because it’s another 3 hours before he rouses his partner again.

This time, she might have missed it, had she not been pressed against him so closely.

His jaw is chattering, and then, he’s speaking.

At first, it’s inaudible. It’s barely a murmur, but then, it’s enough to wake her;

“Please” he croaks tiredly, “Please, please”

“Buck?” she murmurs, realising what’s happening, “Bucky-”

“Please” he repeats, eyes screwed shut, “Please, I don’t— I don’t want to go, I—”

“Oh, love” she almost yawns, fingers curling across his cheeks,

they’re damp. He’s crying, she realises, he’s crying in his sleep.

That’s awfully sad.

“Wake up” Y/N murmurs, drying his face with her thumb, “Bucky, it’s okay.”

Her voice tugs him out of the dream he’d been trapped in a moment before. He follows it, like the light at the end of a tunnel until he can finally open his eyes, blinking confusedly at her face.

It’s still dark, and his vision is clouded by tears, but still, he can make out the way she’s smiling at him.

Instantly, he remembers exactly why he’s crying.

“I- I didn’t want to go” he tells her wetly, “I- I was with my ma and I— I knew they were goin’ to make me go and do… do those things again and I- I didn’t mean to-”

“C’mere…” she says soothingly, “…You were dreamin’ about your momma?”

His chest rattles loosely as he nods, burying his red nose back behind her ear.

She can feel both of his hands fussing with the blanket beside her waist.

“I was a kid” he tells her shakily, “I- I was in our kitchen… at, at the table we used to have, but, but then I— I looked down and I— I had blood on my hands and then she… she was lookin’ right at me, and I- I had this arm, and the… there, there was someone at the door and I- I knew I- I had to go and I— I didn’t want to— she said— she said I had to, but I- I wanted to say sorry— I didn’t want her to see me like this… I d-didn’t mean too—”

“Oh, baby boy” she says, the second his quiet rambling fades off into sobs, “It’s okay…”

“I… I… didn’t get to s-say goodbye”

She knows he’s not just talking about this dream. She knows how much he misses his mother, and how hard it was for him to accept that she died, and he never got to grieve.

“I know” she agrees softly, “I know, I’m sorry”

He doesn’t talk about his family often. Usually it’s a subject that’s broached on nights like this, when he’s muddled and still half-asleep.

“She- she was mad at me” he whispers nervously, “she… she-”

“She loved you” Y/N counters quickly, “Bucky, she loved you so, so much— She wasn’t mad at you, I promise.”

He blinks, shifting a little so that he can prop himself up and really look at Y/N.

A tear rolls off his nose as he sniffs, the veil of sleep induced fogginess starting to really fall away.

“I woke you up” he whispers after a beat of silence, “I- I’m sorry”

“No” she replies, shaking her head, “don’t worry ‘bout wakin’ me up”

His face is a picture. A heart-breaking picture.

He looks small, she thinks, like he doesn’t know what to do next.

“Do you want a hug?”

Her question makes his head tilt, like he hadn’t expected it at all.

His eyes are still streaming, even as he nods.

“Please” he whispers, ducking back down into her arms, “A… a hug sounds nice.”

That makes her chuckle, as she helps him snuggle against her chest.

“You get all the hugs you want” she reminds him, “Forever, Buck— Unlimited hugs.”

“God” he sniffs, “Even if I wake you up, doll?”

“‘specially when you wake me up” she replies tiredly, “you’ve had a rough night”

Have I?

He doesn’t remember. As he combs through what memories he does have of the recent passed, he can just about grasp periods of discomfort. The abstract concept of pain, and fear, and feeling restrained.

But none of it is terrible.

Not with the way it’s interlaced with her. With the presence of a soft hand to hold onto. With the feeling of gentle fingers against his brow.

“Can you remember if somethin’ was hurtin’ you earlier?” she asks, genuinely curious, “I didn’t want to wake you up to ask.”

“Might’ve been my chest” he murmurs, settling into his position, “it’s been achin’ lately, or… or it could’ve been my back- that’s been playin’ up too”

“Sweetheart” she coos, “Is it sore right now?”

He’s quiet for a second, considering her question.

“A little” he replies honestly, “my backs alright, my… my chest is just— tight.”

“tight” she echos, fingers fluttering down to trace the outline of his ribs, “Is it down here, or higher up?”

“Both” he whispers shyly, “-right… right there is, is tender, doll.”

“Here?” she checks, pausing, fingers hovering just above his lowest three ribs on the right, he nods, and she sighs, understanding why, “They’re the vibranium ones, Buck… The ones they had to fix after your fall, do they bother you a lot?”

“It comes and goes” he grumbles, “it’s just throbbin’ somethin’ fierce…”

Y/N can feel a surgical scar as she lowers her hand, she ignores it as she wraps her arm back around him.

“It’s worse at night” he confesses, “It all is— the achin’, I mean— it… it’s like when I relax it starts up.”

“Yeah” she agrees calmly, “because you’re muscles are real good at compensating— You’ve had a long time to practice movin’ around, and stayin’ tense to keep the pressure off your bones so when you stop, when you soften up, it all starts to hurt.”

It sounds awfully simple when she says it like that.

The smile he offers her is shy, it’s embarrassed because he feels like he should’ve figured that out on his own.

“It’ll get easier” she tells him, “The longer you’re out of cryo, it’ll start to ease off, love… we’ve just gotta keep you warm.”

“You’re doin’ an awfully good job at that” he says, aiming for boyish charm, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so warm”

Y/N just beams, tucking him in even closer to her front as she nuzzles at his jaw;

He lets out a long, audible breath, and tightens both arms around her waist.

“Baby” she murmurs, tone softening again, “You want to go back to sleep?”

Does he?

“Maybe” he answers, “is it early?”

“Mhmm” she says, “four thirty”

“Can I stay here?” he asks, voice muffled by the way he’s buried his face against the crook of her neck, “Or am I smotherin’ you to death?”

He’s half joking.

Y/N indulges him with a soft reel of laughter before shaking her head no.

“You’re not smotherin’ me, Barnes…” she promises, “Get some rest, we’ll get breakfast whenever you’re next up”

“Could…” he mumbles, already half asleep, “Could we make pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” she echos, curious, “Sure.”

“My… My ma used to make them on Sundays…”

“It’s a Tuesday” Y/N teases lightly, already considering the ingredients she has in the small, ensuite kitchen, “but I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll help” he drawls, voice slurring now…

“Alright” she sighs, letting her own eyes close, “Square deal”

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | x | 11 | 12

[kckt88]

Don't Leave Me.

Summary:

Vaera discovers that she is with child again, but soon after the birth she suffers life threatening complications and Aemond faces the possibility of losing the love of his life.

Warning(s): Language, Childbirth, Complications, Suffering.

Word Count: 2330.

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings & Ravenous.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“How could this happen?” exclaimed Vaera.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence Princess, but you’ve already birthed a number of babes, I’m fairly certain you know how it happens” replied Maester Munkun.

“B-But I took the tea” shrieked Vaera wringing her hands together.

“Are you sure you took the tea after each…Coupling?” asked Maester Munkun.

“Y-Yes I’m certain-“ stuttered Vaera.

She thought about all the times that she’d bedded Aemond over the last few weeks and she was sure that she’d taken the tea every time.

But it was quite hard to actually remember every single encounter that she’d had with her insatiable husband.

Even after birthing seven babes, Aemond’s blood still ran hot for his wife.

He fucked Vaera every night, sometimes more than once, in various positions, all over the Red Keep. Their love making was definitely not confined to their chambers.

Oh, wait. That night we went flying with Cannibal and Vhagar.

I took the tea.

Didn’t I?

Oh no.

I didn’t take the tea.

“Princess?” questioned Maester Munkun.

“I-I forgot to take the tea” muttered Vaera, her cheeks-tinged pink.

“Were there multiple couplings when you forgot to take the tea?”

Multiple couplings? Of course, there was. Aemond had a ravenous appetite that night. He had stuck his cock in her cunny so many times that she’d lost count. She couldn’t even walk straight the next day.

“Y-Yes. There was a few” mumbled Vaera.

“As we’ve previously discussed Princess. You and your husband are very compatible when it comes to his seed taking root” muttered Maester Munkun.

“Indeed” retorted Vaera.

Damn my husband, with his big cock and fertile seed.

“I don’t understand why your not talking to me” said Aemond as he watched Vaera pacing around their chambers.

“It’s all your fault” replied Vaera.

“What is?” asked Aemond, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“You and that big cock of yours”.

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Damn fertile seed that likes to take root” muttered Vaera.

“L-Likes to what? A-Are you with child again?”

“YES!” shouted Vaera throwing her arms up in the air.

“You take the tea though” said Aemond cocking his head to the side.

“Well, husband, because we have so much sex, I forgot to take the tea after one of our many encounters and now I’m with child again and-why are you laughing?” snapped Vaera.

“Didn’t you say just the other day that you wanted me to give you another babe?”

“I-I was in the throes of my peak I wasn’t truly aware-“ stuttered Vaera blushing.

“-So, you didn’t mean it when you said that I was the best lover you’ve ever had, and you wished that I could keep my cock stuffed inside you at all times?” said Aemond smirking.

“Oh, you-just shut up. Besides you’re the only lover I’ve had” snarked Vaera blushing.

“Even after all these years of marriage, I still love it when you blush like a maiden” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

“Is that all you love about me?” mused Vaera.

Aemond smiled and shook his head, clearly her husband was in the mood to tease her. Well two could play at that game.

“OH GODS. THIS IS DEFINITELY THE LAST ONE” screamed Vaera.

“You can do it my love” said Aemond as he held Vaera’s hand tight.

“I CURSE YOU AND YOUR BIG COCK,” shouted Vaera.

“Here was me thinking that it was a blessing” joked Aemond.

“NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR-OH SHIT” yelled Vaera.

“Come on my love. PUSH” urged Aemond.

“I AM PUSHING” snarled Vaera.

“Well done, Princess. I can see the head” said Maester Munkun.

“Oh my god, the babe has a lot of silver hair” exclaimed Aemond as he looked between his wife’s legs.

“HEY, DON’T LOOK” balled Vaera grimacing as another contraction ripped across her stomach.

“I put the babe in there” retorted Aemond.

“OH, SHUT UP YOU-“ screamed Vaera as she gave one last push and the babe slid from her with a wet squelch.

“A girl” said Maester Munkun happily as he placed the crying babe in her mother’s arms.

“She’s perfect” gasped Vaera, the tears streaming down her face.

“I-Is everything ok with-“

“If I’m not mistaken-” muttered Maester Munkun as Vaera began whimpering in pain.

“-W-What’s wrong?” asked Aemond as he again looked between his wife’s legs.

“Well-“

“-Is that what I think it is?” gasped Aemond.

“Yes, my Prince, there is another babe on the way” replied Maester Munkun.

Aemond paced up and down the corridor hoping and praying to any gods that were listening that his wife was going to be ok.

Vaera had begun her labours a few hours earlier and everything seemed to be progressing as normal.

It was going to be their last babe and as always Aemond was right by his wife’s side holding her hand.

But his sweet wife had surprised him when she once again delivered twins.

Both babes were girls, and they were absolutely beautiful.

Once the shock had worn off.

Vaera had held her arms out as she always did ready to receive their squalling babes.

Her smile as he held them close so to her chest, was as it always was, happy and proud.

But then the blood. There was so much blood.

It was normal to bleed after giving birth, but there was too much. More than Aemond had ever seen.

The babes were quickly taken from Vaera and pressed into the waiting arms of Myla and a midwife.

Suddenly Vaera had gone very pale.

The Maester's attending to Vaera worked frantically to try and stop the bleeding, but it flooded the bedsheets.

Vaera had now gone very limp, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“N-No Vaera. Don’t close your eyes” gasped Aemond as he shook his wife.

But it was no good. Vaera was now unresponsive.

Aemond was quickly ejected from the room and made to wait as the Maesters, and midwives battled to save the life of his wife.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

I can’t lose her.

Don’t take her from me.

I beg you.

Not my sweet wife. My Vaera. My love.

I can’t live without her.

Not after everything we’ve been through.

As the minutes passed, Aemond felt himself growing more and more agitated.

Nobody was telling him anything.

He needed to know what was happening.

Just then the door to their shared chambers opened and the Maester appeared, looking frazzled and covered in blood.

“My Prince”.

“Is-Is Vaera ok?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I managed to stop the bleeding-“

“-But” gasped Aemond his heart racing.

“Unfortunately, the blood loss has caused the Princess to slip into a coma” replied Master Munkun.

“W-What does that mean?” asked Aemond.

“Sometimes for reasons we have yet to understand, the body after certain types of traumas, can sometimes slip into a state of deep unconsciousness known as a coma”.

“How long will it last?” questioned Aemond.

“I don’t know my Prince. It could be a few days, a week, perhaps even longer. It all depends on the Princess and how her body is able to heal” replied Maester Munkun.

“So, it’s like she’s asleep?”

“In a way yes. But please be aware my Prince that the longer she remains unresponsive the more likely it is that she will never wake up” said Maester Munkun solemnly.

“N-Never wake up. She’s just birthed our twin babes, we have other children. How am I supposed to cope without her?” sobbed Aemond.

“I’m very sorry my Prince”.

“C-Can I see her?” asked Aemond.

Maester Munkun nodded and then stepped aside to allow Aemond entry into his chambers.

The bedding had been changed and Vaera had been cleaned and dressed in a thin shift.

She was propped up slightly on the bed, her eyes closed. It truly looked like she was sleeping, but her skin was pale and her breathing slow yet steady.

Aemond collapsed by the bedside and took Vaera’s hand.

“P-Please don’t leave me my sweet” sobbed Aemond.

She looks so peaceful.

“I-If you need to rest, then I understand, you just sleep as much as you need. I’ll be here waiting for you. Issa Jorrāelagon” cried Aemond (My love).

“My Prince” muttered Myla.

“W-What is it?” replied Aemond quietly.

“The babes” whispered Myla.

Aemond looked over at the snivelling babes in Myla’s arms and for a brief fleeting moment he considered telling her to take them away, that he didn’t want the babes anywhere near him, but he couldn’t.

It’s not their fault. I can’t blame them. Their mother can’t hold them right now. But I’m here.

“Give him them here” whispered Aemond.

Myla placed the tiny babes in his arms and then gracefully retreated.

A small sob escaped Aemond as he looked down at his daughters and noticed how much they resembled Vaera. Full heads of silver hair that was already starting to curl, and their eyes were the lightest shade of violet that he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry little ones. Daddy is here” muttered Aemond as he placed a kiss on each of his daughter’s heads in turn.

Aemond stared wordlessly out of the window, it had been over a week and Vaera had still not woken up.

The Maesters were attending to her regularly, making sure she was well taken care of and receiving adequate sustenance.

The maids would keep the rooms clean as best they could, and Myla was helping to care for the other children and the still unnamed babes.

Aemond denied all visitors and shut himself off from everything. All that mattered was Vaera.

He’d not slept properly in days; he wasn’t eating properly.

His normally immaculate hair was unkempt, and his appearance dishevelled.

My darling. I beg you. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I’m nothing without you.

Suddenly a soft knock at the door broke Aemond out of his reverie.

“I distinctly requested no visitors” snarled Aemond as the door slowly opened.

“Brother” whispered Aegon as he peered round the door.

“Your Grace. A-Aegon” exclaimed Aemond bowing his head slightly.

“I know you didn’t want visitors, but I had to come” whispered Aegon.

“I-Is anyone else with you?”

“No, it’s just me. How is she?” replied Aegon.

“Sh-She still won’t wake. What if she never does. I-I c-can’t lose hers Aegon. I just can’t”

“Hey, it’s ok” exclaimed Aegon as he put an arm around his brother.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he fell into his older brothers arms and completely broke down.

“It’s ok brother. Just let it out” whispered Aegon.

“W-What if she doesn’t wake up. I-I c-can’t lose her” cried Aemond.

“You won’t lose her” replied Aegon quietly.

“Our children can’t lose their mother” muttered Aemond.

“Vaera just needs time to rest” said Aegon.

Aemond had got himself into such a state that he was finding it hard to breathe, so Aegon did the only thing that made sense and began to slowly stroke his brother’s tangled silver hair.

“T-The maester said the longer she remains unresponsive the less likely it is that she’ll wake up”.

“Is she not responding at all?” asked Aegon.

“N-No. I even brought the babes in and laid them on Vaera’s chest, but she didn’t react at all” muttered Aemond sadly.

“Vaera will be ok” said Aegon quietly.

“W-What if she isn’t. She’s my soul mate Aegon. I-I won’t be able to live without her”.

“You won’t have to live without her because Vaera is going to be ok. There’s no way that stubborn woman would ever leave you” exclaimed Aegon.

“I-I just-“

“-No. You listen to me. Vaera loves you and she will come back to you” said Aegon firmly.

“A-Aegon” sniffed Aemond.

“You two are my hope” muttered Aegon sadly.

“What?” asked Aemond.

“I wasn’t a good husband to Helaena; she deserved better than me. I loved her as a sister, but I couldn’t love her as a wife. I used to be so envious of you. Very few people in this world are lucky enough to marry for love. Yet you my twat of a little brother found his soul mate. You and Vaera have the love that I’ve always dreamt of. Your my hope because I know if something as pure as the love you two have for one another exists, then maybe the world isn’t so shit after all” said Aegon.

Aemond nodded his head slowly and furiously wiped away his tears.

“I spoke to mother and she’s going to help take care of the children and the realm for a few days so I can be here with you”.

“You are the King; you can’t do that” sniffed Aemond.

“Yes, I can. Whilst you might be a massive twat that has a punchable face, your still my brother and I love you and you might not admit it, but you need me right now”.

Aemond took a deep shuddering breath and for the first time in days he smiled.

True to his word. Aegon remained by Aemond’s side.

Their mother helped with the children and kept the council in check, should they get ideas above their station.

Aegon and made sure that Aemond ate properly, he also sat with Vaera and chatted to her for hours about the most ridiculous of things.

Vaera had now been in his coma for almost three weeks, and whilst Aegon and Alicent entertained the children, Aemond found himself laying next to his wife.

“Vaera, Jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson, Issa prūmia, Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” whispered Aemond (Love of my life, my heart, my sweet wife).

Nothing in this world compares to my Vaera.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but please my love come back to me” begged Aemond.

I need her, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.

“I’m not sure how to cope without you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss your smile; I even miss your snoring” sobbed Aemond.

My precious pearl. My sweet wife. I love you.

"Please don't leave me"

[silent-moons-camp]

OC Introduction

Tagged by @silurisanguine from the Coemancer Crew - thank you!

Introducing: Kanan McCarthy

Fandom: Starfield

Role: Spacefarer, Captain

Basics

Full Name: Kanan McCarthy

Nicknames: Cowpoke, Kane (really only ever referred to as such by their twin sister)

Pronouns: They/them, not strict on pronouns though.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation and Titles: Freestar Militia Infantry (formerly), Shaw Gang Outlaw (formerly), Argos Extractors Miner (formerly), Smuggler and general criminal (currently), Constellation Member (currently)

Birthday and Age: At the beginning of the game (May 7th, 2330) Kanan is 37. They turn 38 shortly after. They were born on May 27th, 2292 in Akila City.

Physical Description: Kanan stands at exactly six feet tall (about 183 cm). They are physically active and as such have a sort of athletic build.

Clothing Style: Kanan wears masculine leaning clothing and mostly sticks to more "wild west" themed apparel. They are often seen in their signature red poncho and cowboy hat.

Background

As I don't want to spoil things, I'll keep this vague. Kanan was born and raised on Akila in Freestar space. Them and their family lived on the McCarthy Homestead just outside Akila City walls.

Kanan took part in the Colony War at a young age, having gotten caught up in the war propaganda. As such, they lied about their age in order to fight for the Freestar Collective. The Colony War took a huge toll on both Kanan and the McCarthy family as a whole.

Kanan went to college after the war and earned a bachelor's degree in engineering, having majored in engineering and minored in astronomy. They fell into a life of crime afterward, having joined the Shaw Gang for some time and then branching out on their own.

As seen in my fic titled The Man in Red, Kanan joined Argos Extractors about a year before the story of Starfield after encountering an odd bounty hunter in the Red Mile who wanted them alive.

They joined Constellation after encountering the Artifact on Vectera, and their story is currently being written in my fic titled Event Horizon.

Combat and Skills

Preferred fighting style: Kanan prefers mid to close range combat with guns, though they are not against getting very close and engaging in close quarters combat with melee weapons or hand-to-hand.

Favorite Weapon(s): Kanan carries a modified razorback revolver named "Penumbra." Kanan also carries around and prefers shotguns, but also keeps a sniper rifle handy as well as small blades.

Special Skills: Like any wild west gunslinger, Kanan is highly skilled at using pistols. They also use Starborn abilities (although they are not Starborn themself). Kanan is charismatic and knows just the right buttons to push when it comes to enemies, but also which words to choose when trying to de-escalate a situation. As they went to college for engineering, Kanan is well versed in various means of engineering, which includes spaceship building and design, outpost construction, weapon handling and management, and spacesuit technology. They are an excellent pilot as well, capable of coming out on top in even the most dangerous dogfights.

Relationships

Family: Kanan's father is James McCarthy, a former Freestar Ranger and former member of the First Cavalry mech division. Their mother is Charlotte McCarthy, a scientist and astronomer. They had an older brother named Owen who was also apart of the First Cavalry mech division during the Colony War. He was killed in the later years of the Battle of Niira. Lastly, Kanan is a twin; their twin sister is named Senya, a ronin by trade who currently lives with and takes care of their father at the McCarthy Homestead.

Kanan would later consider Constellation as their own "found family."

Love interest: Sarah Morgan. Before Sarah, Kanan rarely ever had any serious relationships out of fear of commitment. Instead, they often wandered from lover to lover and held many "friends with benefits" type relationships. One night stands are not uncommon for Kanan, though their more promiscuous behavior settles down once they end up in a serious relationship with Sarah.

Best Friend(s): Kanan is very close with all the members of Constellation, but finds a close friendship in both Andreja and Matteo.

Personality

Positive traits: Passionate, caring, ambitious, loyal

Negative traits: Stubborn, tends to isolate, reckless, greedy

Likes: Nature, animals, astronomy, books, Old Earth relics, exploration

Dislikes: Most governments and politicians, corruption, spacers, high-horse attitudes, cops, Neon

Fears: Being lonely forever, losing their family (both found and blood family), losing those they care about, another war

Guilty Pleasure(s): Smutty novels, Old Earth spaghetti western movies, whiskey

Hobbies: Playing guitar, exploring, reading, collecting Old Earth trinkets and relics, listening to music, cleaning weapons and armor, building spaceships, and somehow managing to herd ashta.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Christmas Ashes

by SiMo0n Tim observed the gathering from his quiet corner, feeling increasingly out of place. The laughter of his adopted siblings filled the room, echoing uncomfortably in his ears. Jason and Damian were arguing as usual, while Steph and Duke were caught up in a friendly bet. Dick was chatting with Bruce, and Alfred, ever attentive, was serving more food. Despite wearing the same handmade Christmas sweater as everyone else, Tim couldn’t shake the feeling of not fitting in. The warmth of the scene didn’t reach him. Feeling the weight of the distance separating him from his family, he decided to slip out quietly. Words: 2330, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Underage Categories: Gen Characters: Tim Drake (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown Relationships: Batfamily Members & Tim Drake (DCU), Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Tim Drake is Red Robin (DCU), Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Damian Wayne is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Slade Wilson is Deathstroke, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake Needs a Hug (DCU), Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues, Angst, Mentioned Ra's al Ghul, Mentioned Jason Todd, Mentioned Damian Wayne, Mentioned Alfred Pennyworth, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake Needs a Break (DCU), Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent via https://ift.tt/C43Qf68

[masterjedilenawrites]

A Silly Thing Like Sleep

Tech & The Bad Batch | 1.7k words

Content: one curse word, hyperfixating, "brotherly love"

Inspiration (from @rosemarynightmares): And someone should tell Fixer Tech to go tf to sleep, I'm sensing that he doesn't do that *nearly* enough.

No one could burn the midnight oil like Tech.

There was simply too much to do. Too many ideas, too many questions that needed answers. It's what he was made for, trained for, and the movements of his hands as they tinkered and fiddled and created, in sync with his mind as it mulled and mused and imagined, is what made him feel like... well, himself. He was grounded this way. Soothed, even. How could he ever stop for a silly thing like sleep?

A little after 2000 hours brought the first of his brothers into their room.

"Tech," Hunter nodded as he passed by. The Sergeant's hair was damp from the shower; he must have just finished training. "Don't stay up too late. Big day tomorrow."

"Yes, of course."

Tech only responded out of respect, his eyes fixed on the project in front of him. To the untrained eye, it looked like he was fussing over a mere black box. But he knew it to be an old surface isotope oscillator, a rare find whose parts held potential for so many of his other projects, or potentially brand new projects he had yet to discover.

Hunter settled into his bunk, pulling a sleeping mask over his eyes and jamming in some earbuds. Tech only barely registered the lights around Hunter's bunk going out. The Sergeant would be unaffected by his tinkering so long as his custom mask and earbuds worked, which Tech knew they would because he had made them. Depriving Hunter of two of his sharpest senses would be enough to keep him asleep.

2100 hours brought the next brother, Echo, just as Tech had managed to carefully remove one of the oscillator's outer panels. The clone eyed him as he passed back and forth a few times in front of the workbench in order to get ready for bed. Echo, unfortunately, didn't have much space to call his own and had to make-do with keeping his things in various places throughout the dorm, much to the chagrin of his disciplined and orderly habits.

Tech hardly noticed, keeping his focus on the delicate nature of his work. There were some wires, some chipboards, and several high-voltage rods he had to work through to get to the good stuff. Though an experiment on the device's stress-points would be beneficial, he didn't want Hunter to put him on laundry duty for causing an explosion in the barracks. Not again.

"You uh, going to be long?" Echo finally spoke up, having finished his bedtime routine and ready to slide into his hammock.

Tech didn't respond; he was in the middle of clamping some tweezers on a little microchip.

Echo shifted to his other foot. "Well, I'm going to turn this light out now, if that's alright with you."

Still no response. So Echo shrugged and flicked the switch that controlled the overhead lights to the room. There were still the glowing lights in the bunks and the safety lights around the door to the hall. But otherwise there was a nice dim to the room that made it much easier to fall asleep in.

Tech didn't even react to the change in lighting, continuing to transport various parts via tweezers to a tray he had set aside. After setting one down, he clicked on the flashlight feature on his goggles and continued, not skipping a beat, as if that was a step he was going to perform anyway.

Echo shook his head before climbing into the hammock and settling himself in for the night.

At 2330, Wrecker dragged his heavy feet through the door. He clunked down one of his weapons kits by his bunk and the thud did catch Tech's attention, at least for a moment. He looked up at his hunking brother as if startled to see another being around.

"You're not going to be making noise all night, are you?" Wrecker asked through a yawn.

"I'll be quiet," Tech gave a dismissive wave. As if Wrecker cared about noise when he could sleep peacefully through a siren alarm.

Besides, Tech couldn't control what noises these experiments would or wouldn't make. He had now set up a complex array of other devices and systems in order to plug in the oscillator's pieces and see what they'd do. He switched from twisting things apart and together to typing notes furiously on his datapad. Sometimes they made noise, sometimes they didn't, but that detail only mattered when the noise indicated potential backfiring. Otherwise he didn't bother noting it.

Meanwhile, the thudding of Wrecker's movements also jostled awake the room's other occupants, most notably Hunter. The Sergeant often tossed and turned, thought Tech had never understood why. His mask and earbuds worked perfectly, got his brother in the perfect sensory stasis to manage a full night's sleep, but there were still periods of wakefulness he couldn't account for. Hunter usually said something about an overactive imagination, though Tech didn't like that answer since there wasn't much he could do with that sort of information.

While Hunter readjusted and tried to fall back asleep, Wrecker was already conked out in his own bunk. The lights on his side stayed on for a bit, until Hunter finally pulled him up to turn them off. He paused on his way back to his bed, addressing Tech.

"Start wrapping up and get to sleep," he instructed.

"I will, I will."

That seemed to be enough to calm the Sergeant down and he eventually drifted off again.

Tech was now making trips between the workbench and his own bunk, though sleep was hardly part of the reason. His bunk was less of a bed and more of... an area, to house additional parts and manuals, keep certain hand-drawn configurations he hadn't had the time to transcribe onto a datapad yet, and of course, his great mess of wires that he'd pulled from the ceiling.

It was these wires he was clipping from, returning to the workbench, finagling some kind of rig between various bits and bobs, and then analyzing the output of data that resulted on his screen. He was starting to generate more noise as a result, but he knew Wrecker would start snoring soon and his tinkering would get drowned out anyway.

Just before 0100 hours, the last of his brothers, Crosshair, finally slunk into the room. Though the sniper wasn't purposefully trying to be sneaky - he really was just minding his own business - he still was so quiet and quick that Tech didn't even notice for a while that a third bunk now had an occupant. Cross stayed awake a short while longer, quietly thumbing through a book of some kind, before fixing Tech with a stare. He didn't look away until Tech had noticed, and then he promptly rolled over and went to sleep. Tech knew what the stare meant, but he didn't have time to explain why he couldn't go to bed right now.

No right now, he was knee-deep in his work. Literally. Somehow the projects had spread to encompassing larger materials and machinery, such that they had to be stacked on the floor around him for ease of access. He'd have to crawl over the table if he wanted to visit any other part of the room at this point. But he was done with his business in his bunk with the wires, and was now locked into the tedious tasks laid out before him.

0100 turned into 0200, which then turned into 0300. Tech was like a machine himself... going, going, going. Was he making any progress? Hard to say; he wasn't measuring things like that. Progress implied a goal, an amount to get through, and right now he was still exploring. One piece put into one machine produced one result, which got noted and thought about, before ultimately being tried in a different machine, while a combination of different parts were put into the first machine, and continuous notes were made, and new ideas were brainstormed, and sometimes whole minutes would go by before Tech's eyes felt so dry that he wondered if he'd even remembered to blink...

"Go the fuck to sleep, Tech!"

The exclamation startled him. In part because he'd been so enveloped in his own world he'd forgotten other people existed. But also in part because the one who'd yelled at him was the last he would've expected.

The flashlight from his goggles illuminated a very upset clone trooper in a hammock. Echo was looking over his shoulder at him, his murderous stare cutting through the space like a laser. Tech couldn't help but gulp at the sight.

"Uh, apologies, Echo," he said, suddenly self-conscious, and for good reason. He could feel the eyes of his other brothers trained on him from all directions now. "I... didn't mean to disturb you."

"Go. The fuck. To sleep," Echo repeated himself, his voice a little lower this time, but still full of punch.

Tech nodded. "I will, I just have to finish--"

"Tech..." Hunter's drawl came from the shadows.

Tech stood for a moment, looking between the dozens of projects he was still in the thick of, and back up at Echo who seemed ready to fight him if he dared tried to ignore his request.

Order. It was more of a order, Tech acknowledged. Accompanied by a warning from his Sergeant. He nodded again, this time more in acquiescence than before. He clicked the light off his goggles, plunging the room into true darkness for the first time all night. He gingerly set down some pliers he was holding and made a few clicks on his holopad to turn it off. Echo was still twisted around to face him, and he was sure the others were tracking his movements as best they could too. Though, Wrecker did end up letting out a snore while he picked his way through the piles of machines on the floor, so perhaps not everyone was watching him after all.

Tech shuffled back to his bunk and made a show of getting under the covers and settling in. He debated whether he should call out goodnight when he heard the shifting of the hammock and rustling of sheets from Hunter's side of the room. They were turning back in for the night. He was off the hook.

Tech still let a few minutes go by before he stuck his head under the covers and pulled out his backup datapad.

~ ~ ~

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[throneofsapphics]

against the contract, chapter three

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: d/s dynamics, guided masturbation, nightmares

word count: 2330

a/n: if anyone wants on the taglist please let me know!

<<< prev. chapter | series masterlist | next chapter >>> (coming 10/15)

That night, you laid up in bed, daydreaming about earlier that day, about the future, about them when the call came through. Your throat closed as you read the caller ID. Had you been sold out?

A shaky thumb hit the green accept button, convinced your neighbors could hear your heart thundering. 

”Hey babes,” you put on your best cheery voice. 

”Hi gorgeous,” she said with her signature sigh, as if everything was an inconvenience. “How are you?” 

It sounded like genuine care in her voice, but you knew better.  Knew what it meant when she dragged out the last syllable in a sentence. Genuine care meant she would’ve truly been there for you when ... you shook your head at the memories, refocusing on the conversation. You could play the game, if only to delay whatever news she was bringing. 

“Great,” you replied. Because you were, truly. Besides this call,  you felt fucking fantastic. Several more minutes of small talk passed, and you knew something was up. Her answers grew shorter, words sharpening into knives. 

”What is it, Ianthe?” You finally asked. 

”I'm calling in your favor,” the voice on the other end of the phone wasn't your childhood best friend anymore. She was all business. 

Three days later, back in their house - if you could call something this large a house - you knelt on a cushion and thought about the package and message you'd received the night before. The contents quickly made it clear exactly who it came from.

Folded neatly, the small piece of paper contained a handwritten note.

Tomorrow, as soon as you step through the door you'll be in scene. Kneel to the left of the door, there will be a cushion waiting for you. Wear your gift.

Looking forward to seeing you xx

You figured it was Feyre, Azriel and Rhysand didn’t seem the type to leave kisses at the end of a note. 

A black box with a silver ribbon, tied better than you could've done yourself. Inside was a butt plug, complete with a sapphire gem at the end, one you suspected might be real. You'd inspected it enough to know there was no remote control to turn on randomly, it was a pure and simple mark of ownership. You and your body liked the idea more than you should've. This was temporary, after all. 

A text message from an unknown number had come through two minutes later.

It's Feyre, save my number. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Three pairs of feet, walking nearly in unison interrupted your train of thought. 

”Right,” Rhysand tilted your chin up, mouth indenting at one corner, smiling the way rich people do. “Get yourself off for us, darling.”

-

The flush of your cheeks was pure gold to him. He wanted to strip you down to your barest layers, push you to your limits, and leave you with his mark. Since you'd signed the contract, they'd done enough research to make any spy blush. He'd figured out you had a track history of being watched, but only with others touching you, never anything with you touching yourself. Where there was a gap, Rhysand usually found something to exploit.

It wasn't hesitation, but a moment to process, he could tell the difference. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as trembling fingers reached down between your legs. Concentrated effort kept his own eyes from rolling back as yours did. Feyre didn't have his same control, a breathy sound escaping her lips.

Azriel, on his right, had his arms crossed, expression neutral. Rhys was half tempted to have all three of them kneeling, but this was about you right now.

”It's not going to work,” you said after a little while, hand pausing. “It never does.”

Rhys glanced at Feyre, she nodded.

Feyre circled and crouched behind you, not touching but hovering enough that if you shifted your body weight you would collapse into her. Lips just a hair's breadth away from your ear, Rhys couldn't hear what she was saying but watched the fruits of it. You tugged at one nipple with two fingers, rolling it back and forth, your other index finger stroking your clit more firmly this time.

With Feyre's words, Rhys watched your movements grow more confident

Rhys watched as your head fell back, the elegant arch of your neck showing, Azriel going very still next to him, one of the man's only tells.

Legs tensed, your hand slipped from your nipple to slap against the stone tile, your back arching. 

This, Rhys knew in that moment, was going to work beautifully. 

-

After that first scene, they took you on a tour of the manor, this time showing you more of the rooms as you struggled to commit them all the memory. It would take time for you to learn your way around this place, especially the grounds. Feyre mentioned she’d give you a tour of them tomorrow. 

You met them for a perfectly normal dinner, where they’d discussed a few more details. 

“We ask that you do not wander the grounds alone at night, our security detail doesn’t know you yet ...” Rhys let the end of his words drift off, and you understood the implication. Here, you didn’t want to be treated as an intruder.

“I won’t wander the grounds at night,” you confirmed. 

Rhys’s grin seemed a little easy, as if it was designed to put people at ease. It worked on you. 

You’d thought there would be something else to the night, especially considering how much they were paying for you to be there but that had been it. Looking at the giant, ridiculously comfortable bed in front of you, it was all too easy to dive right into it, burrow yourself up, and collapse into sleep. Another day, you’d think your way out of the situation Ianthe put you in. 

“I never loved you. You were a burden I didn’t need at the worst time in my life,” she sneered at you, hands braced on her hips in that very mom-like way. 

“Mom,” you - squeaked? Glancing in the mirror behind her, you couldn’t be more than ten years old. She’d always loved you, it had always been the two of you against the world. Why would she do this to you now?

“Get out,” her voice grew deeper, her face transformed. White stones - no, teeth - clattered to the floor from an open maw. Drop. Drop. Drop. Eyes turned black, and sticks reappeared where her teeth had been. “Leave. Out. Out. Out.” The last word broke through in her natural voice, cerulean blue flashing where black had been, a pleading and broken look. “While you still can,” the demon that had taken over her whispered in a sing-song voice. A door locked behind you and it tutted. “Too late.” 

You shot up in your - where the hell were you? 

Glancing around, you familiarized yourself. Elegant canopy. Black walnut furniture 

Right. Contract. 

The recurring nightmare had disappeared for the last few months, but you supposed a change in scenery could bring it back. Nothing strange, nothing abnormal, you chanted to yourself silently. 

A look at your side table told you your glass of water was empty. 

Earlier, they didn’t say anything against wandering the halls at night. 

Wrapping a silk robe around you, a gift from them, you tiptoed out of your room, the cold tile soothing against your bare feet. You’d woken up in a sweat, you realized. Unsurprising. 

A giggle escaped you, what would they say if they saw you wandering the halls naked at night? Probably send you back home, you sobered. That’s not what you wanted. Letting the moonlight drifting through the large windows guide you, you trailed a hand along the walls. 

Gorgeous. Beautiful. Serene. 

It was like that here in daytime, but you thought the night tended to bring out a special breed of person, yourself included in that category. 

You made it to the kitchen without seeing a soul, one hand firmly clutched around your glass. 

After you’d filled it nearly to the top, you slowly turned and spilled half of it on you at the sight. 

Azriel, in the doorway, looking like a shadow of death 

“Am I breaking a rule?” You tilted your head. A genuine question, not sass. At least you hoped it came across that way. 

”Not technically,” Azriel muttered, “just common sense.” The words would have stung if you hadn't seen how his mouth briefly curved up at one corner, a slight squint at the corner of his eyes. Sarcasm, or amusement. Maybe something about the night took away some of his stoicism.

He stalked across the space, his form crowding yours as he plucked the glass from your hand, shifting behind you and dumping it down the -

“What are you doing?” You squeaked. 

“We have filtered water,” he lifted it above your head when you tried to grab it from him. 

“Sink is fine,” you insisted. 

He ignored you and made his way to the fridge instead, placing the glass on a small shelf, and pressing a button. 

“I’ll take you back,” he said once he finished filling it. 

“Okay,” you trailed him cautiously. 

You could’ve done all of this on your own, and might have snapped back at him for it another time but you didn't want to push too far. If anything, you knew the least about him. 

“Why are you awake?” He asked, and it felt wrong to lie to him. 

“A nightmare,” you settled for the simple explanation instead.

“A nightmare,” he echoed. “I get those sometimes.” 

It surprised you to hear him share something so ... personal with you, but you wouldn’t take it for granted. It made you want to share with him. 

“It was about -” 

You stopped. No. That was too personal. Too much. The only living person who knew about it was currently trying to turn your life into a nightmare. 

He shot a curious glance your way, but didn’t push you any further on the subject. Why did you want him to? 

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