#I was bracing myself for a nightmare | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b00kdiary · 1 year ago

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Dreamer | Rhysand (I)

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs.

Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.

Warnings: long chapters, mature content (18 +) swearing, eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"High Lord, Rhysand of the Night Court."

I reach the top of the dais as my name is announced, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor and the sound bounces through the room, through the tense silence. No one speaks, they barely breathe, as I slowly turn, my face a sheet of ice as I settle onto my throne.

I let a nonchalant smile tug at my lips, the dark mask of a tyrant slipping into place as I eye the endless room before me. A macabre and dreary setting with its ebony walls and onyx ceiling, the beasts carved into the cavernous stone a mirror to the type of Fae who lived in this City.

I emulate the darkness as I lean back, my long legs spreading apart and my fingers curling into the engraved snake form that curves around the throne, the head peering out over my shoulder, my own personal monster.

I cock my head at the dozens of males before me, Council Members, my violet eyes twinkling in amusement as they all remained bowed, knees pressed to the floor, heads lowered and waiting for my word.

"You may rise," I drawl, my tone the picture of boredom, and as Kier and his peers rise to their feet, I see the apprehension and distaste on their faces for me, for my inner circle. Kier observes me, his brown eyes flickering at the prolonged silence. "Kier?"

"As usual, it is an honour to have you here, High Lord," Kier inclines his head, scurrying forward as he speaks, his own mask of reverence slipping into place as he stops before me. "As the steward of Hewn City, I am delighted by your decision to unite our two Courts through marriage, as are the Council present here today."

I see the way my Court stiffens, Mor, Cassian and Azriel all flanked at the bottom of the dais seem to go unnaturally still, the stones in their eyes wholly- unable to hide their disapproval of this whole arrangement.

"We all have our duties, Kier, the Court must always come first," My lips tilt in a mocking smile, and Kier shrivels under the tendrils of dark power that dance around me, an omnipresent threat so at odds with my amused gaze, "My marriage to a Lady of Hewn City will be a victory for us all."

Marriage.

The word tastes like poison on my tongue, any hopes and dreams I had once harboured turning to ash in my mouth at the cold reality I was faced with. To marry a female, I didn't know or love, to mate with her and sire a child, and secure an alliance with the Court of Nightmares indefinitely.

Heavy is the head that bears the crown indeed.

"It will be an alliance venerated for generations to come, I'm sure," Kier smiles, an ugly, wretched sight and I saw Mor shiver in my peripheral, an imperceptible movement, a conditioned reaction to her father. "High Lord, may I introduce to you the fine ladies selected by the Council."

I brace myself, masking my dread with an entertained smirk, drawing on the worst parts of myself, the worst parts of this place to hide the male that roared in warning to me inside. A click of doors opening at my left, and then several soft footsteps echoing into the chamber.

I stare, unyielding and silent, as several young women stride into the room, their heads bowed and back straight, adorned with fine clothes and finer jewellery as they stop at the foot of the dais before me.

They were fine, lovely even, tall, and thin, typical of High Fae female beauty and yet, despite their soft smiles and delicate frames, I frown.

"You can't be serious, even you wouldn't be this cruel," Mor releases a horrified, tight breath and both Cassian and Azriel step forward in unison, an impenetrable wall, as Kier's eyes turn to Mor and his lip curls. "These 'fine ladies' are girls, children, how old are they?"

The room shifted at her sharp words, Kier tensing at the accusation and the males of the Council muttering amongst themselves, their eyes burning as they glared at my cousin- at her supposed insolence for speaking out of turn.

"Their age is of little significance, girl," Kier sneers, that simpering fool mask he wore melting into revulsion and anger as he took in his outcasted daughter. My fingers curled around the throne under me as he spoke, that pit of darkness inside me churning. "They have all had their first bleed-"

"Cauldron," Cassian swore, his dark hair shifting as he moved his gaze over to those girls, and I saw his throat bob at the sight- so young, broken, pawns moved and used in a game of power.

"You're disgusting," Mor hissed, and I heard the pain clawing at her throat, her face pulled into a devastated frown as she took in those girls- and it was as if she were looking into a mirror, to the girl she had once been. "These girls are not chattel; you cannot sell their innocence for your own gain-"

"These ladies are being honoured, girl, an honour that you will never understand," Kier snarled, his emphasis on honour so clear, an indirect assault on Mor's character, on the choice she made to free herself. "To marry the High Lord is a privilege, one these ladies are eager for-"

Azriel's shadows thrum around him, restless, wild, and I knew his control was wearing thin the longer Kier spoke, the longer those girls stood before us, trembling under the burden on their shoulders.

"Enough." One word, low and sinister, and every mouth in the room closed, every Fae in the room turned utterly still at the command.

I grit my teeth, letting the furious power within me radiate into the room, let it dance through the air, brush against my subjects, let them feel the warning, the threat, that I was. I smile as their faces pale, flinching back from the vile magic, a reminder that I could destroy them without even lifting a hand.

"Kier, I am going to choose to believe that this decision was made out of sheer stupidity rather than insolence," My voice is a calm storm, but my eyes- they rage with a current of violence and death, the kind that made males twice my age blanche- and they do. "I will choose to believe that you did not invite me here to waste my time- you wouldn't dare be so foolish, would you Kier?"

I shifted forward in my seat, my eyes narrowing down at the male, and it took all the restraint in me not to shatter every bone in his body, to not pluck his eyes from his head and tear his tongue from his mouth- and he sees that desire to inflict pain upon him in my gaze.

"Never, High Lord, I would not dream of-" Kier barely contains his stuttering words, a mixture of fear, indignation and humiliation lacing through his widening gaze, but like the worm he was, he bowed his head to me in remorse. "It was a grave misjudgement, one that will not be repeated again."

"Good- I desire to sire a child, Kier, not marry one," I sneer, my disgust prevalent across every hard inch of my face as I turn from Kier, moving my eyes across every last council member, "Just as I am sure you all agree, these girls have many more years left to enjoy their youth, yes?"

I make the threat clear in my words, make them clear in my eyes- touch these girls and die.

None oppose me, their hearts hammering in their chests as they nod their head in agreement, subservient and controlled- and a small kernel of satisfaction fills me, that they felt a fraction of what the girls before me did.

"Kier, join me in the Council Room," I stand from my chaise, and as if it were muscle memory, every single person in the room falls to a knee and drops their heads as I descend the stairs. "Let us discuss the consequences you'll all face should you disappoint me again."

***

"Y/N, a union between the High Lord and a Lady of Hewn City is exactly the chance we've been waiting for," Cassandra pestered, her wide eyes pleading with me, but I ignored her again, choosing to instead clean the Council Room for the next meeting with haste. "It's a chance for change."

"Who are you trying to convince, Cassie- me or yourself?" I mutter, raising a dark brow at her as I tuck in the oak chairs, shoving them into place harder than was needed. "This marriage is a farce, and you're deluding yourself by thinking otherwise."

Cassie groans, the sound reverberating through the empty room, and I try to not laugh at her as she rushes around the endless table, her sea-blue eyes rolling as she stops beside me.

"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Cassie demands, her cold, slim fingers ripping the papers from my hand and slamming them onto the table before me. "With a lady from our Court married to the High Lord, we can finally hope, we will have someone on our side- to help us, to fix this Cauldron-forsaken City-"

"And who would that be?" I scoff out a laugh, a bitter, hollow sound as I turn my hard gaze to her, strands of my loose hair brushing my hot cheeks as I move, "Thanatos's daughter despises the Court of Dreams, Kier's nieces care more about fine jewels and clothes than people, and the other daughters are afraid of their own shadows, they would shit themselves at the sight of the High Lord and his inner circle."

Cassie purses her lips at my harsh words, and I frown, sighing deeply at the look of dejection on her lovely face, hating myself for snuffing out the light that had filled her eyes. But it had to be done- some people were not meant to dream.

"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know you wish it were otherwise, I do too," I force back the lump in my throat as I turn from her, hating the way my lip trembled and my hands felt weak, "But this marriage will benefit nobody but the High Lord, his court, and the males of the Council- that's it. They have never and will never care, there is no one on our side but us."

Silence fills the room at my hoarse dead words, and the reality of them, the reality that we were truly and irrevocably stuck in this life, in this cycle of hell made my eyes burn.

"It saddens me that you feel that way, My Lady," A deep, velvety voice rasped from behind me, and the air went taut at the unfathomable power that penetrated the room.

Cassandra gasped, something spilling from her hand and dropping to the floor with a deafening crunch. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself, all the blood leeching from my face as I turn- to where the High Lord stood, his inner circle and Kier watching on either side.

"High Lord," Cassie choked on the title, choked on her fear and before the male before us could speak, she stumbled down to a knee, her head bowed and her golden hair falling forward to shield the terror on her face.

I couldn't move, not even as the voice inside me screamed and begged for me to bow, to submit myself to him- for I had heard stories of Rhysand.

Of his abilities as a Daemati, able to shatter a person's mind without lifting a hand, of his ruthlessness as High Lord, reducing people to ash with a smile on his lovely face, of all the horrific things he had done in his five hundred years of existence.

And it seemed he saw it on my face, perhaps even saw it in my mind, the nightmares and tales, the horrors spread about him in the City, about the kind of male he was.

His violet gaze narrowed, the constellations in them beaming as he stared at me, as he cocked his head, his lips pursed into a thin line- as if observing me. I shook under the silent act, the unyielding hold he had over me, as well as the gazes of his court at his side.

"Y/N!" Cassie hissed under her breath, her head turning and her silver-lined eyes meeting mine, tears sullying the usually tranquil blue as she pleaded with me to move, to bow.

"Insolent girl," Kier spat, his gaze hard as he glared at me and the breath caught in my lungs as a dark eclipse of magic shot from him, striking against my stomach, hard enough that I lurched forward in pain and then another hit a second later, slamming into my jaw. "Bow before your High Lord."

I groaned as I fell to a knee, the impact of the bone against the polished floor striking through my whole leg and up my body, but that was nothing compared to the throb that burned through my stomach and the cut at my lip, the taste of metal filling my mouth.

I heard a gasp, a feminine sound of surprise and concern from above me as I leaned forward, my eyes pinched shut and every breath feeling like glass in my lungs as I tried to compose myself- forcing down the pain in my jaw, in my stomach, in my heart.

I heard footsteps and then the room went still, as if a blanket of ice had fallen over us.

"High Lord, she-she was being impudent-" Begging and broken words, riddled with fear and my eyes shot open at the sound of a sickening crunch, an agonised scream following it, and the aura of death filling the space.

"No, you are impudent, Kier," That voice again, but now it sounded different- the kind of mercilessness that could haunt a person's nightmares, that could be found in the darkest hollows of hell. "You do not touch her, or any other female, ever."

Another crunch and I recognise the sound now, it was bones splintering, tendons tearing, blood gushing and Kier cried out again, a horrible, strangled sound.

"Leave," The High Lord breathed the command, and I felt the floor shake under his restraint like he was funnelling his power down into the ground as an anchor. "and do not heal that hand, I want you to remember my words today, Kier."

I keep my head low, staring at the floor, unable to look up as footsteps bound away, fast and stumbling and I cringe at the sight of blood leaking against the floor, a trail following after Kier as he exits the room.

And despite the tendrils of pain still wrecking through me- I internally groaned at the thought of having to clean the blood up.

An amazed huff of air left the High Lord, it sounded almost like a laugh, but I didn't dare raise my head. Not even as he slowly sauntered over, his footsteps deliberate and slow, I didn't even look up when that trail of blood vanished, magicked away, leaving behind not even a stain in memory.

He stopped before me, and my heart thrummed so loud I knew they could all hear it.

"My Lady," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft now, like a caress of wind against my skin. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my eyes fluttering as I lift my head- to see the hand he had reaching down for me. "Please, rise."

I blink at the outreached hand, heat filling my cheeks at Rhysand's tender gaze, any whisper of violence or darkness gone, replaced by something so much sweeter. I gnaw on my cheek, my hand sweating and shaking as I reach forward, gently placing my palm in his.

The second our hands connect, something charges through me, bright and sharp and strong and for a second Rhysand's eyes widen, just for a second, but then he blinks at it's gone- as if I had imagined it.

"Thank you, High Lord," I breathe and his fingers curl firmly around my palm as I wince, my knees shaking and knocking as I rise to my feet. He whispers something gently under his breath, his head glancing sideways, and I sigh when Cassandra rises too, her slender frame curling back as she stands.

I crane my neck to meet Rhysand's eyes, and upon seeing my face, seeing the cut leaking blood at my lip, his expression hardens. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his large, ringed fingers still gripping around me like a vice, calming the trembling shakes that ran through me.

"I apologise for Kier's actions," Rhysand sighed, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly slipped his hand from mine, moving to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers pulling free the cloth there. My hand felt cold as it fell back to my side, but as Rhysand lifted the cloth between his fingers, my head hazed.

I didn't breathe, couldn't, as Rhysand gently brushed the soft cloth against the cut at my lip, soaking the material with blood and being so careful that I didn't even feel the pain stinging at the touch. I feel the surprised stare of Cassie at my side, of his family at his back, but nothing deterred Rhysand.

"I should be the one to apologise, High Lord," I stutter, finally feeling like I can breathe as he pulls his hand away, and I blink away the fog, clearing my throat as I step back, as I let the bubble, he created around us pop. "I spoke out of turn, and I should have bowed-"

"You don't need to apologise for your honesty or anything else," He shook his head, the soft waves of his blue-black hair shifting with the movement, and I forced myself to not stare at every inch of his handsome face. "I don't punish Ladies for words spoken in earnest between friends."

I nod, uncertainty and weariness shining in my gaze as I take in his intense half-smile, a smile that seems to brighten when I glance at Cassandra, looking equally as confused as me, and I shrug weakly.

"Though I will admit I am rather taken aback by your words, Lady Y/N," I shiver at the sound of my name on his silver tongue, at the way he cocked his head down at me, a purely predatory move, as he spoke. "I would like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter."

Hear my thoughts?

I go still at his easy words, at the question rather than a command, and Cassie releases a puff of air- like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to placate her aching lungs.

"What?" I croak and then wince at the insolence behind my words, a habit that I couldn't shake in front of the High Lord. I pinch my eyes shut at the way his lip quirks, and my embarrassment is worsened by the small chuckle that General Cassian huffs out. "I mean- I'm not sure that's-"

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," Rhysand purred, nonchalance highlighted in every inch of his muscled form as he tucked the cloth back into his pocket and grinned at me, like a lion before devouring a lamb. "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

***

"There is no one on our side but us."

The words were so hollow and defeated, the type of ruined that spoke of no hopes, dreams, or future, just nothing. And it was hard to explain what I felt at the words, like a sharp pain as if she had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with her bare hand.

She said that they have never and will never care- 'they' being me, my court, the people around me now and the ones left behind in my City of Starlight.

Sincere words, loaded words, spoken by a female behind closed doors, in confidence to her friend- and yet, I had overheard.

I wasn't sure what to expect when stepping into this room and wasn't sure what kind of female I would be confronted with. I had anticipated a female full of loathing and darkness, a kind of anger that would burn in her eyes, that could be seen through every breath she took, in every inch of her skin as she moved.

And yet, as I stared at the girl before me, I was met with the exact opposite.

The other lady, Cassandra, had become a shaking mess the second her blue eyes laid upon me, her breaths gasping from her as if everyone would be the last. She was terrified because that was all she knew in this city; it was all she knew of me.

But Lady Y/N was different- she was frightened by me, yes, I saw it in her doe-like eyes, saw it in the memories that flashed through her mind of me, the tales of my cruelty and brutality, the blood that stained my hands and the darkness that tainted my heart.

But she didn't look away, as if she couldn't.

Here she was faced with a monster that mothers warned their children about, yet she stared at me as if she saw me- and was as beguiled by me as I was by her.

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," I smile, the tightness in my chest easing as a stain tints her plump cheeks, and her chocolate eyes widen, "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

Her friend swallows, audible and thick, as if struggling to get down air and Azriel shifts on his feet, his brow furrowed as if concerned the girl might collapse. Y/N glances at her, and amusement fills me at the small, confused shrug she gives her.

"You won't uh-" She clears her throat, her hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and I watch every single movement as she tucks the silken strand over a perfectly arched ear, revealing the smooth column of her neck. "You won't turn me to dust, right?"

I snort, a short and amazed sound, and she gnaws on her lip, avoiding the cut there and I have to begrudgingly tear my gaze away when my court steps forward, my brothers half-smiling and Mor looking at Y/N as if she was as charmed by her as I was.

"No, no, Lady Y/N," My mask slips and slips until it's completely gone, and I'm glad that Kier left, glad that none but her saw me like this because it felt freeing, to be in this Cauldron-forsaken place and be able to genuinely smile. "No one will be turned to dust, on my honour as High Lord."

"Please do tell us," Mor steps forward, a small smile on her red-pained lips and Y/N's breath hitches at the eyes on her, at the attention. "Contrary to what you may think, we do care."

Y/N considers, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, fast and loud and endless, but despite that she lifts her chin and something raw runs through me at the look in her eyes- the bravery.

"I- I think that Hewn City is a cesspit, full of the worst kind of Fae and every amoral despicable thing a person could do happens here," She breathes, and her soft body trembles with the exhale, as if speaking these words aloud were exactly the catharsis she needed. "And to be honest, I blame you for that."

Surprise- it fills me and every single other person in the room.

"Y/N!" Cassandra gasps, and her eyes seem to widen further, impossibly big, latching onto me and full of pleading, "She doesn't mean that- she must be more delirious than anticipated from the-"

"Cassie, please," Y/N scoffs, a hollow and low sound, and the tension in the air goes thick as they glance at each other. "Someone needs to say it, it might as well be me."

I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pursing as they stare at each other, some internal telepathic conflict waging between them, in their eyes and despite my abilities, despite the fact, that it would be so easy for me to slip into their minds and wade through all their thoughts, I don't.

I glanced back at my Court, who stood just behind me, and their faces were contemplative too- not angry, nor offended, but shocked- here was this girl, no older than twenty, with eyes as soft as a doe's, telling us exactly how we have failed.

"Please, continue," I nod, and I hope my eyes are encouraging, because even if I do not wish to hear her words, she was right, they needed to be said and I needed to hear them.

"For centuries, the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams have been segregated and somehow we've fallen into two categories: good and bad," She swallows, and something aches in my chest at the sorrow on her lovely face, the burden, "But no one is born bad, people aren't inherently evil but growing up in a place like this? What else is there but the horrors we see and endure, what else are we destined to become?"

Another shaky inhale, a more broken exhale, and my magic burn inside me as if every desperate breath from her is like a call and my body is begging in answer.

"Your court has washed their hands of us, all of us because it was easier to believe that we were all damned than to try to help- the small minority have ruined the majority," Silver lines her hardening gaze, and I feel us all, every single one of us, go tense at the single tear that trickled down her cheek.

I hear a strangled sound come from behind me and my burning gaze glances back- to Mor, tears brimming her eyes and her lips trembling, watching the girl before us, and feeling every single atom of hurt as if it were her own.

"Morrigan was lucky enough to escape this City, these people because she had you- but do you truly think that she is the only good person born here, that in all these years, she is the only one worthy of salvation?"

More tears leak down Mor's face and Y/N's, endless, eternal, years of suffering in one single moment and I feel the guilt of my actions barrel down at me, a truth that I have spent years avoiding coming to light, like a thunderbolt to the heart.

I let my magic hold me down, let it root me in my spot- because those tears on her cheeks are tormenting me, ruining me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush them away.

"So, forgive me if I have no hope left, that died in me, in all of us, long ago," Y/N clears her throat, her chest rising and falling in powerful waves and my throat is as dry as sand as she wipes the tears from her cheeks, "I- I think we could have all been dreamers- if only you had given us the chance."

In five hundred years, the mask I wore never slipped, never faltered, never was hard to wear- until right now. Right now, as my gaze locked with her, as I saw all the horrors she endured, because of my neglect, I couldn't even find that mask within me- it was gone.

There's silence, heavy and long and burdensome for what feels like hours as I stare at her, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to do and I don't, I don't want to.

Y/N inhales a sharp breath as I stalk towards her and the magic in me dances and whirls and strikes through the air, dark and ominous and wholly powerful. My jaw locks as she grabs out to her friend, Cassandra whimpering as Y/N yanks the girl behind her- a shield, against me.

Brave- so utterly brave. Willing to face off with a male five hundred years her senior and her High Lord, to protect her friend.

A Queen in her own right.

I stop before her, so close that I feel her breasts brush my chest, feel the small trembles that wreck through her body, can smell the lavender and jasmine on her perfect skin. She raises her eyes to me, and I see every ounce of her character, her heart and soul, as she tries to not cower before me.

"How old are you, My Lady?" I mutter, and she shivers under my easy words, her brow furrowing at the non-threat. "And what do you do here, your role?"

"Twenty-one, High Lord." She swallows, her tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips and my hands clench at the sight, at the moisture on her pink mouth. "My father was Captain of an import chain for the City, I was given the role of Lady-in-waiting as a reward for his work."

I sense the curiosity and shock of my court behind me, the way they imperceptibly inch closer to me, to us, drawn in by my words- by the intention behind them.

"You believe the alliance is a farce, that it wouldn't change anything?" I ask, softer, and my power slips from me, curling around her curved hips and soft thighs, moving through her silken hair and over her sensitive skin- and she shakes her head, unable to speak. "What if I were to find a Lady of Hewn City who shared your sentiments, who desired for change and salvation just as you do- would that make you more inclined to hope?"

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her blue eyes widening- in realisation. And I felt the air tauten, my inner circle going still, knowingly.

But Y/N cocked her head, a youthful move, not seeing what was right in front of her.

"Yes, I think that you marrying a Lady who genuinely cares for this City and its people would be a step in the right direction," She considers, and I can't fight my smile at the tender, sincere, confusion that pinches her lovely face. "Thought I seriously doubt you will find any such female here."

"Hm," A lazy grin stretches across my face, bright and sure, drawing from the feeling blooming in my chest, raw and new and terrifying as I stare down at her, "I already have."

"High Lord? I don't understand-" Her words melt into a gasp as my fingers caress her cheek, moving ever so gently against that sore cut at her lip- and satisfaction fills me when her eyes flutter, a breathy sound slipping from her.

"I have already found the perfect Lady to marry," Her face burns as I run my eyes languidly down her figure, across her entire face and body- and she stills as realisation fills her, "All you have to do is say yes, Y/N darling."

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yaralulu · 6 months ago

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I’ve seen a few people confused on if Feyre really manipulated Tamlin and Lucien into distrusting each other by alluding to some kind of affair between her and Lucien so let’s talk about it.

It’s important to note that Tamlin and Lucien’s relationship was already rocky at this point so it wasn’t that hard for Feyre to cause tension and distrust between them.But still she caused some irreparable damage to their friendship that wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for her manipulations.

Feyre was intentionally being more handsy and close to Lucien because she wanted to stir up distrust and suspicion not just between Tamlin and Lucien,but amongst the Spring Court.By alluding to an affair between the High Lord’s emissary and his consort,the very foundations of the court started to crack.Also Tamlin without Lucien by his side is just a recipe for disaster and Feyre knew that.

Feyre wanted other people to notice her and Lucien being close.She knew their newfound coziness would be reported back to Tamlin,planting seeds of doubt in his mind.

It was my first time on a horse in months, and I was stiff enough that I could barely move as the party dismounted. I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me.Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse, none more closely than lanthe.

I'd rolled onto Lucien's bedroll at some point, any schemes indeed second to my most pressing demand—warmth. But I had no doubt Jurian would tuck away the information to throw in Tamlin's face when we returned: we'd shared a tent, and had been very cozy upon awakening.

But it was Jurian right on their heels, as if he'd been divulging the details of his surveying who smiled at the sight of us, knee to knee and nearly nose to nose."Careful, Lucien," the warrior sneered. "You see what happens to males who touch the HighLord's belongings."

So even when Tamlin wasn’t around Feyre was continuing this act because she wanted everyone to start thinking something was happening between her and Lucien.And her efforts were not in vain.Her plan worked..a little too well even.

"You don't act that way with Feyre." A silk-wrapped threat. "You're mistaken.” "Am I?" Twigs and leaves crunched, as if she was circling him. "You put your hands all over her." I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I'd found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin's presence.

Then we have the infamous nightmare scene.The whole thing was a set up so that Tamlin would catch his bestfriend and Feyre in a compromising position after he’d probably already heard rumors about them.She wanted Tamlin to start questioning Lucien and his intentions.

I had no doubt Tamlin was now running through every look and conversation since then. Every time Lucien had intervened on my behalf, both Under the Mountain and afterward. Weighing how much that new mating bond with Elain held sway over his friend.

By planting doubt and suspicion in Tamlin’s mind,Feyre’s schemes worked and Tamlin and Lucien’s friendship suffered.

Tamlin and Lucien, it seemed, had spoken before the meal, but the latter made a point to keep a healthy distance from me. To not look at or speak to me, as if still needing to convince Tamlin of our innocence.

I hauled myself into the canvas tent when the fire was dying out, the space barely big enough for Lucien and me to sleep shoulder to shoulder. "Maybe I should sleep out there." I rolled my eyes. "Please."A wary, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. "You know Tamlin can be ...sensitive about things."

So yeah everything Feyre did was intentional and with purpose.She used Lucien to make Tamlin jealous therefore condemning their friendship.She roped him into her schemes which ended up having detrimental effects not just on his relationship with Tamlin but on his entire reputation in Spring.And sure Tamlin and Lucien’s friendship was already not the greatest but Feyre made things exponentially so much worse.

#literally nobody cares about this but me #nobody is reading all this but hey i haven’t made a lengthy post in a while #i used to do them a lot this was fun #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #tamlin acotar #pro tamlin #feyre critical #spring court #feycien #feyre babe i’m never forgiving you for this i fear.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 month ago

Text

When Darkness Falls

Orestes x afab!Monster!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 16: Public Sex

Summary: After Orestes and his men are captured by a strange group, the punishment seems unusual.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! I don't know how my mind turned 'public sex' into this.

Warnings: Monster!Reader (werewolf-y), swearing, p in v sex, injuries, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1850

Orestes winced as the guard pressed against his injured shoulder and forced him to his knees. His wrists were bound behind his back, so tightly that the rope was cutting off the blood supply to his fingers.

“You are accused of trespassing on our lands. From taking fruit from the Hylopius tree.” The man bellowed, he was dressed in dark blue robes finely woven. Seven others, presumably nobles and the jury, stood to his side.

“My men and I were lost, we took shelter from the storm. We did not know these were your lands,” Orestes tries to keep his tone strong and even, to keep his chin high as he answers. “We-”

“Ignorance is not an excuse.” He snarls. “You pillage, and take. But you are far from your Rome now. Your crimes will not go unpunished.”

Orestes breathes deeply. “Please, my men, they are innocent in this. I will take the punishment, if you let-”

“You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I am not demanding, I am-” The leader gestures with his hand and Orestes winces in pain as the guard presses against the wound in his temple.

“Your men fought back against our soldiers, they are as guilty as you are. I will cast punishment on you all.” He grins wickedly. “The Lycan’s Pit.”

The noblemen laugh.

Orestes is dragged to his feet and pulled from the room, “What, what is that? What do you speak of?”

The guards do not answer as he is taken into a large hall beautifully decorated in fine mosaic. The images of torn bodies and blood, of huge creatures with red eyes shaped like the beasts of childhood nightmares painstakingly crafted. There are rows of seats carved into the walls, the layout reminiscent of a small scale colosseum, able to hold around 50 people.

In the centre of the room was a circle pit that seemed to travel into the depths of the earth itself.

“They will feast on your flesh.” The leader laughs.

“Wait-” A loud gong of a bell echoes out, cutting off his words as he is thrown into the middle of the room next to the pit, he grunts, managing to get to his knees as the guards bring out thorned branches layered with silver chains. They arrange them around the outside of the floor, a barrier from the seats and Orestes.

“What is that?” He asks.

The nobles take seats as the guards stand to attention, more people flood in, all equally dressed in finery and sit.

“The Lycans cannot cross the barrier.” The leader laughs, like he was explaining a basic concept.

“I wonder who will join us today?” One nobel asks another.

“I hope it is Baral. He is the most vicious. I want to see him tear the roman apart.”

Orestes swallows thickly, pulling at the ropes. If he could just…

There is a low growl from the pit. A deep and terrible snap of teeth.

He freezes despite myself when a large clawed hand grabs hold of the side. It‘s huge, the palm alone bigger than his head, some kind of mix between a human and a wolf.

Slowly the creature pulls itself up and out, snarling with rows of sharp teeth and blood red eyes.

He wants to scream. But he can’t move, can’t think.

A hush falls on the nobles as the creature appears and stalks around to Orestes.

He seems to snap back to reality, and struggles to stand, to run, to defend himself, to-

The creature lunges forward and on top of him.

He closes his eyes, bracing for the sharp stink of ripping claws and teeth. But it doesn’t come.

He breathes deeply, raggedly, his heart pounding in his temples and slowly opens his eyes.

It’s dark, like he’s in a cave. It takes a moment for him to realise that the cave is fur. The creature seemingly, somehow draped over him to make a small tent like space.

He sits up a little, his shoulder brushing the fur. It’s soft and warm, moving a little with the creature's breath.

“Hello.”

He jumps, pushing himself back further against the fur and you giggle.

“I am sorry to scare you.”

Orestes blinks heavily, you’re sitting opposite him crouched with a large smile on your face. He can see your canines, larger than a person’s should be, and your eyes deep and red. But beautiful, oh so painfully beautiful.

You give him a little wave and he nods his head.

“They tied you?” Your voice is sweet and gentle.

He nods again.

You tut and carefully edge forward.

He swallows, sucking in a breath in spite of himself, you move like running water, swift and mesmerising, your body completely naked.

You watch him as you move, careful for any signs of distress like he was an injured rabbit in a trap.

You reach back and cut the ropes with your sharp nails that retract a little when you are finished.

“There you go.” “Thank you.” He mutters, staring bewitched as you move back a fraction but remain close. “There is a creature, a…”

You smile. He knows it’s you.

“Where are we?” He swallows, rubbing life back into his fingers.

“We are not where you were.”

“Am I dead?”

You shake your head. “We will have to return there, shortly. Here is just to talk for a moment.” You touch his temple, the gooey blood on his skin.

He flinches but doesn’t pull away when he realises your touch is gentle.

“Are you going to kill me?” He breathes, watching you intently. His heart is still beating fast, his muscles tingling with adrenaline. But he doesn’t want to run or fight, he wants… he wants to…

“No.” You smile, taking your fingers to your lips and licking off his blood.

“Why?” He asks without thinking.

You laugh lightly. “You smell… nice.”

“Nice?” His mouth twitches upwards, surprised.

You nod, leaning a little forward. “You don’t smell like food.” You whisper.

Orestes swallows. He can’t help himself, can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours in a rush.

You lick into his mouth and he tastes his own blood on your tongue. He groans, lightheaded and needy as he presses himself closer.

He whines when you pull back a fraction, smiling. “You smell like a mate.”

Orestes nods desperately. “Please.”

“Do you accept me?”

He nods rapidly, pushing himself closer to you again. His cock aches between his legs, pressing against his clothing and begging to be freed.

“In any form?”

“In any form.” He mutters. “Please.”

You grin.

In a blink of his eyes, he is back in the mosaic hall, flat on his back. The nobles watching as the creature, you, lean over him, your teeth so close to snapping into the flesh of his neck.

He turns his head, touches your soft fur with his free hands. “Please.”

You let out a soft growl, the sound vibrating through his chest.

There’s some quiet murmuring from the crowd, anticipation as they think he’s about to get eaten alive.

With one clawed hand, you lightly dip under his clothing, ripping it in two clean down the middle.

Orestes gasps, biting his lip as you bow your head down and lick a broad flat stripe with your thick tongue. You start between his legs, rising up his body until you flick just under his jaw.

He groans, his eyes rolling back as he squirms under you, your strong form keeping him pressed down and at your mercy.

There are a few confused whispers, surprised at how he seems to be enjoying himself.

His cock is already painfully hard, throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. You nuzzle at his neck, your breath hot on his skin as you lay yourself fully over him, moving your legs and taking his length inside yourself.

Orestes gasps, moaning loudly as he sinks inside. He claws at your fur, trying to pull you closer as he shakes. It feels so good, liquid pleasure running up his spine as he fills you that practically paralyses him in place.

His cry of passion is almost indistinguishable from one of pain, and at first, the crowd thinks he has been split open.

You growl and he shivers as you rock your hips. It’s like you’re everywhere, touching him with claws and teeth and nails and hands. He can feel your lips on his thighs and stomach, fur and skin on his chest, both forms seemingly at once as you increase your pace.

It’s electric, addicting as you devour him; mind, and body, and soul.

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” he moans, uncaring of the many eyes watching him hurtling rapidly to his release. Your heat squeezes him, caresses him, lets him sink deeper into mind numbing pleasure.

“Please,” he sobs, he wants to call your name but he realises, painfully, that he hadn’t asked for it, instead he pulls at your fur, at your shoulders, at any part of you he can reach.

You snap your teeth and it sounds like a chuckle before you lick along his neck and drag your canines along his skin.

“My heart,” he whispers, his voice strained, “I’m, I’m close.” He doesn’t want this to stop, to ever end. But he can feel his body racing towards his climax like an unbridled horse. His hips buck, his balls tightened.

You rock faster, you slick running down and coating his skin as your warmth begs for his release. In this form, you need his pleasure desperately. Can only have your own as he experiences his.

He whines, crying out beautifully as his back arches. He comes loudly, shivering and sobbing as he empties into you, giving you every single part of himself.

Pleasure rushes along your veins, embeds in your bones and you howl, long and hard as you come with him.

You lick into his mouth, cradling him as he nuzzles against you.

“Foolish beast!” The leader yells, shouting for the guards.

One hurls a spear at you that clatters off your form as if it was a rain drop. But Orestes flinches.

And you snarl.

You turn quickly, jumping from him and barreling through the barrier that does absolutely nothing to stop you. You rip the guards and nobles to pieces in a matter of seconds, moving faster than they can fathom as they scream in terror. How dare they threaten him, your mate.

You blink, the rage dulling.

Slowly, you turn back to Orestes, worried for a second about your outburst until you see his soft eyes as he reaches out for you. You move back to him, nuzzling your face into his palm.

He kisses your nose, your cheek, licking some of the sprayed blood from your fur as you embrace him, laying him back down under you protectively.

“I did not ask for your name, my love.” He whispers softly and smiles when you mutter it against his ear. He repeats it slowly with undying affection.

Thank you for reading!

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#orestes #agora #orestes x reader #x reader #orestes x you #x you #orestes x female reader #x female reader #orestes x f!reader #x f!reader #orestes x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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emotionallyattachednerd · 1 year ago

Text

Unforeseen Reunion | TP Ratchet x Drift/Deadlock | NSFW 18+

Word count: 7000+ 😲

Warnings: Smut ( valve and plug interfacing ), mentions of violence, near death experiance and angst. NSFW 18+.

Notes: So yeah, I lost complete control of myself. Holy crap, I'm impressed with myself. I decided I wanted to go with Prime universe as that's what my hyperfixation went with. I didn't completely focus on canon just so everyone is aware. I had way too much fun with this and I'm so obsessed with these two. Enjoy this work of art you beautiful sinners. 🥰

The crash landing was the sign that his luck had run out. Deadlock had been travelling for far too long, isolated in his barely hanging on ship without contact, that's until he managed to receive a transmission from decepticons. He should've been pleased, yet he didn't feel it, just emptiness.

It wasn't until he hit the earth's atmosphere that his ship decided it had enough, power shut off and he came plummeting towards the earth. He tried gaining control but that failed so he tried contacting the decepticons requesting assistance, but even that was a deadend. No help was coming for him.

Bracing for impact he thought he might have a chance but the rough landing was much harsher than expected, throwing him around and a sharp piece of metal punctured through him, slicing his fuel tank and severed a fuel line. Terrific.

Deadlock manages to get himself out of his piece of scrap ship and take a few steps forward, only to collapse onto the ground with a pained grunt and look down at his servo that held his wounded area to see a lot of energon was leaking from him. He can't help but let out a vented chuckle, convinced this was going to be it for him.

Only managing to get a short distance away from the crash site he couldn't walk anymore and slid his back down against a tree, venting out heavily as if a pressure was lifted from him. He knew though, his systems were struggling, warnings flashing before his optics, it won't be long before he shuts down and slowly offline from bleeding out. One more time he tried making contact but got nothing in return. Either his com links weren't working or they didn't care about him.

There used to be someone in his life who was very dear to him. He saved his life after getting himself hooked up on circuit boosters, gave him a chance, and he stayed with him. He loved him with all his spark, then the war started and that's where it all went wrong.

Eventually he would make choices and every choice has a price. Whether it was worth it or not, Deadlock never wanted to answer that himself.

He was one of Megatron's favourites. He's the one who gave him his new name and grew from that back on cybertron. He thought he was making the right choice, but he was wrong, and he's had to live with that all this time. He became emotionless, making him willing to kill when needed or ordered, leaving a trail of horrors behind which was enough to make any autobot and decepticon worst nightmare.

Now, he was dying, alone. Just as he deserved.

Leaning himself against the tree all he could do was observe his surroundings, take in what might be his last memories. Everything grew weaker, more burned out as his fuel tank pumped harshly to get energon through him, only for it to leak out.

His audios managed to pick up some sounds of a ground bridge. Had they finally decided to show pity and come for him? He onlines his hazy optics only to be met with the end of a blaster and an autobot symbol.

"Oh just my luck." Deadlock manages to say between harsh vents. "An autobot gets to watch me die in my final moments....or, you can take the shot, put me out of my misery?"

"Is that what you want?" Arcee keeps her guard up and weapons ready, not wanting to give him any chance to attack if he was faking.

"Does it matter what I want?"

"No, it doesn't." Bulkhead comes up behind, forcing Deadlock to move his helm up to look at him.

"Well you're a big one." He casually smirks through his pain. "So, what's it going to be? What's the...autobot thing to do?"

Arcee and Bulkhead had been sent to investigate the crash sight after it made impact. They knew it was a decepticon shuttle but weren't sure if it was occupied. Upon arrival it's confirmed. Neither wanted to let their guard down just in case he had any tricks or if the decepticons might show up.

"What do you think?" Bulkhead asks Arcee, unsure what they should do. Letting him die without them helping didn't seem right, but he was a con.

"Let's call Optimus, see what he has to say." Arcee answers.

Deadlock heard the autobot leader's name causing him to let out another vented chuckle. "Your big boss is here? Huh. Alright, call him, see if he has mercy on a filthy con." He was just talking, it's all he can do for his final moments.

While Bulkhead makes the call Arcee keeps her optics on him with her blaster still drawn. "You got a name?"

The big ask. "If I told you...you're going to wish you pulled the trigger." He decided to not say his name. If she found out, she might just pull the trigger on him without hesitation, not that he cared.

"I don't recognize you. You're not someone I've bumped into before, and I remember every bot I have. So who are you?"

"How about you tell me your name first?" Deadlock manages to tilt his helm to the side as he meets her optics, letting out a smirk when all she gives is silence, his pearly white dentas and sharp fangs pressing over his bottom lips. "Yeah...that's what I thought."

Deadlock notices Arcee say something else but it all goes deaf to his audios. He's lost a lot of energon and he knows he's in trouble as things in him start slowly shutting down. He manages to activate his audios again and this is when he hears more voices and steps coming closer. If he was to survive, he wasn't even sure what he'd do next, not anymore.

A part of him did want to be offline. It'll end everything for good, and perhaps give him some peace of mind, not that he deserved it.

"Hey, you still with us?" Bulkhead taps the top of his helm to bring him back, causing him to let out a groan and online again.

"Sort of..." Is his only honest answer.

"Well, today is your lucky day con. Our medic is going to come and patch you up. Try to remember this moment that we helped you." Bulkhead adds firmly for him to think about.

"I'm jumping with joy." Deadlock chuckles dryly, a little energon drops from his mouth as he tastes it flooding in his intake. Yeah, he felt it was too late.

"Drift?"

That voice.

He manages to move his helm back up and his amber optics flickered as he meets the gaze of the ghostly familiar figure standing before the ground. Ratchet. His Ratchet.

"You know him?" Arcee was surprised to hear Ratchet say the decepticons name. But Ratchet couldn't answer, he was frozen, as if he was petrified or enthralled by the very sight of what he thought he lost those years ago.

Deadlock, his given decepticon name, lets out a softly dry laugh that lingers longer with a smile, disbelief and sadness overwhelming his struggling processor. He finally found him.

"Perhaps I am lucky." He says with his wide smile, sharp dentas glittering in under the sunlight. "It's good to see you Ratty."

Under Optimus' orders Ratchet came to patch up the new decepticon before sending him on their way. He was a medic, he treated the wounded, but treating a decepticon was different. He's done it before of course, but not often. Ratchet felt his servos shake as he stood there. Hearing the old pet name made his vents hitch a little and his own emotions boiling up, completely deaf to Arcee as she questions him.

It's not until Deadlock slumps against the tree that Ratchet finally acted. Hurrying forward he came to his side and started to work on him. His wounds were bad, he knew this already just simply looking at him from afar.

"How do you know him?" Arcee repeats coming to the medics side.

"Later." Ratchet's focus was on him. "Let me work."

Neither Bulkhead or Arcee have ever seen Ratchet like this before. Sure, they've seen him sad, angry, annoyed, happy, but this is different.

When he feels his servos against his frame Deadlock lets out a shutter, both relief and pain. He tilts his helm up to get a better look at Ratchet and manages to hold a soft smile that feels foreign to him, he hasn't smiled like that in a very long time. There was a deep history there, and the two went through a lot together, right before he hurt his Ratty. He didn't deserve to be saved, or given a chance. Damage was done.

"Saving your life, again." Ratchet mutters mostly to himself, his own emotions rattled. "Reckless. Stupid. All this time and you're online, still. I'm out of my mind. I should hate you, no, I do hate you, but my spark is aching for you." His voice is low as if he's whispering to himself but Deadlock hears it. "Why did you....How could you...." His words break apart and that hits Deadlock hard.

"I'm sorry." Is all he can whisper, touching Ratchet's working servo and gaining his attention. "I'm sorry....I'm so sorry." Apologising won't fix the past or his choices, but it's the first time he's ever said it to him.

As much as Ratchet is hurting he knew he couldn't lose him again. Whatever happens next will be whether it was too late or not.

"Kids, stay back." Bulkhead hurries through the ground bridge first and warns the kids all hanging around the raised platform along with Agent Fowler and June.

"What's going on?" Raf asks curiously, noticing his worried expression.

"Optimus, he won't listen. Can you talk to him? This is crazy!" Arcee is next feeling enraged about Ratchet's decision.

Ratchet comes through next, carrying a badly wounded Deadlock in his arms with strength no one else had seen him with for a long time.

"You brought a Decepticon back here?" June raises her hand over Raf and makes sure the kids stay behind her. "Ratchet the kids are here!"

"Don't like it, find the door." Ratchet barks back, taking many of them off guard. He ignores everyone and places him on the medical berth, quickly gathering tools to start stabilising him.

Deadlock was hanging close over the edge, everything in him hurt and his processor was swimming wildly. He had no idea where he was, only that Ratchet was with him, and that's all that mattered.

"So cool." Miko comes closer to get a better view. Jack tries to stop her.

"Miko-"

"No way I want to watch!"

Optimus comes closer but stays out of Ratchet's way and stares at the decepticon brought in, his optics widening a little as if something clicked in his processor, and Arcee notices this.

"You know him too. Ratchet called him Drift. Who is that?"

Optimus is quiet before looking at his comrades. "Ratchet knows him. Let him work."

"But-"

"Please, Arcee." Optimus knew just how sensitive this would be for his old friend, and can't imagine but he must be feeling right now.

Arcee finally backs off but that doesn't mean she was alright with this. Most of everyone wasn't. Miko sits on the edge of the lower platform as she watches Ratchet do his magic on the decepticon, a fascination. June only manages to keep Jack and Raf away, still not liking that a decepticon was near the kids base.

"Prime, is this safe?" Agent Fowler questions him quietly. "I get that he's a friend of Ratchet's, but that doesn't change he's a decepticon."

"I understand your concern. But please, I'm asking you all to let Ratchet handle this." Optimus didn't want to explain everything in that moment, respecting Ratchet and hoping everyone will follow the same.

Deadlock was in and out of it for a bit, gold optics flashing repeatedly as Ratchet tried to stop the bleeding and keep him stable. Everything hurt through him, but not as bad as the ache in his spark that throbs with grief for his Ratty. He was saving his life yet again, trying to at least.

"Are you still with me?" Ratchet's tone is more gentle as he hovers over him once he manages to stop the bleeding.

"Ah huh..." He manages to say between heavy vents.

"I need to repair the damage and get energon running through you again. Try to keep still, you're at the start of a long road recovery."

Before he could say anything else, Ratchet had gone to get a few things. Deadlock tilts his helm a little to the side and through his flickering vision he spots something, or someone. The pink is what catches his attention first and gives himself a moment to adjust his vision before it clears up almost.

"Well, you're tiny." He manages to say softly through a short chuckle.

"I might be small, but I can rip your spark out." Miko doesn't hold back.

"I better...stay on your good side than. What are you?"

"What am I? I'm human. The names Miko. You've never seen a human before?"

"Nah, you're the first, Miko."

"What are your first impressions?"

"Well...you did threaten to rip my spark out...so I'm fearful of you." He only meant it as a joke and Miko knew this, and she gave a small smirk at him. She didn't like cons, but this one seems different.

Even Ratchet didn't seem bothered about his interaction with her. June slowly comes closer, Jack and Raf right behind her, still being careful.

"You're Drift, right?" Miko leans her chin against the railing feeling a bit more comfortable to stay.

"Yes." It's Ratchet that answers quickly before Deadlock could. He understood. Meeting his gaze there was that firm and serious blaze he knew all too well from his Ratty. It meant there was going to be no further mention about it.

"Yeah...I'm Drift." Saying the name again after so long felt weird, but guess he'll adjust to it again.

Suddenly, he jolts and groans in pain through clenched dentas as Ratchet wields something into place. It hurts a lot, but at least it doesn’t last too long.

"Could you give me a warning next time?" He vents once it stops.

"Nope." Ratchet answers simply.

He understands.

"How do you two know each other?" It's Raf that bravely asks, mainly both of them.

"We...go way back." Drift answers, optics shifting at the medic at his side. "Ain't that right Ratty?"

"Hm." Ratchet doesn't answer much after hearing his old nickname.

"Ratty?" Miko can't help but smirk at the medic.

"Only he is allowed to call me that." He tells her. No one else ever did.

"He hates it, but I get away with it." Drift smirks lightly before wincing again. "Frag..." Optics manage to cast over at the other autobots standing together outside the bay and staring, most of them looking not too happy causing him to vent out. "Stop."

Ratchet does but only because he's confused. "What?"

"Just...stop. Just...you shouldn't be helping, you know?"

"Do you want to be offline?" Ratchet hits his tool against the table causing the humans the jump and gives an intense stare at Drift. "Do you just want to give up?"

"Your friends don't want to waste resources on a filthy con...I don't deserve it. You...you shouldn't be helping me."

"Well, too bad. You don't get to have a say in what I do, we're well past that. Perhaps you're right about not deserving to be saved, but the only one that gets to decide your fate is me." Ratchet leans closer to Drift, optics burning, before he erupts. "The only way you will be offline is if I allow it, because I'm the only one who has every right to let you bleed out right now! You don't get to decide your fate! I do! Is that understood?!"

His outburst is heard by everyone. Even the humans shrink away a little, never seeing Ratchet this angry before. Something deep was there, but no one knew just how deep.

Drift doesn't flinch. He takes it, accepts Ratchet's rage. He's right, only he has the right to decide what happens next. All he can do is let him do what he wants, he is no longer in control of his fate.

"Understood."

Ratchet lets out a heavy vent and goes back to work on him, only to look up when he feels everyone staring. "What?" He snaps, bothered that everyone was just staring.

"Everyone, let's give them space." Optimus finally says. "Ratchet has work to do." He'll give that privacy to his old friend without distractions.

June leads the kids away and Miko follows to let Ratchet work. Only Optimus understands what Ratchet must be feeling, he knew what Drift meant to him, and knew just what they've both dealt with over the years. The others all had raising questions but at least they weren't hammering either him or Ratchet with them to get answers, and respected what Optimus had said.

It is a long recovery for Drift. Weeks go by, but he is doing better. Ratchet worked hard to repair the damage he received from the crash and make sure his fuel lines were pumping correctly. He worked his magic and did a good job on Drift, never giving up.

"Alright, follow my digit." Ratchet was doing simple tests, everyday he did them, and Drift obeys as his optics follow the moving digit in front of him, clearing and without struggle. "Good. Better today."

Drift was feeling better, both physically and mentally. After being by himself so long it was going to take time adjusting to have others around.

Not the autobots, mainly the humans kept him company. Drift was curious about these organics. Sure, he's come across them before, but not humans. He doesn't mind them.

"Does this mean I'm off bed rest?" Drift asks as he straightens his back. Ratchet shakes his helm with a short chuckle.

"Yeah right. You're clear when I say you're clear. Just because you look and feel better doesn't mean you're fit for duty."

"Duty?

Ratchet stops and looks at him, optics unreadable before venting softly. "You're staying, right?"

It hasn't been something they've talked about really. Drift had no idea what to do next honestly. Since finding Ratchet he didn't want to leave him behind, not again.

"You're here, so I'll stay. Don't think your friends are going to like that though." He didn't think they would welcome him into team prime. "Does that mean I've got to become an autobot?"

"Don't worry about them, I'll handle it. They don't know your decepticon name, yet. I don't want to hear that name ever again. And yes, you'll become an autobot, because I said so."

Drift understands. "Alright." He was willing to do whatever Ratchet wanted. All he wanted was to have him back in his life again, to not throw away his second chance.

"Good. Now, let's have a closer look."

Drift feels Ratchet's servos touch both sides of his cheek platings, examining him further and making sure he didn't miss anything. But Drift slowly leans into the touch, purring, and reaches up to touch them both under his own. The action gets Ratchet's attention and they both stare at one another, the fondness slowly growing as the medic's optics soften.

Ratchet does like the purrs Drift makes, he always did, and hearing it again makes his knees feel weak. Such a strange effect it gives, yet so addictive. It's been so long since he last heard them, causing his feelings to stir wildly. As much as he hated him for his choices, he never stopped loving him.

Neither did Drift. He has a lot of regrets, but the one he'll always carry is he hurt Ratchet. He'll always carry the weight of that.

Leaning closer, Drift presses the front of their helms together, savouring the moment for as long as he can as his optics shutter closed. Ratchet doesn't lean away and lets it happen.

Drift wants to kiss him, and he tries to do this by leaning closer towards his lips, but Ratchet stops him. The moment is gone.

"It's too soon." Ratchet can only whisper, trying to keep his emotions from pouring out. "You left a deep wound, one I could never repair."

Drift knew he deserved that.

"Your injuries aren't the only recovery you'll be going through. There's a lot....between us, that needs time to heal. Won't be simple, but I need time to adjust to this, to trust you again."

"So there's a chance?" Drift held onto that hope.

Ratchet vents softly and caresses his servo against his cheek plating again, running his digit under his optics gently. "I hope so."

That's all Drift needs. "Take your time then."

Optimus gathered everything, even the humans, so they can all listen to what Ratchet has to say. Drift was resting and took this moment to explain some details to his friends. They've all been very patient.

"How's he doing?" It's June that asks, the only one who was kind enough to ask about Drift.

"Doing better. Still recovering, but he's making good progress." Ratchet answers.

He looks up at everyone who stares at him, all focus and attention. His optics glance over at Optimus who was there for him through this. It's time to reveal it.

"Drift and I have a long history, all the way to the time before the war started on cybertron. He hasn't made the best choices in his life, which is why things are messy between us, but he wants to change, make better choices. I'm willing to give him that second chance."

"I understand your concerns." Optimus then jumps in and speaks to everyone. "We both do, but I trust Ratchet to take charge of him, and I believe there's hope for Drift, to become better."

"So he's becoming an autobot?" Jack asked curiously.

"He will. It's a lot to ask but it would be a great help if everyone treated him fairly, so he can settle into this life. He's been alone for a long time without contact, it has affected him, but with time he'll adjust and do better." Ratchet explains.

"Is he like your best friend?" Raf asks innocently.

The medic gives himself a moment before finally saying it. "Drift is my conjunx endura."

"What?' Arcee quirks quickly in surprise.

"You never said you had one!" Bulkhead is just as surprised while Bumblebee lets out a bunch of whirls and beeps along with them.

"Ah, sorry, humans are confused here." Agent Fowler raises his hand. "What's a...conjunx endura?"

"Well, for humans to understand, we're married." Ratchet clarifies.

"What?!"

Ratchet knew this was going to be a shock to everyone, and he'll silently admit he was trying to avoid this moment, but knew that wasn't going to last forever. They had a right to know what Drift meant to him, and what happened.

"Drift comes from a troubled life. He got himself addicted to circuit boosters, drugs for humans to understand, lost himself, and Optimus found him, or at the time he was Orion. He brought him to me where I had my own medical centre, doing what I could for those who were considered lower classes. I saved his life there, and I saw just how lost he looked, so I gave him a choice to stay and help me out, or he could leave. He got clean and stayed, few of the smart choices he's ever made. Over time we grew fond of one another and...well, we ended up together for a long while, fell in love, things were good and we were happy." Ratchet remembers those fond memories with him before he close his optics.

"Than the war started. Megatron approached me, offered me a position as his head medic officer, but I declined. I thought that was it, but I was very wrong. Megatron got to Drift, manipulated his mind, gave him false hope, and he fell for it. The next time I saw him he wore the Decepticon badge. He was already convinced I was going to join him, but I refused. I got angry, expressed my disappointment loudly. The Drift I grew to love left that day and he became stone cold. Megatron gave him the order to destroy the medical centre and he did it, leaving me in ruins. Megatron gives him a new name..." Ratchet went quiet. He couldn't say it, and looks at Optimus, who understands

"Deadlock."

The name rings through the autobots. They all knew that name all too well. The horrors they've heard, the carnage left behind by the same bot that was now in their base.

The humans all take notice of their reactions. "You've heard of that name?"

"The very name that a lot feared." Arcee says to them, voice full of dread. "I never bumped into him, only heard what he had done, and it's nothing good."

"Drift is Deadlock? The very con that Megatron favoured?" Bulkhead struggled to process this.

"Why did Megatron favour him?" Jack sounds worried.

"Because of his lack of emotion, no empathy, and did as he was told without hesitation." Ratchet adds through a shaky vent. "But...he's coming back around, the Drift I know. After what happened, I joined Optimus to try to do what I could for the autobots, all the while trying to silently mend the damage done to my spark. As much as I hated Drift, I never stopped loving him, and always held on some hope he might come back."

"And he did." June says softly, moved by the story he told everyone to have a better understanding of what just happened. Though they were concerned about his past with the decepticons, they understood what Ratchet must be feeling to get his lover back again after so long.

Ratchet lets out a shaky vent and looks at everyone. "I'm willing to forgive for his mistakes, because that's my choice. I need to ask you all to respect our privacy, our past, and for there to be no further questions about Drift's time with the decepticons. Please, don't shut him out, give him a chance, get to know him. He might not be the smartest, and he's made terrible choices, but there is good in him."

"I don't like cons, but he seems...different." Miko perks up, looking over at Bulkhead. "I've gotten to know him a little, he's not so bad. Just have to ignore that history part with the cons."

Bulkhead groaned in displeasement but knew there wasn't really going to be any other way around this. Drift was going to become one of them, so they might as well start opening up to him.

"We'll do that." Arcee then says through a soft vent. "For you Ratchet, we'll give him a chance."

Ratchet feels himself relax a little hearing this. He had a pretty good team here. "Thank you."

Drift is up and walking. He then finds himself facing the autobots and humans, all looking at him as Optimus and Ratchet approach. Least they didn't have weapons drawn on him, it's a start.

Optimus is first to speak. "Drift, we've all talked to one another and Ratchet has informed the others about your bondage with him. It is Ratchet's wish to give you a second chance, for you to leave behind your past with the decepticons and to become one of our own. I ask for you to have zero connections with any decepticon and to prove yourself among our team here."

Drift looks at Ratchet who gives a simple nod at him. This was his chance to fix what he tore apart between them, to show he could be something better. He wanted that.

"Thanks, Optimus. I'll do whatever Ratty says, I don't want to let him down again, or anyone for that matter."

"Ratty?" June can't help but repeat through a small smile.

"None of you are allowed to call me that." Ratchet points at everyone with a firm glare.

"Only I can." Drift sends him a smirk knowing he was right about that.

"I'm going to lay down a few things as well." Ratchet starts as he steps closer towards him. "You'll follow our rules, our ways, no arguments or whining about it. You'll treat everyone here with respect and you'll be treated the same in return. Everything is going to be stripped, your model, colours, nothing that will give any decepticon a hint who you used to be, a complete new look. Understood?"

Drift listens and doesn't hesitate to nod. Like he said, whatever his Ratty wanted. He was in his control now. "Sure, alright." He gives a smile, sharp denta's lightly exposed.

Ratchet stares before pointing. "I'm removing those modified dentas." Drift's smile slips and goes to say something but Ratchet raises his servo. "Nope! They're going. They look ridiculous on you."

Drift vents heavily. Complete new look. "Alright...whatever you want."

"Wow, who are you and what have you done with Drift?" Miko asks the completely new looking robot sitting in the medical bay. She had just arrived with the others. It seemed Ratchet was very serious.

Drift sends the girl a soft smirk, sharp dentas now back to their default model along with most of his amour, colours neutral grey, ready for a new scan and colour.

"Ratchet wasn't kidding." He answers through a gentle chuckle. "But hey, I think it will be good to have something different."

"Something calm." Ratchet points out as he sets up some programs for Drift to scan and choose from. "Soft, nice, you know? Nothing dramatic."

"Ugh, such a control freak." Miko comes up onto the ramp along with the others.

Drift can't help but snicker. He liked humans. They were different, had a lot of character, he grew to like them very quickly in his short time there.

"What colour, Ratty?" Drift asks as he looks through some models.

"That's for you to decide."

"I want what you want."

"I want you to pick yourself. I'm sure you can't mess up on that." Ratchet doesn't mean for that to sound harsh, but it did. Drift shifts his amber optics at him, looking like a wounded feline, and Ratchet vents softly, lowering his voice. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Drift doesn't want him to apologise, so he forces a smile. "I'll pick myself." He says trying to sound positive.

Ratchet nods and leaves him to it.

"Ouch." Miko whispers while hanging over the railing.

"Are things alright between you two?" The youngest Raf asks kindly.

"It's not simple, but it's progress." Drift answers honestly.

For a moment he scans through the new designs before looking up at Ratchet talking with Optimus. His optics scan over him and he smiles. He's picked a colour. Adding the program he scans the new look, his armour shifting colour and shape right in front of the kids to watch, astonished by the change happening before it finishes.

Drift looks at his reflection and smiles more. He looks good, very good. He now holds a very similar colour matching with Ratchet.

"It's a good look." Jack praises.

"You and Ratchet got matching colours now. That's cute." Miko beams.

Drift shifts his optics at Ratchet who is looking at him now, a lingering enchantment holds in his optics as he stares at Drift. They both do indeed share the same colours, a similar design, with Drift only being more slender framed.

"It is cute." Drift sends Ratchet a wink.

Ratchet has to try to cool himself when he sees Drift. He wouldn't say it, but he feels himself heat up at the sight of his long lost mate looking like that. He likes the new look. Clearing his vocals, he nods simply. "Very nice."

Drift doesn't miss the pink hue at his white cheek plating.

Laying on his berth in his given room Drift finds himself staring at the ceiling and letting his processor run over everything that's happened. He was now an autobot, one of team prime. His servo runs over the new symbol over his chest and lets out a soft vent.

It's not that he was disgusted by it, but it does feel foreign still. All this was going to take time to adjust, to move on from his troubled past and do better for him and for Ratchet.

All that time ago, when he hurt him, he lost himself. He became something dark, horrible, one of Megatron's favourites because he did anything he was told. All those memories will forever haunt him, but he hopes he can move past all that and start over with Ratchet. It's all he wants.

The sudden knock at his door jolts him out of his thoughts and goes to open it. He stares at Ratchet who stands on the other side.

"Did I wake you?" Ratchet asks through a soft tone.

"No, recharge is...it's not easy these days." Drift admits.

Ratchet nods lightly. "Can I come in?"

Drift feels his spark thump rapidly as he nods, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind. He watches as Ratchet turns to face him, and there's that struggling look he held, when he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Drift comes closer, calmly stepping in front of him and trying to look into his optics. He can feel the heat radiating from his charris that he wants to touch, but holds back.

"I wanted to see you." Ratchet manages to say. "I...I just want to be with you." Hearing this makes Drift smile, only for it to slip away hearing his next words. "But I'm scared you're going to hurt me again."

"I know." Drift knows he hurt him badly, he'll never forget that. "And...I'm scared you're never going to stop hating me."

"I don't hate you. I'm just trying to trust you again."

"What can I do?" Drift doesn't know himself. "Tell me what to do."

"No." Ratchet shakes his helm, face hardening. "I want you to decide for yourself, not what I or anyone else tells you." On his own free will, not in control.

Drift gets it now. So, he does that. He touches his face plating, running his digits across and savouring the warm feeling, before closing the distance and kissing him gently.

The kiss is simple and short, but it's what Drift wants, what Ratchet wants. It's broken for just a mere moment before Drift dives in again, slowly deepening it as he slides his servos across Ratchet's shoulders and running behind his neck. Without holding back anymore ratchet consumes the kiss they share and backs him back against the berth, leaning over and pressing himself between his thighs as their lingering heated moans fill the room.

"I've missed you." Ratchet manages to whisper between kisses. "Primus...I've missed you so much."

"I'm here, I'm right here, and I'm never leaving you." Drift says before he retracts his panel, revealing his already soaking valve and the housing opens for his spike to throb out. "Please, Ratty, I need you inside me."

Climbing up over him, Ratchet retracts his panel and his throbbing spike emerges from its housing. He rubs himself against Drift, sliding between the lips of his valve, catching his sensitive node with each thrust. Drift throws his helm back against the berth and wraps his legs tightly around his waist, tugging him close and eager to get him inside.

Finally, Ratchet sinks in, groaning lowly as his spike fills Drift, feeling every ridge running against his inner walls, all the while Drift arches his back as he's filled so perfectly, mouth open as he mewls lowly. He missed this, he missed Ratchet.

Ratchet holds himself up as best he could over Drift before he sets a pace, thrusting his hips against Drift while grunting and venting heavily.

"Ratty, so good, so fragging good!" Drift chants as he holds onto him, clenching his valve around his thickness while running his servos along Ratchet's arms.

However, Ratchet makes a blunt noise, as if he's trying something but is struggling, right before he stops moving and lets out an annoyed heavy vent.

"What's wrong?" Drift vents densely as he feels Ratchet's hesitation and tries to avoid his lingering stare, removing himself from his valve as he backs up. "Hey, hey, Ratty, talk to me. D-did I do something wrong?" He touches his face plating and watches as Ratchet's optics shutter closes and leans into his touch.

"No, no, you did nothing wrong. It's me."

"What do you mean?" Drift shifts closer, placing his other servo over his shoulder and listening to whatever he might want to say.

"It's embarrassing." Ratchet rolls his helm a little. Though he knew Drift wasn't going to let this slide, the concern hanging over his face causing him to vent once more. "I'm old. My stamina isn't what it use to be."

Realization hits Drift. So that's it. He can't hold back a smile.

"Don't you dare laugh." Ratchet warns but this only causes Drift to giggle lightly. "It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing." Drift only fails as he continues to giggle.

"Stop that, you're still laughing."

"I'm not, I'm not." Drift forces himself to calm down and bit back his smile before caressing his face. "Ratty, it's alright. Don't worry about it." Leaning close he kisses him gently. "How about you let me on top? Let me take care of you."

Drift gently pushes Ratchet onto the berth and has him lay down before straddling his lap, thighs trapping against his waist while his exposed valve rubs along Ratchet's throbbing spike, causing soft moans to leave from both of them. Drift hovers closer towards Ratchet's face with a tender smile.

"You always took care of me, now it's my turn to take care of you." Leaning closer, Drift kisses him, letting it linger before gently pushing his glossa inside, coiling with Ratchet's.

Positioning himself he sinks back down onto Ratchet's thick spike and starts to ride him, rolling his hips slowly, rocking himself and riding his spike slowly.

Ratchet moves his servos to his waist, gripping his digits into his soft armour while keeping the kiss deep between them, letting out short moans and feeling more comfortable like this.

Drift vents softly into the kiss, letting out short muffled moans as he sucks at Ratchet's glossa, clenching in sync with his movements as he rides him. He moves his servo between them and he starts to stroke himself, rubbing his tip gently before pumping his servo over, arousal and pleasure quickly boiling between them.

"Drift...Primus....you're so tight." Ratchet gently praises between heated moans against his lips.

"Ratty, oh Ratty! I feel so full, filling me so good." Drift presses his forehead against Ratchet's, keeping close while riding his thick spike buried deep in his valve, rubbing against his ceiling node while Ratchet takes over to stroke Drift's cable then.

Moments like these were dreamed between the two over their time apart from each other. So much war, hate, and now reunited, lost in the moment as if nothing happened.

Drift holds a firmer grip, throwing his weight down over again more firmly, clenching around the perfectly ridged spike throbbing in his valve and rubbing against his inner walls. Moans grew more feral between the two as Ratchet kept his moving servo around Drift, feeling ever twitch and transfluid coating his digits and along the length, wet sounds growing more louder as fluids start to build and pool

Tossing his helm back, Drift lets out a louder mewl, crying out in bliss as he rides Ratchet's spike more densely. "Frag, Ratty, frag, I won't be able to hold it back!"

"Do it, let yourself go." Ratchet gives the all clear between heated vents, because he too wasn't too far off from overloading either. "Let's do it together, same time."

Drift beams warmly through the intense pleasure boiling through him as he grinds himself down over again, venting and gasping sharply, soon muffled as Ratchet kisses him firmly and feels his spike suddenly erupt deep within him, thick ropes of fluids coating his inner walls with some dripping out. Within a moment he bites his lips and gasps out sharply as his own transfluids coat between him and Ratchet, a pink glow covering over Ratchet's digits as well.

Taking his servo, Drift lifts it up to his mouth and sucks at his digits to clean to fluids, tasting himself and letting out a delightful hum around each of them. Ratchet is always heated and flushed, he didn't think it would be possible to be even more, but he was wrong when Drift did this.

"So beautiful." He whispers, allured by the delightful sight as his cooling fans kick in along with Drift's.

"You're just as pretty." Drift whispers through a luminous smile. "I love you, Ratty. I never stopped loving you. My spark will always belong to you, my beloved."

Ratchet feels his very spark jump at his words. "I love you too, Drift. Always have and always will. We'll make this work, I promise."

Drift ends up snuggled up against Ratchet, tangled under his embrace as he purrs gently against his charris. Ratchet missed that purr, a soothing vibration and sound he always cherished.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" Ratchet asks as he caresses the back of Drift's helm.

"I believe so." He hums lightly, giving him a gentle nuzzle. "You've never loosing me ever again."

"Good."

Neither will ever be apart again.

#transformers #ratchet #drift #valveplug #idw #prime #deadlock #ratchet x drift #dratchet #canon x canon #smut #fanfiction #writing #sugarrusheag #this is long #6k words #not sorry

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lisbeth-kk · 6 months ago

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May Prompts (20) Do-Over

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 20)

Summary: Rosie comes home in the middle of the night, and realises that her parents have kept a horrible secret from her.

Twenty Years Old

I tried my best to be quiet when I locked myself in at three in the morning. The intended sleepover at Clare’s had ended abruptly, when her brother had stumbled in around midnight and broken two of his fingers when he tried to find his way in the dark. Being familiar with injuries of all kinds, I insisted on accompany him and a rather hysterical Clare to the closest A&E. That sorted, I decided to go home. Clare’s parents, who had attended a party, were summoned to the hospital as well, and my services weren’t needed anymore.

When I heard muffled sounds from the living room, I was puzzled. I couldn’t quite discern if one of my parents was talking on the phone, or if they were talking to each other. And then I heard sobbing. Dad. I froze and all kinds of thoughts soared around in my mind.

Had anyone died? Nana? Pops or Granny?

I didn’t even dare thinking about uncle Myc or Molly. Papa’s words stopped me from opening the door and inquire. His voice was thick with emotions, clearly crying himself.

“I’m sorry, John. I wish she’d never been born!”

The last sentence was delivered with passion and venom.

Who the hell was he talking about?

“It’s not your fault, my love,” Dad croaked. “You didn’t remember her. She knew what she was doing. Stop blaming yourself.”

“But you’re still suffering, and it’s been years,” Papa protested, the devastation pouring out of his voice.

“Only a vicious nightmare because of the events earlier today, Sherlock. She can’t harm us anymore now,” Dad soothed. “Let’s go back to bed.”

I exhaled shakily, only then realising I’d been holding my breath for too long. Slowly, I ascended to my room, knowing that sleep wouldn’t grace me with its presence tonight. Only one option, then.

Are you available? Need to talk. I’m home.

A car will pick you up in twenty minutes. UM

***

No sounds were coming from Dad and Papa’s bedroom when I snuck down the stairs twenty minutes later. A nondescript driver nodded at me when I slid into the back seat of one of my uncle’s cars. I was surprised to see that the car stopped outside uncle Myc’s house and not the Diogenes Club. I suddenly felt bad for interrupting his sleep.

“No need to apologise, Rosamund,” uncle Myc assured me before I’d even said a word. “We had just woken up. Gregory was called away to a crime scene.”

“Right. Perhaps for the best,” I said hesitantly, while I curled up in one of the comfortable armchairs.

“Your parents don’t know you’re here,” he stated.

“No. Hopefully I managed to sneak out soundlessly. I…overheard something when I came home. Unexpectedly. I was supposed to spend the night at Clare’s, but a trip to the A&E put a stop to that,” I sighed.

Uncle Myc cocked an eyebrow at the mentioning of the hospital.

“Clare’s brother. Broken fingers. She went hysterical, so I…”

“You took it upon yourself to accompany them. Being a comforting presence. Just like your father,” he summarised.

Despite my distress, I had to chuckle a bit. I wondered if he was aware of how much he reminded me of Papa in such moments. Probably, I concluded.

I gave him a clinical summary of what I’d heard back at 221B. He inhaled sharply and clenched the armrests so hard his knuckles whitened. His eyes closed and a pained expression manifested on his face. Years of practise paid off because when he opened his eyes again, he was his normal calm self.

He told me about his and Papa’s sister Eurus and what she’d done as a child and that she’d been locked up at a place called Sherrinford. I was shocked beyond belief, and braced myself when uncle’s look got even more sombre, after he’d uttered the words: “and then she managed to escape.”

“Dad was trapped in that well, and Papa…”

I had a hard time grasping all this mind-blowing and horrific information.

“Yes,” uncle interrupted.

There was no need to tell that tale one more time.

“So, why now, do you think? Dad’s nightmare, I mean.”

“Ah, yes. I got a call from Sherrinford yesterday. Eurus fell into a coma. She never woke and died a few hours later. We all went there yesterday to confirm and bury her,” he told me and clenched his jaw tight.

She was his little sister, I thought, and tears started to stream down my cheeks.

“Don’t,” he said fiercely when I was about to rise and go over to hug him.

“But, uncle Myc, she was your…”

“She was a predator, a manipulator, a cold-blooded killer. Eurus stopped being my baby sister long ago, Rosamund, and I’m glad she’s dead. It means that one of the heavier burdens I’ve been forced to bear, is finally lifted off my shoulders.”

“I still want to hug you,” I whispered. “We could both need one, I think.”

Uncle Myc stood and opened his arms. He held me tight, and I buried my nose in his chest and inhaled the familiar scent of his luxurious aftershave.

“Thank you for keeping us safe,” I murmured and rubbed his back.

“A privilege, my dear,” he assured me with a steady voice. “The guest room is ready for you. No need to go back to Baker Street at this hour.”

“How can anyone think of you as a heartless person, Mycroft Holmes?” I asked fondly and stroked his cheek.

His blush and muteness spoke volumes. He was just as sentimental as his younger brother.

(Canon do-over)

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 20: do-over #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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girlwithadragonheart · 9 days ago

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Chapter 7 - Spite's Revenge (or lack thereof)

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: It's finally time to get Lucanis and Spite's revenge against the Venatori witch that tortured them.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Illario(yeah that should say how I feel pretty well about him), Kalais is pissed off, lots of venatori death, lucanis and kalais are so cute, sexual tension

A/N: Oooh Illario pisses me off so baddddd >:(

Chapter 6 DATV Masterlist Chapter 8

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the shuttered window, pale and hesitant, as if it didn’t quite belong in this room weighed down with unspoken words and regrets. My side still ached, a steady throb that tethered me to the moment, even though I was mostly recovered, like it was a phantom reminder of what happened. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of movement beyond the door. Life continued out there. Here, I felt stuck in some kind of limbo.

Eventually, I forced myself to sit up, wincing as the motion pulled at my tender skin. My gear sat neatly folded on the chair in the corner, my boots placed side by side. I wasn’t sure who had done it, but a nagging feeling told me it was Lucanis. Despite everything, he always made sure things were orderly---like if he could control the chaos of the little things, the bigger things might stop spinning out of control too.

The door creaked open, and I tensed, half-expecting to see him again. But instead, it was Varric, chest still bandaged up, and he walked with a limp while his leg was braced. His ever-present smirk was slightly softer than usual.

“Well, look who’s up,” he said, stepping inside. He pulled a stool over and dropped onto it with a sigh. “You look like hell, Rook.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Good to see you too.”

Varric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, you wanna talk about it? Or are we doing the whole ‘brooding in silence’ thing?”

I shot him a look that suggested exactly what I planned to do. “What’s there to talk about? We went up against a literal ancient nightmare, and I almost got myself killed. Again.”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone light but pointed. “And yet here you are. Still breathing. Which is more than most people can say after tangling with something like that.”

I leaned back against the headboard, my arms crossed. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Enough for what?” Varric asked, his gaze sharp despite the casual set of his shoulders. “To save the world? To live up to whatever impossible standard you’ve set for yourself? Let me tell you something, Rook—being alive is enough. It’s a hell of a lot more than some people get.”

I looked away, my jaw tightening. “Tell that to the people we couldn’t save.”

“I have,” Varric said simpy. “And guess what? They’d say the same thing I’m saying now. You did what you could’ve. More than anyone else would’ve.”

Silence settled between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I traced the edge of the blanket with my fingers, my thoughts tangling into knots. “Lucanis thinks he failed,” I said finally, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

Varric nodded, like he’d been waiting for me to bring it up. “Of course he does. That guy’s got enough guilt to sink a ship.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Why does he put so much of this on himself?”

Varric was silent for a moment, looking at me for long enough that I met his stare. The weight of it made me look away again. His voice was low when he asked, “Why do you?”

I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. “I don’t know how to help him,” I said instead.

“Start by helping yourself,” Varric said. “You can’t pull someone out of the fire if you’re already half-burned.” I frowned, about to argue, but he held up a hand to stop me. “I mean it, Rook. You’re both too damn stubborn for your own good. Maybe it’s time to stop trying to fix everything alone.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a sharp reply at the ready. Varric stood, patting my thigh affectionately before moving for the door. “Think about it,” he said, pulling the door open before looking over his shoulder at me. “And for Andraste’s sake, try not to get yourself killed again. I’m running out of sarcastic things to say at your bedside.”

I snorted despite myself, shaking my head. “I’ll try.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This time, they didn’t feel quite as heavy.

—-------------------------

I finally managed to drag myself out of the cot in the infirmary. My side was still tight, and the skin was stretched taut with a scar, but it was healed mostly over. Phantom pains still plagued me, but that could just have been the result of so much mental and emotional stress on a physical wound.

Lucanis and I hadn’t spoken, but I would wake to the smell of his cooking and a cioccolata calda steaming on a tray beside my bed. If that was his idea of a peace offering, I’d take it. Everything was hard enough without trying to lay our feelings out in a messy heap on the dining table. Best to keep them tucked away in organized folders, nice and neat to pull out when necessary and close up and put away in other cases.

And until the time arose for me to pull some of those folders out, they would stay right there in my chest where they belonged. Where I knew no one could see them or hurt them.

Hurt me.

And yet, my feet carried me right to him anyway. As though they just couldn’t help themselves. As though I couldn’t help myself. Like a moth to a flame, always trailing after the danger and unable to resist the temptation of its warmth.

I knocked hesitantly before pushing open his door. Lucanis stopped mid-pace, seeing me. “Are you in here brooding?’ I asked with a slight smile.

“I’m fine,” He said, placing a hand on his hip.

“That’s not a ‘No.’”

“I had her. She should never have gotten away from me. This was our contract, Rook. I don’t fail my contracts,” he said, venom toward himself with every syllable that slipped from his tongue.

“Forget about Ghilan’nain,” I said.

“That’s why I’m here,” he argued.

“I know, but… I’m just happy you didn’t get killed out there.” I crossed my arms under my chest like I could pull that folder back in before it spilled all over the floor like loose coffee beans.

“You shouldn’t go easy on me,” Lucanis said. “Mistakes get people killed.”

“You’re an assassin,” I grinned. “So do successes.”

“I thought I still had this. Whatever else I am, I’m a professional,” he said. “After the Ossuary, I thought at least I could still take out a target. I need to work.”

“Ghilan’nain was a giant face in the clouds, Lucanis. I asked you to stab a cloud.”

“And I missed the damn cloud!”

“My point is: That was impossible, and you still almost did it. That’s not small,” I told him.

He sighed, looking at the ground. “I was distracted,” he said, looking back up at me. “That cannot happen again. I need to get my head on straight.”

“Whatever you need to do, okay?” I told him.

“Have you been to talk to the others?” He asked. “I think everyone might have… things to deal with now. I should check in with the Crows. Whatever the word is, I’ll let you know.”

“Tell Teia I said hi,” I told him before leaving. “And Lucanis,” I turned back toward him, and he looked up at me. “Stop beating yourself up before I beat you up,” I leveled him with the best glare I could manage.

His eyebrows shot up, “Is that a threat, mi estrella?”

I shrugged, smiling at him before shutting the door behind me.

—---------------------

After a talk with Solas that night that provided no new information or feedback, I wandered back out to the dining hall to see if Lucanis had heard from the Crows. When I entered, he was standing at the corner of the table, several knives stuck into the wood.

“This is ominous…” I said as I approached.

“Viago found something,” Lucanis said.

“Something bad, I take it?” I asked, bracing myself for whatever news I was about to hear that had Lucanis sticking knives in the table.

“Venatori in Treviso. Like I thought. One of them might know where Zara is. Viago has Crows watching them. We find them, we find Zara,” he said.

“Everything she did to you… We’ll make her pay, Lucanis. Side by side,” I said earnestly.

“We just have to get this done. I’m not losing anyone else,” he said in a low voice. “We only get one shot at this. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

We met with Lucanis’s Crow contact. She told us that they found a group of Venatori hiding out in the market, not far from Cafe Pietra. They already took Minrathous from me. They couldn’t have Treviso too.

I would do anything to keep a home.

I didn’t like anything about this. I definitely didn’t like how willing Illario was to insist Zara had moved on and left. Especially now that Venatori were trying to occupy the city beside the Antaam.

We made our way through the city to where she said they were hiding. Of course the front door was locked. So we went up. There was always another route, this was Treviso, after all. Holes in the walls and climbing the lattice-works on the sides of buildings. Jumping between roofs and ziplining over canals.

Still, I must’ve miscalculated a jump, my foot slipping. My heart plummeted to my stomach as I started falling. A hand gripping my wrist firmly stopped me, and a second later I was back on my feet, looking at Lucanis as his hand lingered on my wrist.

“Careful,” he said before turning to lead the way again.

I’d forgotten how fun it was to kill Venatori. They were worse than roaches. Like a rat in the last bag of rice. Lucanis watched with raised brows, almost in surprise as I slammed my dagger through a Venatori’s ribs all the way to the hilt before pulling it out and slitting his throat.

“You fight like a Crow,” he observed.

“Varric taught me to fight. I guess the rogue in him rubbed off on me,” I said in response. “Sometimes even a normal stabbing beats burning them to a crisp.”

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” he smirked.

“I think you’re safe,” I laughed.

There were lots of useless notes scattered around their hideout. Only one pointed to a possible lead. A powerful mage named Aquila. A mage? Two could play that game. Try a mage with a dagger, bitch.

It didn’t take long to get rid of him. His pockets were stuffed with jewelry from the Chantry. That was our next stop, then.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Facing Zara, I mean,” I asked him.

“I lost a year of my life to that Venatori witch. I owe her for that,” he said steadily.

We climbed up to the roof, and Illario was standing there. “There you are. What took you so long? Did you stop for coffee again?”

“Illario? What are you doing here?” Lucanis asked as we approached. I watched him, very much waiting to hear the answer to that myself.

“I’m coming with you, cousin. No arguments.”

“This is my job,” Lucanis argued.

“This is Crow business,” Illario countered.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” Lucanis asked.

Illario looked at me with a sly grin. “Rook! Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin? You must allow me to show you the sights.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Lucanis told you not to come.” I saw a flash of anger and disappointment cross Illario’s face before it was gone, replaced by that stupid smug grin.

“This isn’t your type of job, cousin,” Lucanis said, shifting slightly closer to me. “There’s no one you can charm into dropping their guard. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed.”

“You think I’m not good enough?” Illario questioned.

“Are you?” Lucanis asked.

“Fine. Have it your way, cousin. You know best,” Illario replied with a hiss.

“Let’s go, Rook. Zara is waiting,” Lucanis told me.

“Go on, then. Don’t keep Zara waiting,” Illario crossed his arms, watching me like a predator. I sidestepped him, heading across the roof.

We didn’t find Zara, but we found about a dozen Venatori and a bone-reader in the Chantry hall. Apparently she was Zara’s favorite soothsayer, Porcia. Lucanis said if she’s here then Zara is too.

All of her lackeys were here, which meant she was here. We just hadn’t found her yet.

And of course, when we did find her, it was in a pool of blood in the basement of the holy sanctum.

And she was naked.

Great.

“Lucanis,” she purred. “It’s terribly uncivilized to drop in on a lady unannounced. Now the evening’s ruined.”

“You’ve got something on yourself,” I said.

“How very eloquent,” she said, standing from the water. She was covered in blood up to her collarbone, hair black and wavy, lips painted dark. Her eyes were bone white, a stark contrast to her hair and the blood bodysuit.

“Bitch,” I sneered, curling my lip and flipping her the bird. Lucanis glanced at me with a similar expression, and my hand clutched my dagger as she prepared to fight us.

All of my anger with the Venatori that had built in my veins now came charging out in a concentrated blast of fire and lightning. I watched as Lucanis leaped into the air, wings erupting from his back in a display of shadow and night and everything righteous and vengeful that had been building in him over the past year.

While she was busy focusing on not burning to a crisp and spending all her power regenerating herself, Lucanis grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her forcefully against the floor. Her once beautiful face was now old and wrinkled, her hair white as snow.

She cowered against the pillar she was thrown against, trying to drag herself up. “So serious, Lucanis! Why don’t we talk? I can tell you much about Venatori… and our pet Crows.”

“No. I want. Her heart. Quivering. On our knife,” I heard Spite hiss in Lucanis’s mind.

I watched Lucanis’s face twist, his neck straining as he fought against Spite for control. His eyes flashed purple before he closed them.

“You want to know who betrayed you, don’t you? Who sent you to the Ossuary?” Zara crooned.

“Talk,” Lucanis spat.

“I knew you were—”

She was cut off by someone dropping from the ceiling. I almost had them under my blade before I saw it was Lucanis’s cousin.

“Illario!”

“I told you. This is Crow business.”

“Amatu—” Zara was cut off by Illario’s hand around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. Literally. Her neck snapped. And she was gone.

“No! Mine!” Spite hissed through Lucanis’s teeth, wings flaring from his back. Spite screamed in anger, leaping into the air and pinning Illario, arm drawn back with his dagger. I watched in slow motion as he tried to plunge the knife into his cousin. His other hand caught his forearm.

“Get. Illario. Out!!” Lucanis yelled in my direction, fighting against Spite with everything in him.

“What? No—”

“Rook, I can’t—” He screamed in pain.

“Lucanis!” I moved in front of Illario.

“No!” Lucanis screamed.

The dagger pressed against my skin, drawing a nick of blood at my collar. “Rook. Move!” Spite hissed.

I stared right into those glowing purple eyes. “No. If you want him you have to kill me first.”

Spite growled. My face cracked as the dagger drew a scratch against my skin from Lucanis’s shaking hand trying to hold Spite back.

“Rook. Hurt!” Lucanis stumbled back, eyes back to their normal chocolate brown.

“Rook,” Lucanis took a step toward me, hand out.

“Hey, I’m fine.” I swiped my thumb over the wound, letting my magic heal it with the pass. “See? Nothing’s there, it’s okay.”

“You need to get him out of here,” Illario said behind me. “Rook. Keep him away. From Treviso. From the Crows. He’s a danger to the family.”

I spun around to face him. Approaching with my finger in his face. “If you had bloody well stayed away like we bloody well told you to, this wouldn’t have happened! That wasn’t your fucking kill, Illario! Do you know he spent a year in that fucking prison getting tortured? That he never would’ve been possessed if not for her?” I spat, my hand fisted in his collar.

“Rook—” Lucanis said weakly.

“No!” I cried. “He does not get to call you a danger when he’s so reckless. And what was it Zara called you, hmm? Amatus? The Vint word for love, if I remember correctly from my time as a slave,” I spat in Illario’s face. “Forgive me, if I’m not ready to let you off the hook just because you happened to know where we would be, and happened to know where the Ossuary was, and happened to be called love by the person we came here to kill. So, no. You get out of here Illario before I get the mind to kill you myself. Your only grace is being Lucanis’s cousin. Get the fuck out of my sight.” I shoved him and he stumbled.

“Lucanis, you’re going to let your plaything speak to me like this?” He questioned.

“Kalais is not a plaything, and you would be the luckiest man in the world to have her as yours. Just go, Illario,” Lucanis said, all of the fight gone from him.

Illario looked between the two of us, scoffed, and walked away. He was smarter than I gave him credit for, then.

Lucanis watched him go and then fell to his knees. I rushed over to him, hands on his shoulders to keep him upright. “Come on, just gotta get back to the eluvian and you can rest,” I said, helping him to his feet. “I’m alright, okay, now I just need you to be.”

Lucanis complied as best he could, Spite helping him move with me as we traversed back to the Diamond and through the Eluvian to the lighthouse.

I managed to get him back to his room, sitting down against the wall as he passed out on his cot.

—--------------------

I didn’t sleep much, but I rested a bit while he did. He sat by me for who knows how long while I was injured, I couldn’t bear to leave now.

Hours later he stirred. “Rook?”

“You’re awake,” I said, looking up at him from my camp on the floor. I had brewed fresh coffee for when he awoke sitting on the table next to his bed, the small lamp the only light in the room.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you,” he said quietly.

Ah.

So he’d been awake for awhile, then. I just didn’t know because he hadn’t stirred.

“And…” he continued. “There aren’t words enough to apologize.” I shifted to sit on my knees before his bedside, brows furrowed. “I never wanted you to see me like that. And to think I almost…”

I shook my head. “I’m still here,” I told him. “Nothing happened that I wasn’t expecting other than Illario falling from the sky,” I said with a slight grin. “And look…” I took his hand, pulling it to my collarbone where his dagger had nicked me. “There’s nothing there. Not even a scar.”

I let go, and his fingers trailed across my collarbone, eyes lingering on the skin there. A shiver went down my spine, goosebumps raising on my flesh. Lucanis inhaled sharply, looking away, putting his hands on his lap. “We need to talk about Illario.”

“He wants you to stay away from the Crows. He… thinks you’re a danger to your family,” I spat. I’d had plenty of time to think about it and let my anger cool down. And yet, every time I thought about it, that anger came rushing back. What better way to tell I was justified than that?

“He’s not wrong. If I cannot stay in control…” He said solemnly. “Something’s not right, though.”

I sighed. “I didn’t say anything because he’s your cousin, but… I’ve always had a bad feeling about Illario,” I said carefully. “And for your sake, I didn’t want it to be true.”

“For his sake, let’s hope you’re wrong,” Lucanis said. “Zara is dead. After everything she did to me…”

“To us!” Spite hissed.

“It should have been my knife that finished this. Illario denied me that.”

“Trust me, I won’t be soon forgetting that, either,” I scowled.

“Thank you, Rook,” he said softly. “Just… give me time.”

I took his hands, squeezing them lightly. “Of course. I’ll be around if you need to talk. Your coffee is on the end table. I made it, I hope it’s alright. I tried to copy how you do it,” I said sheepishly, looking away.

His eyes were wide, and he picked up the cup, bringing it to his lips. He hummed, eyes slipping shut as he tasted it. I squirmed with anticipation. His eyes slowly slid open to peer at me. “I think… this is better than my coffee, Kalais. I might be asking you to make it more often,” he smirked.

I felt my face flush, and I stood, hands on his knees as I leaned in. “No promises that I can make it again,” I said before standing and leaving the room.

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

A/N: I hope you guys like the slight changes I made! (I needed to yell at that bitch (Illario) and Zara so badddd)

Let me know if you want to be added to the Lucanis tag list or the Kalais tag list!

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kirby0strombolli · 8 months ago

Text

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P3

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 3: liar.

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

warnings: SMUT!, jerking off, cursing.

a/n: I've never written smut before bear with me guys 😭

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

"What's the matter, y/n?" he peers at me with utter malice in his eyes . "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I turned to cry out for help, but his hand closed around my mouth, muffling my screams.

Panic surged through me like a tidal wave. I struggled against his iron grip, but it was futile.

My vision began to blur, the world spinning around me as I fought to stay conscious.

'She had a bit too much to drink,' he chuckled to someone in the distance that I couldn't see.

His words echoed in my mind, each syllable a dagger of betrayal.

Lies. He's a liar. I thought in my head, unable to speak from the strong grip he had over my mouth.

No doubt he'd take me to his car and toss me into the trunk like all the unfortunate girls in the horror movies.

My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me like a freight train. My life had been turned into a horror movie - a nightmare that I couldn't escape.

Panic surged through me as I struggled against his grip, but it was no use. Matt's strength was overpowering, and I was helpless against him.

But before I could confront him, he removed his hand from my mouth, allowing me to speak. With trembling lips, I managed to stutter out, 'you're a liar.'

After receiving no reply, I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the inevitable, expecting to be roughly thrown into the trunk on his car.

But to my surprise, I felt Matt's touch gentle, not forceful. Instead of being tossed aside like a discarded toy, I was gently laid across the backseat of the car, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

I fought to stay conscious, my eyelids heavy as lead, but the world around me blurred into a chaotic mess of shadows and lights.

My fingers clawed at the seat, desperately seeking something to hold onto, but my strength was waning, slipping away like sand through my trembling hands.

Each breath felt like a struggle, the air thick and suffocating as it filled my lungs.

I could hear Matt's voice, distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. He spoke of things I couldn't comprehend, his words swirling around me in a dizzying whirlwind of confusion and fear.

But one sentence stood out to me, 'I killed him '.

But despite my best efforts, consciousness slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, until finally, I succumbed to the darkness, my mind plunging into the abyss of unconsciousness, and confusion.

______________________________________________________________

Matt's pov

As I drove down the deserted road, the weight of my actions hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.

Guilt gnawed at the edges of my conscience, as I tried to ignore the growing erection in my pants. But, as I glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a rush of desire surged through me, igniting an insatiable urge of lust.

Her disheveled hair framed her face in a tantalizingly tousled manner, her lips parted ever so slightly as she struggled to regain consciousness.

With each passing moment, my arousal grew, fueled by the soft murmurs and faint moans escaping her unconscious state.

It was wrong, I knew it, after the events at the party, the carnage that she had no idea about...

I couldn't bring myself to ignore my now painfully hard cock, stealing glances at her until I couldn't take it anymore.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with desire and temptation. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to suppress the lust and desire I had been battling with.

But with each delicate sound she made, a surge of heat washed over me, eroding whatever restraint I had left.

Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to quell the storm raging inside me. Even as I tried to resist, the pull of temptation was too strong to ignore.

This was wrong- I shouldn't be feeling like this when- I was interrupted by a loud moan, the lewd sounds going straight to my pulsing length.

'fuck it.' I muttered under my breath pulling the car over, wasting no time unbuttoning my jeans.

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

My head is pounding.

we're not moving. the car is not moving.

'fuck y/n'

The sound goes straight to my core, and I realise I'm wet before I even open my eyes.

As my eyelids flutter open, and I find myself gazing at Matt, who was pleasuring himself, his eyes screwed shut, his hand is pumping his cock, pleasured whimpers to slipping out of his mouth.

With each word, his tone grew more urgent, more fervent, until he was practically pleading, "Please, baby, I need you."

Unable to tear my gaze away, I watched transfixed as Matt's hand moved rhythmically over his length, each movement making me more wetter.

His soft groans filled the air, mingling with the sound of my own ragged breaths as arousal surged through me.

And then, as if unable to contain himself any longer, he succumbed to the overwhelming need, his voice breaking in a guttural moan of pleasure.

Despite the confusion and fear swirling in my mind, I couldn't deny the undeniable heat pooling between my thighs.

Rubbing my thighs together, I shifted uncomfortably against the seat, my body aching with need as a wave of desire washed over me.

Despite the wrongness of the situation, I couldn't deny the overwhelming hunger that pulsed through my veins.

______________________________________________________________

With a newfound surge of boldness, she mustered up the courage to speak, her voice dripping with seduction. "Need a hand there, ghostface?" she purred, gesturing to the mask that lay on the centre console

A wicked grin spread across Matt's face as he met her gaze, his eyes sparkling with lust. "Ride me, cowgirl," he growled, his voice seductively low.

After throwing off her denim skirt, she made her way to the driver's seat, to be met with the sight of Matt, his red tip now leaking with pre-cum.

With a sultry smile, she straddled him, feeling his hardness pressing against her as she sank down onto his lap.

As she sank onto Matt's lengthy dick, she threw her head back in pleasure, as she, at an agonisingly slow pace, began to rock her hips against his, back and forth.

In a haze of desire, Matt reached for the cowboy hat resting nearby and gently placed it on her head. "You look so sexy, ma," he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine

Matt's eyes began to close as he gripped her hips tightly as she quickened her pace, beginning to bounce on his dick, as his lips connected with her neck, marking what was his.

He began to trail his lips down to her chest and let out a deep groan as she clenched around him, bucking his hips up as y/n's eyes began to glaze over in pleasure, her mouth open, small gasps audible over Matt's deep groans.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You're mine," before sinking his teeth gently into her neck again , marking her as his.

Her breath hitched at her possessive declaration, his hands moving down to her ass, and squeezing, making her clench around his cock.

'I'm yours' she whined, her tits bouncing urgently as she chased her climax. That's when Matt became rough, the grip on her ass getting tighter and tighter as he pushed her down onto his cock, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Matt's hands roamed eagerly over her, tracing every curve with a hunger that matched her own. With each thrust of her hips, she surrendered to the ecstasy coursing through her veins, her moans mingling with his.

As Matt thrust into her, his movements became more urgent, his every motion calculated to send waves of pleasure crashing over her.

With each deep penetration, he seemed to hit her g-spot with pinpoint precision, eliciting moans of ecstasy from deep within her throat.

As she felt the climax building inside her, she arched her back, pressing her body tightly against Matt's as . "Oh, fuck... Matt...Don't stop!" she cried out, her voice filled with raw desire.

She arched her back, pressing her body closer to his as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, her breath hot against his skin,"Shit, that's it, baby... Come for me," Matt urged, his eyes closed in pleasure.

As they both tumbled over the edge, curse words spilled from his lips, lost in the throes of ecstasy. As she sighed in pleasure, her eyes fluttered shut.

Impossibly, she slept.

taglist:@lexisecretaccx@itssophiasstuff@junnniiieee07

comment if you want to be added to the taglist a/n: I couldn't write the smut with a straight face I'm sorry 😭

shoutout to @freshloveforthefit and @louiscarrotsxoxo because they're amazing.

#matt sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut #ghostface #matt sturniolo x reader

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

Note

Conrad Fisher !!😭✌🏻

request: reader has had a crush on conrad since she was little and everybody knows it and one night they all get drunk on the beach and she admits it in front of everyone

You’re Everything To Me.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST!

Summery: All of her life, Y/n has always known Conrad was it for her. Unfortunately for her, her best friend, Belly begins to take a liking to him as well. She never imagined having to compete for Conrad, but when Belly changes one summer, so does she.

Sometimes I wake up in a sweat, nightmares keeping me awake that are fueled simply by the unshakable feeling that this summer could be the end of it all.

The shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I pick apart my skin beneath my fingers. I rub the pads of my thumb under my eyes, I smooth over the wrinkles by my smile. I comb through my hair and straighten out my back. I examine my smile, pick apart the way my teeth show, the way my eyes shift. I despise the way my nose crinkles up and how my eyebrows move. I hate the way I feel about myself, like I am not enough. I should cherish my body. The way it dips and curves. I should love the skin on my stomach and the dimples in my back. It makes me feel guilty that I am so unhappy with something I am so blessed to have.

I try to be tough, I say I don’t care. But I could never let this go, I can’t be strong. I hold onto every detail of my body like my life depends on it. I hear my teachers and my friends, my sister and my brother. I hear them all complaining and suddenly their voices become the ones in my head. The ones the shame me and tear me apart. Suddenly, I am no longer just enough, I am slipping away and there’s no telling why.

It doesn’t help how sick I’ve fallen over my best friend. The blonde haired boy with a slump in his shoulders and a dusty blue shirt hanging over his chest. He has the most contagious smile and the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He never made me feel out of place, but seeing his type, the ones he so desperately chases each summer, I can’t help but to notice how different I am from the women he brings home. Even after each heartbreak, each further push into my own head I still, he’s still everything to me. His opinions, his feelings. I hold them over my own as I have never loved someone as hard or as true. As long or as consuming.

It was never a secret as to what I felt towards him. The puppy dog eyes and the way my cheeks would heat up. How my actions differed to make him like me more. Susannah told me it was romantic, Laurel called me an idiot for falling so hard. She said one day the pit would find its bottom and I would fracture my spine. I wouldn’t be able to feel my legs and I would crumble from the situation I was putting myself in. Even then, I argued against her. I told her it wouldn’t end so sourly. I wouldn’t allow it.

How naive I was to believe I had the power. I can only control myself, how did I expect to be able to stop everyone else from changing, from hurting.

Belly came home to the summer house this summer, her hair was silkier. Her eyes brighter and eyelashes longer. Her teeth were perfect, much more than mine. Her braces were gone and so were her glasses. I swore I could see a sparkling glow outlining her body when she stepped out of the car. At first I was happy for her, happy she had grown into herself and finally realized how beautiful she had always been. Ditched her insecurities, the same ones I still dealt with each second of every hour.

I remember having looked back to find Jeremiah. How excited he would be to see how she’d grown up. He always payed extra attention to her. Not in the same nurturing way Conrad did, but he still held onto everything she did, everything she said or cried about and kept it locked in a safe place in his brain. I didn’t find Jeremiah, though. No, the curly headed boy wasn’t the one I was looking at. It was the salt water blonde waves and sunburnt cheeks I found already standing behind me. His eyes wide and mouth opened. He looked almost shocked by what he saw. His younger sister in a way, growing up into another woman he could love.

The bottom of the pit grew closer and closer everyday since that moment. How my best friend, the boy that used to beg to hide away from the world so it could be just us forever, started bringing around her. It felt like my entire world had changed. It felt like in a sense he had brought a girl into our metaphorical bed. Our inside jokes were shared. They didn’t feel secret now that she was telling them. They weren’t funny coming out of her mouth. I should love this, I love her. She’s my sister in so many ways but I can’t help but hate her.

Hate the way she whispers in his ear, how he smiles back at her and laughs. How not only had we lost our jokes but now they had their own. My spot next to him in the car became hers. The boardwalk showdown became their competition. The beach was no longer our spot. It was theirs. With each day, he found more ways to include her in what we were doing. We were never alone. The more they laughed, the more they touched, the more and more I gave into my thoughts. Meals became bland, calories counted to precision. My hair was always down to cover the back of my neck. I felt so insecure, so unhappy.

I could feel the end approaching between Conrad and I. The shock waves passing through my bones, adrenaline rushing to prepare for the crash. My limbs shook every time he was near. They never did that before. The way my breath would hitch, my eyes would water. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. It was no longer just about my dislike towards Belly, but more to my own towards him.

Everyone always commented on how obvious it was. Jeremiah used to tease me over how I’d fallen for the most boring person alive. To me, he wasn’t boring. Everything he did held so much meaning. Now I’m starting to believe it was just me overthinking it. Giving him more credit than what was due out of my own sick mind and my obsession with him.

Steven always said we would be perfect together. How his sister was too young, too immature. He loved her, we all knew it, he was so protective over who she could see. He was a great older brother but even he knew that no one could give and give like what I had done for Conrad. Nobody could love him the way I did. He knew what I felt from elementary school. Before I did. I was just so obvious. But this was all before Belly became Conrad’s standards of beautiful. Maybe that statement held no water anymore.

The worst part was Belly knew it too. I confided to her for years. Cried in her lap over how destroyed I was over his new girlfriend. How angry it made me feel to know I wasn’t enough and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t change my nose or my cheeks. I have no power over how big the gap between my thighs is, losing weight isn’t enough anymore. Each time she consoled me. Reassured me how one day he would see me and how great I was. She knew, she knew it was so much more than some unrequited love story. Yet, she still went for him.

I always knew deep down Belly had a small crush on Conrad. For her, Jeremiah was never enough. Her love might be stronger for the tanner, happier brother, but he didn’t give her the same complexity’s that Conrad did. He didn’t make her think as hard or push her as far. It was like I didn’t even matter when she made the decision between them in her head. All the late nights and the red noses from the backs of our hands and the endless tissues scattered weren’t of any importance to her. She could care less watching me fall apart. Even if it wasn’t official yet, by doing so she had lost her right to the title of best friend in the story of my life.

Her eyes watched mine, the way they watered and shined, avoidant of their quick touches and gushy eyes. How my heart broke watching his eyes flicker down to her lips, how hers did the same. I couldn’t bare to think about what would happen if I weren’t there to clear my throat or announce something that wasn’t all that interesting in the distance. Each time Conrad played into it, giving me his divided attention and Belly would mumble something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Everything this summer led me to this very moment, stumbling and batting my eyelashes at some stranger who showed me just an ounce of attention. He was no Conrad, god, how could anyone ever compare to him? He hung the moon and the stars and he painted the universe with his best blues and purples. The constellations were his works of art and the birds were his friends. He was the reason for everything to me but, the man in front of me was so much older and wiser. He was beautiful. Tanned and fit. He had scruff on his jawline and under his nose, his hair was messy and eyes a gorgeous green.

Sober me would have never bought into the game he was playing. She would have pushed away the hand that rested so easily on the curve of my ass. She would have never let him talk her into drinking. Not when she knew that she wasn’t eating, wasn’t strong enough to hold it down and would instantly fall victim to the strong beverage in the red solo cup. But I wasn’t sober, and I wasn’t stable. I was hurting, the touch of someone else even under false circumstances made my heart ache just a little bit less.

Stumbling into him a little, we shared a laugh, I let out a soft apology and he waved it off. He didn’t care so much, he wasn’t complicated. He was a potential hookup at a bone fire and a damn good distraction. I had no reason to feel so much pressure to be great around him.

A silence fell over us. His hands moving back to where they were before he had to help stable me. He squeezed at my skin, molding it rough under his fingertips. Part of me felt dirty for doing this. Being so insecure I allowed myself to give into someone who was such a inappropriate match for me. I got lost in his eyes anyways. Even if it was a fake loss of direction, even if I knew what I was doing, I let myself become swallowed whole by him. I allowed gravity to pull him towards me, my feet rising to my tip toes, I didn’t think about how his lips felt once going in for it, I didn’t process how he smelled or if he had dimples or not. I just went for it.

The touch of his mouth on mine was rough, dry. His lips felt like stone against mine. It was gross and unfulfilling yet I pushed forward and let him consume and take whatever he wanted from me. I let him use me out of my own selfish need to heal. To forget. His lips were ripped from mine, the hand that was rested on his arm pulled away, our bodies separated roughly.

“What the hell!” I was shocked more than angry, looking back at the guy who was now looking at me with the same look. It took a second for my feet to catch up with my body. For my brain to process who was so quick to tear me away from the best chance I had of letting go of Conrad for tonight. As if it were fate, the culprit was him.

“Conrad let me go!” I thrashed in his hold, pushing off the sand to try and get away. Hide away in the crowd and slip out of his sight. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even look me in my eyes.

I always dreamed of how it would feel to have his arms around me. Having him holding my waist as he spun me. How I would lean down and kiss him just because I love him that much. He would kiss me back because he would love me that much too. I never imagined this is how it would happen. His hands clasping around his own wrist while he lifted me up and rushed to a more private area.

“N-no!” I slurred, managing to claw at his skin enough to get him off of me. The sand was soft. In a way, my body hitting the ground below felt like the bottom of the pit Laurel had described. The bottom was finally here and it was my own fault for going down there in the first place. I was dying.

Even with the scene I was making, he still tried to help me up. He looked so concerned, so worried about me. Like he wanted nothing more to make everything okay. His hands touched my skin so soft, it reminded me why sober me never did like the way hookups would grab at me so rough. Conrad was always so gentle with me. So calm, so patient.

I didn’t want to push him away but he made me feel so pathetic, so childish then and I was so angry. My hands pushed him away. I pushed him away like how I was trying to push my feeling away.

“No, get the fuck away.” My words were sloppy but harsh. Even while standing on wobbly legs I felt confident that I wouldn’t need his support anymore. I just wouldn’t look at him in the eyes.

“Y/n, you’re drunk.” He tried to reason, hands waving to try and calm me down. A crowd was forming. I could see Jeremiah and Steven rushing down to us, ready to help Conrad in sobering me up, containing me. It made me even more angry how it was so wrong for me to feel like this. How it was so embarrassing how I was so crushed over everything that happened this summer. I was made to feel guilty about things I had no control over.

“Conrad, you don’t get it.” I looked to the sky to contain my tears. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel weak anymore.

“I do, I do.” He assured me, moving closer with each step I took away from him. He was talking about my current sobriety, he didn’t know any better that it was so much more.

“No, no you don’t.” I begged him to understand. I hated myself for crying, I felt so small underneath him when I cried. So inferior and childish compared to him. It made me feel sick.

The invisible room that held us fell quiet, his eyes searching my face, wondering what was getting me so worked up. Why was I crying? What had happened? My feet worked faster than my head, I took a staggering breath in.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I can’t feel like this anymore, Conrad.” In my head I always called him Conrad, it made everything seem so much more mature and real. Maybe that’s why I didn’t call him the nickname he adored so much then. In some way, the weak feeling that my crying made me feel was balanced out by the lack of the informal nickname, Con.

“Feel like what?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was raised. Not because he was mad, but because he was confused. I knew this because I know Conrad. Like Jeremiah does with Belly, I keep each detail locked away for safe keeping. I memorized what he does and who he is. Unlike Jeremiah, I do not keep Conrad locked away in my head. Everything Conrad has a home in my heart.

“Like I’m drowning around you!” I begged for him to see what I meant. If my tears and my hiccups weren’t enough of a reason for him to try harder to understand there was no getting through to him. He simply shook his head then, not knowing what to say.

“Y/n what is wrong with you?” He responded in the only way he knew how, with authority and anger. He wasn’t really angry, but Conrad didn’t know how to express that. He only knew how to push away and string along. He didn’t have it in him to show just how compassionate and caring I knew him to always be.

In my little drunk head I only felt more pain, more anger, more sadness. Too emotional to try and tell him everything that was wrong. But instead it all built and built until it came out. I wanted to vomit with how worked up I was. I could feel everyone’s eyes burning into my body, but most importantly I could feel his.

“I don’t want to love you anymore.” It came out weakly. It was like admitting it now out loud, I had suddenly lost all fight I had. Coming to terms with something I knew I was feeling for awhile but never had the guts to say out loud.

“…What?” His voice shook. It was like watching his face drain of any color, eyes wide just as they were when Belly had showed up in June and caught his eyes. His mouth was open and eyes brows furrowed. He looked so lost, so confused and conflicted. How could he have been so oblivious? Did he really not care that much to never pay enough attention to see it?

“Don’t make me repeat it.” I pleaded more quietly, sucking in a harsh breath and breathing out with a huff. My top lip tucked itself under my teeth, I drew blood and swallowed. When it settled back on my face normally, I felt bite marks.

“I have spent every summer trying to be something you might like because I am so fucking in love with you that it physically hurts me to even imagine how you’ll leave me. I hate how rotten my mind has become by me getting so addicted to you. I’m jealous and I’m bitter and I’m hurting and you can’t even see that! And I’m angry because we can’t even fight about it because the people that are hurting me the most are my best friends! Maybe if we could argue, if you knew…” I choked on air, trying to find grounding to hold me down. Keep me from slipping. My eyes left his, I had to clear them, make them see I would be okay. I found Steven and Jeremiah watching me. I knew it would be okay. They would defend my honor to the whole damn nation if it came to it.

“If you knew how much I care. If I knew you gave a damn about how I act, what I do, maybe I could convince myself that you seeing someone who isn’t me would hurt less.” My hands hit my sides, my lips quivered. If my heart wasn’t broken then, it was now seeing how Conrad still couldn’t find it in him to fight me even while I explicitly asked for it.

“All I do is try, and try, and try to make you happy. I hold my tongue, I support you and I hold you while you cry about the next girl who broke your heart. I’ve tried to stop loving you and I don’t know why I can’t. I’m an idiot for thinking anyone else could take your place but I’m even bigger of an idiot for giving you that place to begin with. And I’m done with it, Conrad. I can’t keep tearing myself apart for you. I can’t and I’m not sorry about it anymore.” For a second I waited for what he had to say. I waited and waited but it never came. He stood there and accepted what I had to say silently and showed no fight against it. My head shook quickly and my shoulder brushed his. I could sit there and beg him to care about something he clearly didn’t want to fight for.

“Y/n…” His voice was drawn out, I could tell he had turned to face me because his voice was clearer than before. If I turned then, I would surely crumble underneath his fingers again. I would submit myself to the torture I had just so openly screamed about to the whole town. Airing out the wounds that bled so intensely down my skin.

Passing the boy, I could see fully behind his taller frame. I could make out the teary eyed expression that Belly wore on her face. She looked stiff, shocked by all I had to say. Like she hadn’t expected me to tell Conrad my feels ever. Keep it like a dirty secret and let it consume me until I would inevitably die alone in her perfect fantasy.

My feet stopped in front of her and though I wanted to hit her, beat her until she could feel what I felt each time she purposefully broke my heart by having the privilege to love the man I so deeply adored but it was already over. I was already dead, there was no reason for me to invite her to the wake.

“Y/n.” She started, I could hear it.

“Congratulations, Belly. Conrad’s all yours.” I nodded my head bitterly, sniffling and wiping away my tears violently. I didn’t want her to know that she was sort of the reason I was so angry. She didn’t deserve to comfort me anymore. If she wanted that privilege, she shouldn’t have went behind my back.

“No, Y/n that’s now what I want.” She tried to reason with me, hands raised to try and stop me, even if I wasn’t moving.

“It’s too late then, isn’t it?” My words were venomous falling from my mouth. Fueled by pure betrayal and heartbreak. I couldn’t look at her anymore. Conrad wasn’t mine and neither was she. Belly had made her choice even if she hadn’t meant to. I was constantly upset feeling so immature with how I was handling her and Conrad. Self loathing in how much I hated my body. How the longer they flirted the less I ate and the more I picked myself apart. Each laugh made my teeth look more yellow, each look made my hips look wider. I am so tough on the outside but I become mush when I am alone until I am nothing but a puddle in their hands.

Walking past her on the beach, they didn’t try to chase me. All I heard was distant yelling and a following silence. A rift that was being created by the undying love I held for Conrad between the happy couple and the only ones who had my back, Steven and Jeremiah.

But it was no longer my problem. I would hurt openly. I would let them hear my sobs, I would not try to hide how I felt simply so they wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of what they did to me.

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