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blancetude · 2 years ago

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One Mora. Two Mora. (2)

Childe x Zhongli x Fem!Reader

( ANON REQUEST )

➢ 18+ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

➢𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: Childe lets his best friend have a taste.

➢𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut

➢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: consensual non-con, dub-con, public sex, fingering, degrading, double pen

➢𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.7k

** NOT PROOFREAD **

➢𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Part 01

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You barely had any time to recover before you were being swept up in a pair of strong arms and plopped down onto a firm lap, your legs being spread open by thick thighs and gloved hands digging into your flesh.

The room was spinning so you nuzzled into the crook of the neck before you, taking in the scent of crisp ocean water you’d come to adore.

Childe chuckled at how your cute actions rivaled your lewd display in front of his trusted friend.

“Don’t give up now baby, you still need to take care of Mr. Zhongli don’t you?” He cooed into your ear, his soft voice making your cunt clench desperately as his warm release was slowly seeping down your thigh making Zhongli’s jaw clench at the sight.

Childe moved his gloved hand from your thigh to your aching entrance, dipping two fingers in to spread you apart in a vulgar display.

The red-head smirked against the crown of your head as Zhongli’s eyes glowed golden as he watched your body twitch and squirm beneath him.

“Go on,” Childe said mischievously as he kissed the top of your head lovingly, “you don’t want to keep our princess waiting do you? Look at how ready she is, isn’t that right angel?”

You desperately nodded and clutched at Childe’s jacket, your hips rolling back to meet this fingers’ pace.

“Use your words.” He ordered, his tone firm.

With weak arms you placed your open palms against his chest and lifted yourself up, turning your neck enough to see the other large man towering over you, his golden eyes moved their fixed stare to your own teary ones.

“Please Mister.” You whined, arching your back to present yourself so beautifully, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

Any resolve Zhongli held onto was now out the window as he cursed under his breath and began to shed his restrictive clothing off much to the delight of your needy eyes.

The little show didn’t last long however as Childe lifted his other gloved hand to grip your chin and turn your face back his way bringing his lips to yours hungrily, his larger tongue played against yours as he explored you carefully, groaning softly as he never grew tired of your sweet taste.

A large warm hand broke you from your trance, Zhongli’s slim fingers gingerly cupped your bottom giving it an appreciative squeeze before pushing down against the middle of your back so you could arch for him.

You looked back only to gasp at the sight of his arms. His exposed torso was littered in scars of all kinds much like Childe’s, but what really caught your eye was the pitch black skin with gold designs running up his muscular arms.

Tattoos? No– where they glowing?

“Surely you’ve caught on by now haven’t you angel?” Childe chuckled as he brought up his gloved hand to his lips and bit the leather material, slowly shedding them off.

The gears in your head tried to turn as fast as they could but all thoughts dried up when the raven haired man began to pull his pants down, his thick cock slapping his defined tummy as he kicked the rest of his clothes away and made his way back to you.

If you thought Childe was huge you were positive Mr. Zhongli would absolutely tear you apart.

“I-I can’t!” You said in a moment of panic, trying to squirm your way out of a Childe’s hold only for said man to wrap his arms around your torso in an iron clad grip. He’d moved your face back into the crook of his neck as he began to stroke your hair tenderly.

“None of that now princess. You promised you’d be a good girl right? Unless you want me to bring in some Agents and let them watch as I punish this cute little hole. Maybe let them have a taste?”

You immediately shook your head in apology, the disappointment laced in Childe’s voice was enough to make your heart sink. You wanted to make him proud of you, even if you were a bit scared but you had to be his good girl.

“I’ll be gentle.” Zhongli leaned down to coo into your ear as you felt the thick head of his cock nudge between your lips, collecting the mix of your and Childe’s release before bullying himself into your sopping heat.

There was slight resistance as he stretched you out just a bit more but you muffled any noises of discomfort as your teeth sank into the juncture of Childe’s neck, making the red head groan at the delicious sting.

Zhongli gripped your trembling thighs, trying to stay grounded as he felt himself slowly lose himself in your heat, and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck–“ the ex-Archon cursed under his breathe making you shiver, never having heard anything remotely improper from the man before.

Zhongli held still for a moment for you to catch your breathe before he slowly pulled out, the pull of your walls desperate to keep him in enough to throw all rational out the window and slam his hips back into your ass, pushing you up higher Childe’s chest as your fingers held onto his jacket for dear life.

The room filled with sounds of skin on skin, your muffled cries, and a few deep grunts that slipped from Zhongli’s lips that only made more slick drool from your cunt down Zhongli’s hard shaft.

In any other situation you’d be mortified to be seen in such a state by anyone other than Childe but the way the other man’s fingers ran down your body to rub hard circles against your bundle of nerves had you panting out incoherently.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds from us baby, let Mr. Zhongli know how good he’s making you feel.” Childe chuckled as he took a handful of your hair and tugged your head back, revealing your fucked out expression.

“Look at you, absolutely fucking beautiful.” Childe praised before a second hand tilted your chin up and a pair of soft lips muffled your moans.

You felt your eyes roll back in ecstasy as Childe took advantage of your position to lean down and take your left nipple into his mouth, rolling the hardened nub between his teeth before giving it a hard suck.

“She was made for this wasn’t she? Her greedy hole keeps sucking me in, you gonna milk me dry honey?” Zhongli said almost mockingly into your ear. The deep rumble of his voice forced your toes to curl as you babbled a broken sentence that made the men chuckle.

Childe released your nub with a wet pop before sliding his hands down past Zhongli’s until he was able to trace where you and the ex-Archon were connected.

Your head snapped down, eyes wild and pupils blown out with lust as Childe’s middle finger prodded at your already stuffed hole. “Such a cock-hungry little thing deserves to be spoiled doesn’t she? Think you can continue being my good girl?”

Your heart beating picked up, the muscle beating loudly in your ears as you processed what he had meant. They really were going to tear you into two pieces.

You nodded before your rational and fear could catch up to you making Childe beam with delight. He reached down and slipped his already hardened length from his pants to position towards your hole.

Zhongli slowed his pace until he came to a full stop, looking down and spreading your cheeks before spitting right where you connected forcing a terrible feeling of shame and lust combined.

“She can take it. She’s begging for it.”

Childe would have prepped you better, he honestly would, but the need to feel your wet heat around him was greater than anything else so he didn’t think twice when he bullied his thick length into you, shushing your pained wail with a gentle kiss.

Your body trembled as pain shot up your spine and clouded your eyes with white stars. It felt like minutes, hours, centuries until you were able to focus on Childe’s ocean blue eyes through your own teary ones.

“Shh, it’s okay pretty girl. You can take it, I know you can.” Childe peppered kisses along your cheeks and jaw while Zhongli gently stroked your back until you felt the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach pull at the stretch.

You muttered something softly, making the men turn their attention down to you. “What was that princess? We can’t hear you.”

You hesitated for a moment before speaking up. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”

Something feral exploded within the two men at your words as they suddenly moved into action, their large hands holding whatever part of you they could before pounding into you.

Your body and mind failed to work any further as you lay limp between the two bodies and let them use you for their own greedy pleasure.

“Just one more, come on, give us just one more.” Childe groaned as he played with your clit, forcing the coil in your tummy to tighten, tighten, tighten, until suddenly the pressure was too much and your release washed over you like a cold wave.

You didn’t even know if you cried out or not as a deafening white noise clouded your mind.

Childe was the first to release followed quickly by Zhongli who leaned down and bite into your shoulder much to the annoyance of Childe who was too blissed out to be too upset about it.

Your body looked more like a rag doll than a person as the men gently pulled out of you and laid you next to Childe with your back against the hard couch.

The red head lifted your legs apart and groaned at the sight of globs of cum being pushed out of your cunt as it clenched pitifully around nothing.

“Did I do good?” You managed to mumble through your dry throat. You looked over at Zhongli who was busy getting re-dressed as if nothing had happened before turning to you with a soft smile.

His tall figure leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead, one re-gloved hand brushing your sweaty bangs from your eyes. “You were perfect.”

Childe was quickly to push in between you two and place his jacket over your nude form. “Rest now princess, you deserve it.”

#reader insert #genshin impact #genshin x you #female reader #genshin fanfic #childe smut #zhongli smut #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #dark Childe #dark zhongli

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thatgirlonstage · 6 months ago

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mermay prompt: JamiKali + gold?

I'm not entirely happy with the way I ended this one but if I keep picking at it I will run out of time to work on other prompts so I'm calling it good. Keep an eye on the Ao3 collection next year, I might put a revised version up once I've had longer to sit on it. I really like the worldbuilding concept I'm playing with, anyway :3

(also I hope you see this, nonny — sorry for taking most of the month to get to it!!!)

———

Mermaids cry pearls and their scales are made of gold.

Those are the kinds of myths that Jamil grows up hearing, circulating in whispers through the bazaar, repeated like a dreamy incantation by traders in their cups, posted in hashtags below visibly photoshopped images of supposed beachside treasures.

“If only they knew, huh Jamil?” Kalim giggles by his side, letting silk run over his hands like water. When his fingers lift away, there’s an embroidered pattern of fish leaping along the edge of the headscarf, flashing in the sunlight. Kalim’s smile is brighter than the pure silver of the thread, a searing thing, white teeth a slash in his brown skin. “I don’t think these people even believe mermaids really exist.”

Jamil bites down hard on the urge to tell him to shut up. Drawing any attention will only make Kalim’s remarks seem significant to anyone who already overheard them. He bites down so hard that his lip splits. He tastes iron. Kalim, brow furrowing, reaches up and swipes a thumb over Jamil’s mouth.

When mermaid blood is spilled on sand, it turns into rubies.

“Are you all right?” Kalim asks, popping his bloodied thumb back out of his mouth. “You’ve been so quiet today.” He spits a shard of something glittering and red into his palm, considers it, and discards it on the ground. A moment later, Jamil hears a muffled exclamation from behind them. He does not look back. Looking back will only draw attention. People exclaim in bazaars all the time.

“It’s too hot,” he says by way of excuse. “It’s making me tired.”

Kalim pokes him in the shoulder, a friendly reproach. “You should have said! I would’ve come on my own. It’s only the groceries.”

“Last time I let you go on your own, you left an entire frieze of the legend of Sinbad carved over the entrance of the fish merchant’s stall.”

Mermaids have sea silk for hair. I bet if you plucked a mermaid’s eyelashes they’d be made of saffron.

Kalim laughs, the sound high and bright and as bubbly as a stream. “I forgot about that! The poor man was so confused.” He trails just the edge of his pinky finger along a piece of pottery, and the mosaic pattern gains a thin golden outline. “I’m sorry I make you worry, but it’s just that your magic is so abundant, I’m overflowing all the time.” He leans up and presses his lips to Jamil’s cheek. “Take a little back, okay? It’ll help me behave.”

When a mermaid kisses you, forever after, every time you speak, gems will fall from your lips.

Jamil feels his own magic surge backward into his skin, electricity racing up and down his spine. It sits there, crouching in his nerves, making every hair on the back of his neck stand up, locked in his blood. He inhales sharply and lets the breath hiss back out between his teeth.

“Warn me when you’re about to do that,” he says. “It’s not exactly comfortable.”

“Oops.” Kalim looks contrite. “Sorry, I gave you back a little more than I meant to!” He reaches as if to take some of it again, but Jamil jerks his head away.

“It’s fine.” The magic pulls at his tendons, crackling with unreleased potential. He grits his teeth against the scraping, scrabbling, screaming need for release, the way it hits a wall at every turn. Kalim is at least no longer quietly turning every pebble he steps on into sea glass.

“Your magic really is just that potent,” Kalim tells him, settling back into his place next to Jamil, grin diamond-white in the afternoon sun. “I can make anything you want, Jamil.” He slides his hand into Jamil’s, interlocking their fingers. “Just ask. Whenever you want anything, just ask and it’s all yours.”

Jamil hopes the smile he gives in return looks less forced than it feels. He can’t bring himself to speak, to tell Kalim the truth. He only breathes and lets himself imagine the contact of their palms makes his magic trickle back into Kalim a little faster, that the pounding desperation in his skull to let the magic out of his skin is a little lessened, that the tightness of his jaw is due to sun and stress and hours spent with Kalim as company, and not a curse weaving its prohibition into his tongue and teeth, stopping any spell from passing his lips.

If someone asked Jamil Viper to tell them a story about mermaids, this is what he would have said:

It’s true, mermaids can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.

But they can’t do it alone. They have to borrow your magic.

If you wish, you can promise them magic in return for jewels, for gold, for pearls, for anything your heart could desire.

So go to the river if you want, trail a finger in the water under the full moon, and send out a spark to let one of them know you want to talk.

But be careful.

Once you’ve made a pact with one it cannot be undone.

They will stay bound to your bloodline forever.

———

Mermay prompts are open until May 31st!

#twst #twisted wonderland #jamikali #mermay #jamil viper #kalim al asim #my writing

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popjunkie42 · 3 months ago

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Painted Blind Chapter Three

Read on AO3

Summary: What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Chapter Three: Feyre learns the unintended consequences of becoming Feyre fae-killer. The Archeron family receives an invitation.

Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta read, hand holding and advice!

I also have a beautiful commission art piece by June Page I’ve posted.

I’m really excited for the next few chapters as we get to delve into some more sister stuff along with exploring the human territory a bit more…

Chapter under the cut or Read on AO3.

The next morning, there were offerings at the door from the village.

It wasn’t until I had stepped outside in the morning to grab firewood that I saw our front stoop had been visited. There were…offerings. Lovely stacks of small gifts: an iron ring on a plain wooden dish, a pile of dried figs wrapped in a canvas bag, winter apples, a small carving of a wolf’s head, and a sprig of dried flowers.

No one from the village had ever given me anything before.

Coming here, my father, sisters and I had learned quickly that poverty hit this place too hard for begging to be of any use. The most well-off in our village still had lean times without bread and the refined folk down the road that deigned to come to market day would do nothing but sneer and kick at us. There was a line even for the burned and stale bread at the bakery. And tempting as it was, I refused to accept the occasional offers of ale at the tavern from the men whose eyes sparked after too many glasses themselves.

Richard Dannon had been good to his word, and had come to our ramshackle cabin just a few hours later with a purse of gold and breathless thanks. He eyed me the whole time as if I were some sort of dangerous beast that might turn and snap at him at any moment, just like the head I had brought him that morning. I didn’t ask what he planned to do with it.

The man in his fine suit and wan face had offered to keep some of the funds in the bank in Innisville - our old village, when we had been in society and not known the pains of hunger.

I said I’d consider it.

But I hadn’t thought about much at all, really, after scrubbing my skin raw and sleeping most of the day.

If my mind wandered anywhere it was to what Isaac and the gaggle of boys around our age would think; at how the other hunters in the village might greet me at the next market day. How I could walk past those who sometimes laughed at me or threatened me with a reason to hold my head high.

On the second day, the gifts were even more lavish.

Nesta and Elain’s eyes had gone wide as we all shuffled out in our blankets that morning. There was a bouquet of vibrant hothouse flowers that made Elain gasp. Dried meats and a small bag of flour and candies - a bag of peppermints.

For once, we hadn’t fought. Nesta’s eyes had glittered as she offered the bag to Elain, who deeply inhaled the sugary scent and selected one with delicate fingers, as if it were a sparkling diamond. Then she passed the bag to me, smiling wide, reveling in being able to share now instead of fighting over meager morsels.

I couldn’t remember, exactly, the last time I had tasted candy like this. But some recollection was buried deep within me, as the first taste of sugar flooded my memories, filling my mouth as I sucked.

A moment later we were all smiling at each other, laughing at the heady rush, at the crunch under our teeth and the tiny sweet memories of another life.

On the third day, the gifts were even more. Coins of all kinds. Bread rolls and pastries, and a small wheel of cheese. More flowers and dried up bits of the forest. And on the windowsill, a silver chain with a small stamped charm.

On the third day, as well, there were people waiting. Just a few - staring nervously as I cracked the door open and emerged, my sisters behind me.

A woman in fine black clothes approached me.

“I would ask your name, but everyone on the western shore knows it now.” Her voice was a hoarse croak, as if she had been screaming. Weary, bloodshot eyes seemed to confirm my suspicion.

“Um, I - sorry, I don’t know your name.” I remembered that once I had had lessons, etiquette, learning to curtsy and address all manner of people. My mother would be rolling over in her grave, now.

Gloved hands grasped my own tightly, and she shoved a folded letter into my hands, her eyes turning to shimmering pools. It had looked like she wanted to say more, but she had left a moment later - a weary trudge back towards the main road.

I made Elain read me the letter later that evening, when Nesta had gone to bed and father was snoring quietly by the fire.

Her son had fallen to the beast’s hunger. I didn’t let myself think as to whether I had seen his bones littered in front of the cave. She had written of her sorrow, and the hope that with his death avenged, her son would finally be at peace.

I didn’t know if I believed in that, if there was peace or anything at all to be had after we finally closed our eyes for good, if any old gods existed to guide us there. But I hoped for her sake it was true, or at least that the belief would let her sleep more soundly at night. Maybe we all would, knowing one such monster was gone from our lands.

I had hoped for the stability that came with gold, to avoid hunger and the cold, to maybe earn a little respect from the village.

I hadn’t expected anything like this.

An anxious part of me remembered the beast’s words, still so strong it was as if they rumbled through my chest. I am only what comes before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was also on the third day that my father started acting strange, an unsettled gleam in his eyes as he stared into the fire.

His eyes had taken on a sharpness that had been absent for so long. And his attentions drifted back to me, to all of us. I would glance up from sharpening my knife at the table to find him looking at me, a crease in his brow, a small frown on his face.

As wary as I was, it almost felt good to see him like this - sharp, animated, and directing his attention towards me more than he ever had before. It reminded me of our life so long ago, when he had presided over a mighty wood-carved desk oiled to a shine and sat shoulder-deep amidst the richest treasures of the world.

When he had been…powerful.

That afternoon, we made our way to the marketplace for the first time since my hunt. We had walked together, even my father joining us with his cane, standing closer together than I could remember us ever doing. Nesta scowled, and Elain gripped my arm tight enough to pinch as we wandered through the square, meeting face after face filled with awe and wonder.

Some of them murmured my name, a strange, unsettling echo throughout the road. Feyre. Feyre Archeron. Fae-killer. A few even put their hands upon their hearts, and bowed in respect.

Bathed in blood, I heard someone whisper.

I didn’t know how to feel. My face was burning under all the attention, all the scrutiny. The village elders met us in the town square to shake my hand, the same ones that had turned us away again and again when we were at our most desperate.

Nesta had seethed beside me, only the smile of our father staying our words.

I didn’t have time for this. For any of it, least of all the nervous, unsettled feeling curdling in my gut.

I had things to do: I had to make change the best I could, for few in the village could exchange an entire gold piece. We had agreed upon some small initial purchases. Mostly I hoped that getting my sisters a few coveted items would douse those ravenous looks they gave every time the bag of coins sat upon the table. I needed to find a safer place to keep it than under the floorboards.

And I needed, desperately, to see the healer again. When I had first seen him a few days ago, he had done little more than give me a salve and poked around the bones in my hand as I tried not to scream. At least he had given me a tonic for the pain.

But I hadn’t been able to sleep last night, a burning numbness sometimes creeping past the pain of the shattered bone and torn ligaments. It was somehow worse. I had formed a new habit of pricking my fingertips with my nails, trying to coax some feeling back into them.

Fifty gold coins was fine. But it wouldn’t last my whole life. And I needed my hand to hunt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day after, father had mysteriously been gone in the morning by the time we all woke. He had returned hours later, his cheeks flush and three new dresses clutched in his arms.

He had hung them on the wall in display as I bit my tongue. They were simple, but made of fine fabric that draped well. Robin’s egg blue for me, slate grey for Nesta, and pale pink for Elain. We were to go to the market again, but as properly dressed ladies.

They had to cost at least a gold piece, perhaps even two.

I wondered how many gold pieces my hand was worth.

Still, something inside quieted me just for now. This was the first interest our father had taken in us in years. I felt it in the tension as Elain fingered the fabric reverently, as Nesta eyed hers with grudging approval.

So the next market day, I let him dress us as ladies. I didn’t say anything as we covered the new fine garments with our threadbare coats, paired them with our scuffed and worn shoes. He himself had brushed off one of his old suits as much as he could, shining a pair of impractical shoes from another time.

I had held out hope that things would return to normal over time, and we could slip through the market like any other unremarkable family with a few coin to spend. But no such luck.

The town square was full this morning, with more strangers in fine clothes than I had ever seen here.

All eyes looked to us as we shuffled through the stalls. Nesta kept her chin high and her jaw set, as I ducked into stores and stalls to escape.

Father was in fine form, smiling and shaking hands as we shopped. He made sure to seek out those in finer suits first.

“Feyre, come here!”

My father beckoned me with a warm, hopeful smile.

I sighed. I was negotiating hard for some dried beans, some rice. It had been a new irony to discover these market days: even with so many coins in my pocket, the merchants insisted on filling my arms with food and supplies, refusing to take even half of their worth. I had to fight: not to haggle, but to pay. I knew everyone here was as hungry as we had been, couldn’t afford such charity even as they insisted.

It was all right though, because it helped me ignore the shooting pains in my hand.

Father was entertaining in the square as we shopped: a rotund man about his age, in a fine dark wool suit and a tall hat, shining in the morning light.

“Feyre, this is Mr. Robinson, the Mayor of Innisville. You remember him?” he asked me.

I didn’t.

“His wife, Lady Sasha used to show horses with your mother. And he’s come to see you, dear daughter.” He spoke with a theatric flair, with a barely contained smile on his face. Unsettling and strange. “He has an invitation for us all.”

The man beamed at me, his chubby cheeks glowing red, looking warm and jovial even on this dour winter day.

“Just look at you. Who would have imagined you bringing down that monster!” I prickled at his tone. “I got a look at its head. You must have been very frightened, dear child.”

Something burned in my stomach. I remembered, strangely, the taunting, bored voice of the beast.

“I’ve hunted for my family for many years,” I told him. “Hunger drives us to do many things in spite of fear.”

My father made a sharp inhale. But the mayor simply smiled, moving closer at my tone, and grasped my good arm at the elbow. “Of course, dear. I just meant you must be very brave. Especially for one so young. And lovely.”

My father held me by my other arm. I had the distinct feeling of a pack gathering, penning me in.

“The Mayor came with an invitation, Feyre,” he said gently, like I was a wild animal needing coaxing. I could see the regret in his eyes, probably thinking about how he had taken so little care to teach his youngest proper manners. Or anything at all. “He’s extended an invitation to the whole family, to join them as honored guests next week for the town’s solstice celebration.”

“Everything is so bleak these days - with the wheat blight and the threat of the wall always looming over us. People need something inspiring, to show them the way. Or maybe someone.” He seemed to be a kind man, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at me.

My heart skipped a beat at that. My birthday. I suspected my father had forgotten the significance.

I knew my sisters would want to go desperately, would beg and plead. And that spark in father, even if I resented where it came from…it was like he was back again, like when I was a child in his office, his youngest girl to entertain with treasures from across the world.

Except now, I was feeling more and more like the prize on display.

My hand began to hammer in time with my thundering heart.

“I suppose I can take a one day break from hunting.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That night, the three of us lay in bed, not sleeping.

Nesta was the one who spoke first, her voice barely a whisper.

“Father means to use this to marry us all off,” she said, a simple statement of fact.

“Do you think we’ll get many more invitations, maybe to a ball?” Elain asked.

I snorted.

“This all depends on you, you know,” Nesta said, fixing her eyes on me in the dark. They glowed unnervingly in the silver moonlight. “You can’t behave like a feral beast anymore. If you can summon manners and keep your temper in check for once, you might actually be rid of us soon. Isn’t that what you want?”

I frowned. “Is that what you want, then Nesta? Who knew butchering a monster in the woods would lead to husbands all around. I didn’t think you would be so eager to partner with father in his schemes.”

“Last month I was considering marrying Tomas Mandray,” she said, almost bored, ignoring my words because she knew how much it angered me. Her eyes were locked on the ceiling as she lay next to me. “Now, if we can get a few more decent dresses and invitations to the town, we might be able to marry someone with money. An actual home to keep, with servants and filled pantries.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t hopeful. It was cold and practical, evaluating the lifeline set before us.

“I talked to the other girls at the dress shop,” Elain ventured, trying to smooth over whatever it was between us, her eyes wandering to me in the dark. “They said people think you’re…blessed, Feyre.” She sounded a bit nervous. “That you defeated a fae unscathed, and bathed in its blood to take its power.”

I laughed bitterly. “Unscathed? I can hardly move my fingers. And the cut on my cheek won’t heal at all. It still bleeds half the day.”

Indeed, the slice from the creature’s claws had remained a sharp red mark on my cheek, sometimes burning in the cold, despite the cleanings and bandages Elain had attempted on it.

I hadn’t told them yet what the healer had said to me about my hand.

He had cleaned my cuts and scrapes, clucking his tongue at the deep purple bruises that were turning a sickly green, and finally gave it a closer examination. He bent my fingers and rubbed my bones with his thumb, drawing muffled cries and fiery bolts of pain that shot all the way up my arm into my shoulder.

He had made a decisive noise and set it down again, finally. “There’s no way to set all these tiny bones without cutting into your skin. And I won’t know what I’ll find in there. It's too risky to cut through the muscle and make permanent damage. I’ll wrap it the best I can and I recommend keeping it still for a few weeks to see how it heals.”

“A few weeks?” I had asked, horrified.

“Five weeks is best. Afterwards we can see how it sets, and start practicing movement again.”

I had sat in stunned silence.

Five weeks. I had never been idle even half that long since we came here. We had money now, yes, but how long would it last if I couldn’t hunt? I knew I was the only one who could keep us afloat, and I couldn’t afford to lose that time.

Even setting the snares one-handed this morning had been a challenge. And this far into winter, the rabbits weren’t as plentiful on the forest outskirts. I had to go deeper, and I had to be prepared.

“After five weeks, I’ll be able to hunt again? To use it?”

His lips pursed. “We won’t know until then. It’s likely you’ll always miss some movement. It’s all up to your body now, and if it can put you back together. The more you move it, the more it will keep re-breaking and interrupt the healing process.”

Laying in bed, my hand wrapped tightly, it pulsed with the memory.

Maybe I would have to marry. If I could never use my hand again, never hunt, never fire a bow…snares and traps and a pocket of quickly dwindling gold could only get us so far.

My stomach turned at the thought. I had wanted marriage for my sisters, mostly to get them out of my care. Of course I always hoped they could move forward, leave this sad place, start their own lives away from our poverty and bitterness. I hoped they found someone hardworking – someone gentle for Elain, someone strong for Nesta – to eke out a life away from the sad pallor of our cabin.

I had never thought of it for myself.

All I saw in my mind was freedom. Father dozing on a warm bed, while I rested, and painted, well-fed and warm.

What man could possibly match that freedom?

Read on AO3

#acotar #feysand #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #feyre archeron #Nesta archeron #psyche and eros #my writing

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stevetonyweekly · 5 months ago

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SteveTony Weekly - June 30 - Week 26

Hello, friends! Hopefully you had an amazing week. As a quick note, tomorrow AO3 will be down for a substantial amount of time, so be sure you have your fic needs prepared for that. I’ll be sharing the monthly podfic rec list later in the day to account for that.

Now here’s this week’s recs!

I don't think there's a manual for this by itsallAvengers

So. His son can stick to things, apparently.

If only Tony had realised this before he'd caught him hanging off the 89th floor of the tower.

Well. Parenting was never going to be a smooth road, was it?

my thoughts: it’s so fluffy. Steve’s exhaustion and panic are spot on for a new parent, and Tony just needs a nap and toddler proof glass.

Found My Heart Wandering by ItsMayBiTheWay

The scenery, for lack of better words, is simply breathtaking. The colors of the sunset before him, as he crosses his legs on the wooden pier, reach inside Steve’s sternum and cradle his heart gently, the soft pinks and blues swaying in the sky to create the perfect shade of lilac.

They fill in the cracks like the ancient art of kintsugi, proudly emphasizing all the scars with gold- you are better for all the scars you take, Steven, it shows you have loved, it shows you have lost- it all shows you have lived; instead of wasting your heart away, the voice of his mother repeats.

Backpacking across Europe for inspiration for his upcoming art show after a bad breakup; the last thing Steve expects to find is love.

my thoughts: i love a good meet cute. This was adorable.

Take the Moment and Taste It by betheflame

“You cannot be serious, Tony! A friendship bracelet.”

Tony Stark grinned up at his business partner from his place bent over the lawnmower engine he was tinkering with. “Aw, Pep, come on. It worked for Travis.”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you honestly want to pattern your love life off of a fanfic come to life, to a straight man, be my guest, but have you considered that you cannot just waltz into a mall and wait in line for a hockey player’s autograph?”

Or, Steve is a closeted hockey player, Tony is a publicly gay fanboy, and the NHL has no idea what's about to hit it.

my thoughts: a Tayvis flavored sportsball AU? What’s NOT to love?? I had a lot of fun reading this one and was sad when it ended.

it might just have been you by Areiton

"You have the whole world in front of you, Tony," Steve says, slowly. "When you get off this boat, there's nothing to stop you from living the life you want. If that's as a mechanic with a nice Alpha--you can have that. Just because what you grew up with is trash, doesn't mean that all alphas are. You can still have exactly what you want."

Tony laughs, and it feels brittle, sharp, cutting at his throat as it spills between them. "There aren't nice Alphas, Captain. No one is nice enough to walk away from a billion dollar fortune for someone like me."

"I would," Steve says, and it feels like a confession, like something he doesn't mean to share, and all the more precious for it.

my thoughts: um. Well, so I wrote this one? But I haven’t read it since I wrote it a year ago and it was a lot of fun to see what happened with these two. Bearded Steve is kinda amazing.

If The Collar Doesn't Fit by askaniblue

Subs need to belong to a dom. That's the law and being Captain America doesn't place you above the law. But when Steve shows up to a fight with ugly looking injuries Tony gets worried. Tony starts digging. Of course Iron Man is a switch, everyone knows that, so what does he know about what goes on between doms and subs? And why should Steve listen when Iron Man charges in to his defense? No other dom wanted the contract of an overgrown sub like Steve. Not even Mr. Stark.

My thoughts: i really love the dynamics here and Tony taking care of Steve is everything to me.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

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middleearthpixie · 6 months ago

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Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory.

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it.

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@arrthurpendragon @lathalea @legolasbadass @exhausted-humxn-being

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

@msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98

@way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @night-ace @lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised to see how quickly Dís was able to arrange the celebration of the King Under the Mountain’s betrothal. After all, she knew dwarves loved a good party and Dís certainly struck her as a woman who, when she set her mind to a task, let nothing deter her from her goal.

But, that didn't stop Nina from being almost slack-jawed as Thorin escorted her into the Great Hall after sunset that evening, as Dís had gone far and above anything Nina could have even imagined.

The tables had been rearranged to encircle the center of the hall, and at one end, a separate table had been set up for two. Candelabras of gold and silver stood upon each table, each holding six elegant white tapers, whose dance flames bathed the room in gold and sparkled merrily off the cut crystal of the wine decanters and goblets at each place setting.

Fairy lights had been strung around the ceiling’s perimeter, matching the soft golden glow of the candles and she couldn't help but smile at the sounds of musicians warming up.

“Dís has outdone herself,” Thorin murmured as they stepped into the transformed room. “And it has been a lifetime since this hall last saw a celebration of this size.”

“I’ve never been to a celebration of this size,” she said without thinking, gazing up at the iron and glass chandeliers also ablaze with candles. “Only the Master had the funds for such things and my family was not on his guest list.”

He turned to her, catching both her hands in his. “I’ve been to one of his parties and although the drink was quite good, his taste in food left much to be desired, and he believed his company all the entertainment one needed. Which made us all thankful for the ale that flowed so freely.”

“You meant to tell me he had no music that night?”

“Not a single note.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really. If it wasn't for the ale and wine…”

“Surely he had pretty women there for you to admire. He was always fond of pretty women around him, no matter how repulsed they were by him.”

Thorin pursed his lips for a moment. “There was one pretty woman, but she was left out in the snow that night.”

A wink accompanied his words and she rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “Spare me, please.”

His laughter rang out, booming across the room with enough force that the musicians went silent and Dís emerged from a back room with a smile as well. “I wasn't expecting either of you just yet,” she said as she strode toward them. “Dwalin was supposed to stall you a bit longer.”

“Dwalin?” Thorin shook his head. “I haven’t even seen him all day.”

Dís offered up a mischievous grin. “That would be because you and Miss Carren snuck off somewhere to be alone.”

Nina’s cheeks grew warm, but Thorin only laughed again. “And how do you know this?”

“I bumped into Elisin as she was readying to leave,” Dís replied, her smile fading. “She was not at all happy.”

“She’s trouble,” Nina said without thinking, “and I cannot say I’m sorry she’s leaving soon.”

Thorin’s fingers tightened about hers. “Nor can I, which is a shame, since she wasn’t always trouble.”

“Well, in her defense,” Dís replied, “she did think she’d be queen.”

Thorin glared at his sister. “Neither here nor there and really not the time nor place, Dís.”

To her credit, Dís blushed. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Carren, that was terribly rude of me. I—I don't know why I thought I should say that at all.”

“Because ye speak without thinkin’ at times,” Dwalin growled from behind them.

Nina bit the inside of her mouth as Dís scowled at him. “No one asked you, I’ll have you know.”

“I know. I dinna care, but I know.”

He said this with a grin, then to Nina’s surprise, bent to brush Dís’ cheek with a kiss. Peering up at Thorin, Nina expected to see surprise on his face as well, but instead, he smiled. “It’s about time the two of you made up.”

“Wait…” Nina looked from him to Dwalin and Dís and back, “they are a couple?”

“When they aren’t ready to throttle one another, yes,” Thorin told her.

“But he’s so grouchy all the time.”

Now it was Dwalin’s turn to grin. “Not with everyone, lassie.”

Nina’s face grew hot once again and Thorin chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. “Worry not, mesmel. You won’t be the only one surprised. Now, why don't we go and make ourselves comfortable?”

It truly was a wonderful evening and Nina couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would have been at the Master’s house that night, had she been one of the ones to welcomed to join the celebration. Dwarves absolutely knew how to host a party and how to have a fantastic time, for the music was lively and the food delicious.

However, when Thorin came up and murmured, “Walk with me?” she was perfectly willing to step away from the party and the noise.

The buzz of conversation died away, along with the music and clatter of silver against china and crystal as she tucked her arm through Thorin’s and allowed him to guide her away from the Great Hall.

He led her along a narrow corridor that wound up and away from the festivities. She glanced over at Thorin. “Where are we going?”

He smiled. “Up to the rampart. When I was a boy, it was one of my favorite places to go, as I wasn't often allowed beyond Erebor’s gates. Up here, no one would bother me. It was me and the ravens and I was perfectly happy.”

“Ravens? As in the birds?”

“As in the birds. They understand me, you know.”

She offered him a long look. They understood him? What could he mean by that? “Of course they do.”

He chuckled. “You’ll see.”

“I suppose I will.”

It was a beautiful evening, clear and cool, stars sparkling overhead and a gentle breeze whispering through the trees. The rampart was wider than she’d imagined—wide enough for two columns of dwarves to pass one another with room to spare—and as she moved to the edge, the view stole the breath from her lungs for a moment.

The plains between Erebor and Dale were dark and quiet, but in the distance, Dale itself sparkled with light. Each day, more people and more businesses arrived in the town and so at night, more lights shone than the previous day, or so it seemed. That made her smile, for she’d seen enough desolation and destruction to last her a life time and watching Dale’s rebirth was cathartic.

Beyond that, Esgaroth remained dark. Reconstruction was coming along slowly, but that didn't trouble her. Even if she wasn't about to become the Queen of Erebor, she would not be able to live in Esgaroth again. Too many memories. Too much pain. She did not care if she ever set foot on one of Esgaroth’s docks again.

She drew away from Thorin to cross to the stone parapet, where she leaned against it to gaze over at the Long Lake, whose surface sparkled so she could almost hear the water lapping at the pilings. For a moment, she was back in the small bedroom she shared with Lenna.

“Mooning, are you?”

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see her older sister, Lenna, propping an elbow on the railing and offering up a knowing smile.

“No,” Nina shook her head as she managed to tear her eyes from the building, “I am doing no such thing.”

“He didn’t know you were alive, little sister. All he cared about was getting the Master to release him.”

“Which he did. And he smiled at me.”

“Or he was smiling at Shalia, as every red-blooded man does.”

“But he is not a Man, and you know it. He is a dwarf. And not just any dwarf, but the King Under the Mountain.”

Lenna let out a low laugh. “I am not calling you Queen.”

“You will when I win his hand.”

Lenna would have loved every moment of this, and would have ribbed her endlessly about Thorin, all the while being the happiest soul alive for her.

Nina’s eyes stung. She missed her sister so very much. Her death left a hole that would never completely heal.

“Where are you?” Thorin asked softly, leaning on his elbows against the stone alongside her.

“She teased me about you, you know.” Nina looked over at him. “My sister, Lenna. She knew I was mooning over seeing you at the Master’s house that night and teased me mercilessly about it. But, it was playful, not malicious. She would’ve loved this. And I would absolutely make her address me as Your Majesty once you and I were married.”

He smiled. “Sounds like the relationship I had with my brother.”

“You had a brother?”

“I did, indeed. Younger by five years. He died in battle at Azanulbizar when we were young.”

“Thorin, I—” she shook her head slowly—“I had no idea. Were you close?”

“We were, yes. Very much so. I like to think, that had he not died, he would be to be me what Dwalin has become. I trusted him more than anyone else in my circle and I hope he felt the same.”

Sorrow wove through his words, crept into his voice, and she covered his hand with hers. “I’m sure he did. I know Lenna loved me to the moon and back, even when she teased me until I cried. She would be so thrilled to see this unfolding as it has. I hope your brother would be for you.”

“He would, no doubt. And Frerin would be amused at the notion of how we came to be together as well.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.”

“I do.” Thorin leaned over to brush her lips with his. “And he’d never let me forget it.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Both. But, you would win him over. I’ve no doubt about that at all.”

Her cheeks grew warm as he kissed her once more, this time a bit more slowly, and a bit more deeply. She melted into him, her hands curving against his bristly cheeks. And when he drew back, he whispered, “Maralmizi, Nina.”

“Maralmizu, Thorin.”

He wrapped his arms about her, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. Nina sighed softly, resting her head against his chest, just listening to the soft thump of his heart beating. This was the most perfect moment in her life, and she let her eyes close as she savored it, savored him holding her as if to protect her from anything and everything around them. A lifetime had passed since that night in the snow, when she and Lenna stood in the crowd, watching the Master welcome Thorin and his company to Esgaroth, inviting them to celebrate in his house,

“The morning after Smaug attacked,” she murmured, lifting her head to gaze up at him, “when I washed up on the shore on this side of the lake, I thought I’d lost everything that could ever make me smile again. I was convinced I’d never be happy again. And I knew—I just knew—I wouldn’t sleep peacefully until you’d paid for what that fool dragon did to us.”

A hint of pain flashed through his eyes. “If I could, I would take—”

She shook her head. “Let me finish,” she admonished gently.

He pressed his lips together, which made her smile as she went on, “but… the more I came to know you, the more I saw that you were not responsible for what that beast did. You wanted to reclaim your home and defeat him. It was never your intention to set him upon us. That was entirely on Smaug. I blamed you because I could get to you. He was dead. I could get no satisfaction from his death, as I was not the one to end him. But I could end you. At least, I could until I met you.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m rather glad you changed your mind, Nina.”

“As am I, Thorin.”

“I have but one question.”

“And that is?”

“When did you decide you preferred me alive?”

She smiled up at him. “Our first night in Mirkwood. When you asked me why I hadn’t told you I was from Esgaroth and what ever became of Lenna. You were just… you listened and when you apologized, I knew it was sincere. And for a moment, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I was. And I would have, had Dwalin not interrupted.” A hint of mischief crept into his eyes, into his grin. “And who knows what might have happened if I had?”

“Who knows, indeed.” She gave him a gentle squeeze. “We should probably get back to the party. Someone is bound to notice that we’ve gone missing.”

“Yes, you probably should head back down. People definitely noticed you two had snuck off.”

Nina rolled her eyes as she peered over her shoulder at Elisin, who stood at the far end of the parapet, arms folded, a look of smug satisfaction on her face. She knew without having to ask that Elisin had overheard them. The question was, how much had she overheard?

Thorin sighed. “Why are you up here?”

“I told you, people were wondering what happened to you. They’ll be very relieved to know she hasn’t harmed you, Your Majesty.” Elisin’s eyes narrowed as her gaze slid from Thorin to Nina, and Nina swallowed hard, her belly churning as Elisin added, “Although, why do I think they don't know she thought about harming you to begin with?”

“Elisin, you know nothing of it,” Thorin growled, taking a step toward her.

“I know this… this ragamuffin… had thought—and thought seriously from the sounds of it—to bring harm to the King Under the Mountain. I wonder, Nina, how receptive they would all be to having you as their queen should they learn of that little tidbit?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Thorin growled.

Elisin turned her wide-eyed stare to him. “Wouldn’t dare? Thorin, I think you owe it to your people to tell them truth, don’t you? I mean, this is something very serious and they should know. Your life could be in imminent danger, after all.”

“If you do, you will be sorry,” Nina gritted.

“Is that so? Well, I think I’ll take my chances.” Elisin spun on her heel and strode back toward the stone steps.

Nina started after her. “Now, you wait just one minute!”

“Nina!” Thorin lunged to try and grab her arm, but missed as she veered to the side and out of his reach.

She moved faster as Elisin practically ran the rest of the way down the staircase. She didn't look over her shoulder, didn't seem at all concerned with Nina catching her, and no matter how fast she tried to push herself, Nina couldn't seem to catch her. Her belly churned like mad as she realized Elisin was absolutely going to announce to the hall full of people that Thorin was planning to marry the woman who’d thought to assassinate him.

“Stop!” Nina flung herself at Elisin, wrapping her arms about the dwarrowdam’s thick waist. However, instead of halting her, Nina instead pushed her forward and into the Great Hall, where everyone seemed to fall silent at once and Nina almost heard the whoosh of heads swiveling in their direction.

“What goes on here?” Dís demanded as the musicians went quiet and she hurried toward them.

“It is very fitting you should ask me that,” Elisin replied with a sweet smile that made Nina’s stomach hurt even more as she reluctantly eased her hold on Elision’s waist.

“Elisin,” Thorin came into the Great Hall, his voice reverberating all around them, “do not dare.”

“Dare what?” Dís looked from Elisin to Nina to Thorin, her eyes narrowed. “What is going on here?”

“What is going on here is simple, really. Your future queen is a would-be assassin,” Elisin announced, her smile growing more smug with each word. She nodded, looking about the room as she added, “Yes, you heard me. She is here because her plan was to kill your king.”

#Richard Armitage #AU #The Hobbit #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield #Is it hot in here?#Hobbit Fic #Romance #Hobbit Fanfic #Thorin x OC #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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hiiiiii @nightgoodomens i read this post and then immediately started typing and this is the result. either sorry or you're welcome. or both. :)

Crowley's first instinct is to wrench his arm from Aziraphale's grasp, but his hold on him tightens ever so slightly as if sensing his intentions, so he stays put—for now.

Still, anger rises in his chest like a tidal wave, hot and desperate and tainted by nothing lasts forever and i forgive you. They haven't talked about it yet, and he refuses to when the outcome of that argument could very well mean extinction, not just for the two of them but for the world. He built walls in his mind, keeping out shimmering purple eyes and familiar lips, and stopped breathing so he could pretend Aziraphale didn't smell all wrong.

The reason stretching throughout their foundations turns into vines, forcing them apart stone by stone when he meets his gaze.

"How about we come up with a plan where you don't risk destruction, please?"

Crowley's smile is a mask of bitter disappointment; the slant of his mouth is sharp, almost cruel.

"What do you care?"

"Of course I care," Aziraphale shoots back immediately, his fingers digging into his arm forcefully enough that he can practically taste the bruises forming beneath them.

"You were more than happy to deliver me to heaven all tied up and with a bow on my head, Arseangel Aziraphale. You would have had to find someone to scrape my sorry fucking remains off their pristine floors five minutes later."

A tingling numbness spreads up to his shoulder, pins and needles reminding him that this corporation is starting to get tired of being restrained, but Crowley is too focused on the insulted rage distorting the angel's face. He steps closer, forcing him to look up at him, and he takes minute satisfaction in the heavy swallow running down his throat.

"They wouldn't-"

"Oh, they wouldn't, really? They have already done it once, and now they're planning on ending us all. None of them would know mercy if it hit them in their perfect bloody faces."

Uncaring for the increase in his volume, Crowley mockingly raises an eyebrow, challenging him to disagree, to defend heaven like he has done time and time again, to finally let go of him and let him stomp off to his destruction; this time, he is either going to win or go out on his own terms.

When Aziraphale doesn't respond, his lashes fluttering and his mouth opening and closing several times without expelling a single sound or breath, he channels six thousand years of suppressed frustration and angry humiliation and rips his arm out of his grasp.

"There is no 'we', Aziraphale. There is your side, there is earth, and then there's me."

He remembers the hundred times Aziraphale denied knowing him, called him a demon, his adversary, denounced their friendship and arrangement, and ground their partnership to dust under his heels like a dried-out bug on the verge of death.

Friends, we're not friends.

For a moment, Crowley wants to ask if any of it had been real, but he knows it was—that's why it hurts.

That's why he can't let it go.

The pain as the blood in his arm begins to flow unhindered again is nothing compared to the gaping wound scratching itself open in his chest, forcing him to swallow salted iron and sickly sweet love. He has been wearing his shades every single second they spent together after his return, but he takes them off now, biting back a taunting sneer, biting back tears.

Purple meets gold, the summer-sky blue is long gone, and it helps him deliver the last blow without flinching.

"Nothing lasts forever, right? Good luck with your armageddon."

Crowley does not wait to see the hurt spreading across his face and pretends he doesn't hear the punched-out gasp or the beginnings of a sob.

Instead, he slides his glasses back into place and walks away; the universe will finally grant him rest one way or another.

tag list under the cut (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

@ineffabledeathtoallmetatrons @ineffablymanic @violet-prism-creativelycreatively @wraithee @underlined-in-spirit @acheemient @queer4cryptids @aroaceblackhole @six-of-snakes @im-the-son-of-rage-and-lov3 @adverbian @oboextra @demonic-mnemonic @eybefioro

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #good omens ficlet #also hi fells if you uh happen to see this the arseangel is for you

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dandelion-blues · 2 months ago

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#10 What if...

Percy Jackson's first life was as the stillborn son of Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon

PJO x A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) crossover

The Fates’ Gambit

Percy's luck finally ran out. Here, he was dying in a pool of his own blood. Crimson and gold blood soaked into the ground. He just wishes he got to see his family one last time. For his mom to hold his hand, while Paul rambled about his newest book fascination, trying to be calm for Percy and for his little sister Estelle to smile and babble at him.

Hades, he even wanted to see his distant father, Poseidon, and his step-mother Amphitrite, and brothers Triton and, of course, Tyson. After all, he got closer to his godly side of the family when he was allowed to visit their palace after the Giant War, and he found himself missing their presence as well. He also really wanted his boyfriend. He wanted Jason to make the gray skies and rain go away so he could see the sun one last time. To see his beautiful golden hair and tanned skin, and blinding smile, staple scar and all, even if he was holding back tears.

None of this happened though, Percy was dying alone, in a dark alley all because he had grown complacent, weak in thinking everything was finally over and he could finally be happy, have a happily ever after. How stupid?! Percy should have known that was impossible for him.

When he felt blood marking his body, gaping wound in his abdomen, broken and twisted bones, he knew he only had mere minutes, seconds to live, and even when his thoughts grew sluggish he prayed to Poseidon, Triton, Amphitrite, and told them he loved them and to tell his mother, step-dad, and little siblings Estelle and Tyson that he loved them too, and wished he would get to stay with them. Alas, the fates never seemed to like him, and they should continue to live and be happy without him.

He coughed up blood, struggling to breathe as blood filled his lungs and throat. It tasted of iron and sweetness — the taste of his divinity that only grew stronger as he aged. It was a bittersweet taste, even as he was finally coming to terms with his ascendance and future immortality, over living to a hopefully old age — he now gets neither. He was dying, and there was no blessing that could save him, but Percy hoped that his family would forgive him and live on, that they heard his final prayer.

Percy smiled glad he got to say some form of good bye, and took one last wheezing breath, the light fading out of the seventeen year old's eyes just as a burst of blinding light could be seen in his last moments, and he embraced the darkness…

A beautiful light so bright, like stars coalsensing in the dark depths of the sea. It didn’t burn like Percy thought seeing the true forms of the gods would. No, it just felt safe. It’s too bad that it’s too late for him…

Notes:

Percy's first life never began.

He was born the unnamed first born of Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon, who died shortly after birth. However, upon his death, his body was taken away in a flash of light. This light was shown throughout the whole kingdom, and whispers in an ancient language were heard (which would be triggered for them to remember Percy upon his return. That he is the rightful king.)

Then, he had his second life as Perseus 'Percy' Jackson, and the fates had it out for him. He almost made it to eighteen, and he thought he finally could rest, but no, he died. The fates weren't done with him, for it was time for him to go back to his first life and take his rightful place on the throne and fight the Night King and enemies of the throne where he came back in a burst of light and ancient words were once again spoken triggering the people's memories and the words were translated to "The King has been reborn and returned." Before the words said, "the prince has died and left."

Maybe have Percy come back in a burst of blinding light with a lot of witnesses, and they believe these 'gods' words and as Percy passes out upon merging with his first life's body and his old one (the old one was an empty shell waiting to be used), the people immediately go to treat him and Cersei is overjoyed about having her son back.

The light shows throughout the kingdom just as he did when he died. Maybe have Percy show up before Tommon's reign as a gift from the gods and take his place on the throne. He's not prepared and yes he has a darker morality, but he will still be Percy (like Jason Todd level), and since he wasn't reborn through the Lethe he has his memories and powers.

Also, Percy has been growing closer to the sea fam after the war with Gaia and receiving royal lessons, so he isn't completely left hanging when it comes to being royalty and dealing with the court and nobles.

Percy will only marry for love and will tell his suitors as such. Also, he’s hoping to be reunited with Jason, even if that’s a far-off possibility.

People hear Percy saying things in ancient Greek, which people think is the language of their gods along with his powers and resurrection believe he has been blessed by the gods, which he is, just not their gods.

First - Previous - Next "What if...?"

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jadejedi · 1 year ago

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Fantasy Book Review: A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland

JJ's rating: 5/5

How feral did it make me: 5/5

My book reviews

I’ve been reading (or listening) to a lot more books this year than normal, and I have realized that I need an outlet to talk about them. I considered making a goodreads account, but hey I already have this! So I will be reviewing the books I’ve read this year, and depending on how long it takes me, I might just start reviewing all my favorite reads. I'm probably going to add links to my blog to make them easier to find.

Let’s get into it. This book is so good. SO GOOD. I listened to it on audiobook, which normally means while I’m at work, driving, or at home doing chores, but I literally listened to the last 2 hours of this book at home doing absolutely nothing, just on the edge of my damn seat!

Here’s a quick summary: the very anxious Prince Kadou accidentally causes a serious incident that leaves multiple of his personal guards dead or injured. In the aftermath, he is assigned a new guard by the sultan who is known for being an uptight rule follower. As their personalities clash, they have to solve a mystery and learn to work together…

I want to preface this review by saying that this is definitely a romance novel with a fantasy setting. The world building, especially for the main country this novel takes place in, is great and extremely vivid without unnecessary info dumps. The main plot of the story is perfectly serviceable, if a tad predictable, but it 1000% does what it needs to do for the romance.

But, the romance. THE ROMANCE. This book was advertised as an “enemies to lovers slow burn romance” and it 100% delivers on both. Now, when some people think “enemies to lovers” or (even better imo) “enemies to friends to lovers”, they imagine that at least one of the parties involved is a horrible villain and the relationship is probably abusive in some way. I’m sure there are plenty of books out there where that is absolutely the case, but Rowland gets what makes that trope so good. It’s about two characters who are both good people, but initially clash. It’s the mutual hatred born out of a fundamental misunderstanding of the other’s character, it’s the eventual begrudging respect, it’s THE YEARNING. THE PINING.

Both of these characters are so wonderful. We get both POV’s throughout: Kadou’s anxious desire to do what’s best for his country and not fuck anything up, and Evemere’s steadfast, noble determination to understand what makes the prince the way he is.

I don’t want to give too much more away, but this book is filled with ALL the delightful romance tropes you could ever desire.

Can we talk about pacing?? Pacing is so, so important, especially when writing a slow burn romance, and this author GETS. IT. Sometimes if the romance is resolved too early, all the tension goes out of the story, because if it’s a romance novel, we’re here for the romance, not the plot. But in this story the whole novel is centered around the romance, and the pacing just works so, so well.

Also, the way that queerness is written into this story is wonderful. Third gender pronouns abound and same sex attraction is fully accepted, and it’s really refreshing. Also, there are multiple female characters who play significant roles in the story who are fleshed out characters, which I feel is sometimes lacking in M/M romances.

I have not been able to stop thinking about this book since I finished it like four days ago. I listened to the audio book, which had an excellent narrator, but have also ordered the paperback with my favorite version of the cover. Please, do yourself the favor and read this one. Also, if you do read it, the author published a 10,000 word fanfic epilogue on AO3. It’s called What spring does with the cherry trees, and it’s a goddamn delight.

#a taste of gold and iron #book review #fantasy book review #mlm #slowww burn #meet ugly #romantasy

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mediawhorefics · 8 months ago

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hi, i saw you recommended some lgbtq books a while ago but it's impossible to find anything from tumblr later on, so do you know any good fantasy/sci-fi/action/contemporary m/m books? like with actual plot instead of just romance and also with characters and (platonic) relationships other than the main couple. thanks!

hiiiii, sorry this is super late, but of course i can!

(apologies in advance cos some of these are prob books i’ve recced before 🤪✌🏻)

-> captive prince trilogy (cs pacat) | if you’re looking for something with actual plot, cp has a big political overarching plot that’s super compelling about the two princes of neighbouring enemy kingdoms trying to reclaim their respective thrones. there’s lots of triggering content so do look it up before… but while the romance is the main event, the political aspect of the book is really detailed and engaging.

-> dark rise trilogy (cs pacat) | 2 out of 3 books are out currently and the m/m romance is not the focus so far though it’s been well teased/a good slow start. the whole trilogy is a subversion of the classic medieval chosen one trope ft. an old world of magic being reawakened, a dark king’s return and an order of knights trying to prevent it. great found family vibes. ya historical fantasy.

-> hither page (cat sebastian) | a jaded spy and a shell-shocked country doctor team up to solve a murder in postwar england. historical murder mystery!

-> big bad wolf series (charlie adhara) | an ex fbi agent gets transferred to a secret agency dealing with werewolf crimes after being attacked by one of them. human and werewolf relations are tense and he ends up paired with a wolf agent from the wolf agency that echoes his to solve a series of brutal crimes. ok, i know this sounds like straight up werewolf porn, but i was really surprised by how engaging and well written the mysteries were in this series. i’m talking twists and shit, compelling/complex side characters…. this series completely took me by surprise.

-> seven summer nights (harper fox) | post war england, a shell-shocked archaeologist and a vicar fall in love while trying to uncover a small town’s archaeological mystery in the south downs.

-> the last binding series (freya markse) | edwardian magical mystery series, each book focuses on a different queer couple while following an overarching mystery/plot that threatens the welfare of magical britain. big found family vibes, lots of great side characters introduced in each book that then become leads in later books, beautiful writing.

-> a taste of gold and iron (alexandra rowland) | ottoman empire inspired fantasy world, a prince and his bodyguard must investigate a break in at one of their guilds, the results of which could save their queen’s reign.

-> the will darling adventures (kj charles) | 1920s mystery adventure series. great side characters, insp by 20s pulp novels. a wwi vet turned bookseller get swiped up in mystery and a spy he’s not sure he can trust. first one is a bit slower, but it picks up in book 2 & 3.

-> the kingdoms (natasha pulley) | 19th century alternate history mystery. an amnesiac journeys from london to a scottish lighthouse to try and unlock the mystery of his forgotten past. complex narrative and extremely immersive storytelling. the romance is central but subtle.

-> the binding (bridget collins) | 19th century historical fantasy. emmet is training to be a bookbinder in a world where books contain people’s memories and are highly controversial… eternal sunshine of the spotless mind vibes.

-> less (andrew sean greer) | arthur less is going on a worldwide literary tour to avoid going to his ex’s wedding. this book really took me by surprise, it was so delightful.

-> the house in the cerulean sea (tj klune) | linus baker, a case worker for the department in charge of magical youth, gets sent to an orphanage for so labelled 'dangerous' children in order to evaluate whether they're about/able to end the world and if the orphanage/the man in charge of it is best for them. big feel good book, really funny, great found family vibes, subtle love story, wonderful side characters.

-> the bedlam stacks (natasha pulley) | merrick tremayne is called upon by the india office to go on a dangerous expedition deep in peru to fetch quinine (essential for the treatment of malaria) despite the debilitating injury that almost cost him a leg. every expedition before his has yielded no results apart from dead bodies, but merrick has family history deep in the country so he goes against his better judgement. there, he meets raphael, a priest surrounded by strange stories of disappearances, cursed woods and living stones, and who might hold the key to his family’s past. really cool world building, really immersive writing, very subtle romance. more plot heavy than romance heavy, but it's still !!!!

-> salt magic, skin magic (lee welch) | lord thorny is cursed and can't leave his father's estate. trapped there for over a year now, he is slowly losing his mind. until industrial magical john blake arrives on the land to investigate an unrelated case involving witchcraft. soon enough the men get closer and must work together to figure out a way to break thorny's curse. historical fantasy, good mystery, fun twists. i haven't read this one in a while, but i remember really enjoying the mythology.

-> the watchmaker of filiigree street & sequel (natasha pulley) | telegraphist thaniel receives a mysterious watch on his birthday whose pre-set alarm saves him from a terrorist bombing on scotland yard. since the bomb was made with clockwork parts and only the bomber could have known when to set the alarm, thaniel is sent by a detective investigating the bombing to live with the suspected watchmaker to figure out what’s going on. sherlock holmes vibes. slow burn/subtle romance. delightful writing.

-> under the whispering door (tj klune) | an unpleasant and selfish man in life, wallace price meets his reaper at his near-empty funeral and gets taken to a whimsical tea shop where he meets hugo, the ferryman whose job it is to help him move on and crossover into the afterlife. a task that becomes complicated as wallace starts developing feelings for hugo. found family vibes.

#about me #books #book rec

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literallyjustanerd · 2 years ago

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Scenes From The Caf Hall

So I had a lot of ideas for fun clone shenanigans but none substantial enough for full fics, so I put them into a sort of montage of moments I like to believe have gone down in the GAR caf at mealtimes. No consistency in timeline, just some harmless clone fun. Enjoy!

Note: one of these scenes references there being an abundance of Chancellor Palpatine biopics in the Star Wars universe. I saw someone mention that that would be funny in a text post once but try as I might I cannot find who that was. If you know what I'm talking about please let met know so I can credit them for the inspiration!

“I’m not kriffing drinking it, Fives. I won’t do it.” Fives lets out a low, pained groan as he drops his tray on one of the benches, head lolling back in a heavy circle over his shoulders. “Then don’t,” he says, for at least the third time. Echo pays him no mind. He may as well be speaking to himself. “Why would they change it? The one good thing I could count on every day, but no, let’s take that away, too. Kriffing Republic budget cuts. Kriffing quartermasters…” Hardcase is already grinning when he joins the two, watching in amusement as Echo’s rant fades to a low, sharp muttering. “What is it this time?” he asks, sounding almost excited. Echo is too busy stabbing at his salad like he wants to draw blood to answer.

“They changed out the brand of tea in the stores,” Fives says, head propped up on his fist. A hand slapped across Hardcase’s chestplate accentuates his feigned shock. “Not your precious Tarine!” he gasps. “What would they ever replace that with?” Oblivious or uncaring of Hardcase’s mocking tone, Echo’s fury is reignited. “Generic brand.” He spits the words like poison and scowls at the taste they leave in his mouth. Like they’re profanity. Which is ironic given how he continues; “I’ll be karked nine ways into the void before those shabuire make me drink the osik’la generic brand.” “Nobody’s making you drink it, Echo,” Fives reminds him, though by now he’s resigned, fully aware that he is little more than background noise. Echo growls at his tray. A couple of nearby shinies speed their steps to hustle past their table.

“Personally, I could never taste the difference,” Jesse pipes up. He’s so unfazed by the scene that nobody had even noticed him sit down. Fives sighs. That was not the right response. “The difference is night and day!” Echo blurts, voice surely close to reaching the upper limits of pitch. “They’re making us drink dirt water!” “Not making you,” Fives mumbles. “We lay down our lives for their war every day and this is how they repay us?” “Bit dramatic.” “We work our shebse off and you’re telling me I can’t even get a decent brew after an eighteen hour shift?” Fives pauses, tilts his head. “Yeah, no, okay. That’s fair.” At last, Echo acknowledges his presence in the form of a single, righteous nod.

Across the table, Hardcase flashes that look like a child about to poke a sleeping loth cat. “Why not just drink caf instead?” Echo falls deadly silent, eyes narrowed to a slit. His response is whip-fast. “Why don’t I just shoot you right here?”

***

“Telling you, things got wild that night. Don’t remember most of it, of course, but man, it was fun.” Waxer’s pride swells at the awed gazes across the table. His new 212th vod’ike, the gold on their armour barely dry, eyes wide with awe and demanding to know more of their superiors’ exploits. It’s like a drug, the wonder and admiration, and by now the 212th veterans know the best way to get it. Battle stories were great for gaining respect, sure, but if you wanted to really wow your rookies, stories of shore leave misadventures were far more effective.

“We woke up the next morning in a motel room on the lower levels,” Boil recounts with a grin. “No clue how we got there.” “What about the twi’leks?” one shiny demands, on the edge of his seat. “The ones from 79’s, what happened to them?” Waxer and Boil share a smirk, and Waxer delivers the kicker. “No idea,” he chuckles. “But they each left one of their numbers written on our vambraces.” “I really oughta call him sometime,” Boil muses. “See if they’re free again for this New Years’.” “She really was something else,” Waxer affirms. The shinies have gone silent before them, smiles wiped clean and suddenly sitting bolt upright. It takes the lieutenants a painfully long moment to realise why.

“Sorry to interrupt, troopers,” Cody says from behind the pair, sending bolts of ice through their veins, “but this wouldn’t happen to be last New Year’s you were talking about, would it?” Waxer and Boil both fall over themselves, mumbling sheepishly in the affirmative. “Interesting…” Cody hums. “Because I seem to remember things taking place differently.” “O-oh, is that… Is that right, Commander?” Waxer sputters, and tries immediately to move the conversation on. Cody doesn’t let it. “That’s right. As I recall, the two of you had to be carried out of 79’s well before New Year struck, and sent back to the barracks in a cab, drunk off your sorry faces.” Boil swallows audibly. He too is cut off when he tries to speak. “Can’t remember which one of you it was who was crying at the time, though.” His face is trained, his smile thoroughly measured, though his amusement is still glaringly clear. “Strange how our memories play up, isn’t it?”

He leaves it at that, and turns to walk away. One of the shinies, evidently a bold one, pipes up from the table, much to the horror of his batchmates. “Commander,” he calls, and Cody pauses in his step, turns back to face them. “How would you know what happened that night, unless… unless you were at 79’s, too?” After a moment’s pause, Cody merely flashes a grin. He turns to walk away, throwing one last comment over his shoulder: “Welcome to the 212th, boys.”

***

It’s been on Jesse’s mind for a while, but only now does he get the chance to bring it up. “There are three pieces of cake on your tray,” he says. Kix doesn’t look up from his work, datapad in one hand and sandwich in the other. He looks tired, but then, Kix always looks tired. “Very observant, vod. Good job.” “You got out of night shift last week.” “Mhmm.” “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on fresher duty.” “Okay?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, peeling the lid off his preserved jogan fruit. As if to illustrate his intended point, another trooper passes by their table and surreptitiously slides a pack of biscuits across to Kix like it’s a drug deal. When Jesse’s raised eyebrow gets no response, he clears his throat pointedly. Kix finally stops tapping away at his pad. “Why does everyone keep giving you their stuff?” Jesse demands. He doesn’t like the responding smirk that passes across Kix’s face. “Why do you think?” he asks, amusement tinging the edges of his words. Jesse sighs, lacking the energy to play this game. “Would I be asking if I knew?”

The look Kix gives is weary, bemused. He drags a hand over his eyes and takes a short, sharp breath, then begins. “Being a medic sucks.” “…Uh-huh?” “Long hours, always on call, the datawork never ends. People expect me to heal three-inch stab wounds in three minutes.” Jesse’s brow furrows, hoping there’s a point to this beyond his brother’s bitching “I’m… sorry?” “But as much of a pain in the gett’se as it is,” he says, finishing the sentence around a mouthful of cake, “being in charge of keeping all you di’kute alive it has its upsides.” Jesse can only roll his eyes. “Quit being so mysterious and get to the point.” Kix sighs sharply. “Jesse, I haven’t paid for a drink in over two years.” But the dots remain unconnected, Jesse’s expression still perplexed.

Begrudgingly, Kix sets the datapad down on the table and adjusts so he’s fully facing Jesse. He scrolls back on the pad through a plethora of files until he finds one. Jesse suddenly feels like a cadet again, called into his sergeant’s office. “0742 hours. Morning after last year’s Festival of Stars. You presented to medbay. Do you remember what for?” Kix needn’t have asked the question: a searing flush has already flooded Jesse’s skin, one that draws a sadistic grin from his vod. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it a hundred times before and since. Never in that place, though...” Jesse’s head is in his hands as Kix continues. “Didn’t know how you’d managed it at first. Course, you told me the whole story. Spotchka and pain meds are great at loosening tight lips.”

“You kept that on file?” Jesse says in a strangled whisper. Kix shrugs, unfazed. “I’m required by Republic protocol to keep a record of all assessments and procedures carried out.” Jesse’s eyes fall to the extra cakes on Kix’s tray. Kix’s smile grows, tapping his datapad proudly. “And I carry out a lot of procedures.” Jesse curses under his breath, eyes wide in the dawning realisation. “How much dirt do you have on us?” he breathes, caught somewhere between awe and abject horror. Leaning his elbows on the table, Kix raises an eyebrow and grins.

“All of it, vod. You boys are animals,” he chuckles. “The things I’ve seen…” “You mean like—” “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse.” “What about—” “Worse.” “You don’t mean—” Kix leans further forward over the table, tilting his head down at Jesse. “Worse.”

Jesse swallows, leans back in his seat and acquiesces to Kix’s warning look. As much he itches to dig further, he knows Kix is probably doing him a favour by keeping the details obscured. “So. There you go. Maybe I get out of fresher duty. But with what I see on a daily basis, I think I’m within my rights to a few gratuities in exchange for my discretion about certain topics,” he says. “Like someone’s very inventive use of contraband fireworks…?” An uncomfortable silence falls between them, dragging on until Kix finally breaks it, eyeing Jesse’s tray. “Say, that jogan fruit looks—” Jesse’s handing it over before Kix has finished the sentence.

***

“Eight times in the last week he’s lost it. Three in one day, once. One of these days I’m going to weld that blasted saber to his hand.” Rex is slumped in his seat, shaking his head at the table. His brothers all murmur their commiserations around him, in various states of consciousness. Beside him, Cody jolts upright after almost falling face-first into his mug of caf for the fourth time. Ponds puts down the spoon he’s been using to mindlessly stir his porridge for the last ten minutes straight. “Least your general lets you have fun. General Windu makes us do weapons inventory and maintenance in every single minute of free time,” he grouses. Rex huffs. “I wish General Skywalker would order us to do weapons maintenance. I’m the only reason anything gets done in the 501st.” He gets a few affirming moans, half-hearted complaints about their own generals neglecting the more unglamorous responsibilities of commanding a battalion.

“You all have it easy.” It’s Fox who throws in next, hauling himself up from where he had been splayed across Wolffe’s back. He waves away the answering protests with a lazy hand. “Didn’t you go to the theatre last night?” Bly retorts. The disdain in his voice gives away his expression, which remains unseen; he’s on his back on the floor beside the table. The jab gives Fox a sudden burst of vindictive energy. “I did, Bly. I did go to the theatre last night. And do you know what I saw?” he says. “I saw another kriffing biopic on Chancellor kriffing Palpatine’s noble and heroic rise to power.” He spears a fillet of grey meat on his tray. “If I have to sit through another minute of some actor the Chancellor wishes he looked like making an empowered speech about the sacrifices he’s made for his people, you’ll all see me at the tribunal when I’m court marshalled and decommissioned.” The others say nothing, dredging up little more than sympathetic winces or groans. A few note that Fox’s hair seems just a little greyer than it did the last time they met up.

“General Kenobi jumped off a cliff on our last assignment on Onderon,” Cody offers a short time later to break the silence. He’s barely lucid enough to mumble the words. Nobody is at all surprised by the report. After a long draw from his caf, Cody continues, seeming bored by his own words. “Found him at the bottom totally unharmed and petting a bogwing. Asked him how he knew it would be there and let him ride it down, and do you know what he said?” The vode raise their weary voices to join him in chorus for the answer: “He didn’t know it would be there.”

Silence again. Someone snores, though it’s impossible to tell who and nobody can be bothered to try. Those awake enough to think straight mourn the state of the evening so far. It was a small miracle that this many of them were all in the one place to begin with. They’d planned for drinks at 79’s after dinner. And maybe they’d still rally and somehow make it out there. Maybe, with enough caf and the GAR’s famous resolve. But for now, they’re a sorry sight to behold. Soundly and thoroughly defeated. “Why does General Yoda talk like that...?” It’s Gree, his voice a pained whimper, muffled against the table. The question is directed at nobody. “Nothing he says makes any sense. He doesn’t need to talk like that.” Bly’s hand appears from below to pat his vod’s shoulder. With a shaking breath, Gree asks it again, barely a child’s pitiful sob: “Why does he talk like that?”

A little more moaning later, they seem to come to the consensus that their Jetiise (and Chancellor) were just confounding and infuriating by nature, and that they were tragically and inescapably doomed to a life dealing with their bantha shit. “They’re hopeless,” Ponds sighs. “Ridiculous,” Bly agrees. “Children,” Rex laments. “Maniacs,” Cody says, with finality in his tone. A voice rumbles from across the table – the first time that night Wolffe had made it known that he was awake at all. “What did you say?” Rex yawns. Wolffe raises his head. “I said, speak for your kriffing selves.”

***

The table in the corner of the caf hall may as well have a reserved sign on it. It does, in a way: Wrecker carved a crude ‘99’ into one of the benches months ago. The regs tend to steer clear, although on days like these, Echo can’t really blame them. He hears it before he sees it, the first signs of an argument beginning to escalate. “Get out of my face before I blast yours off,” Crosshair snarls. Echo almost turns and walks away. But someone will need to be around to pick up the pieces if this all goes sideways. He steps through the remaining crowd to find his place at the end of the table. Opposite him, Crosshair is hunched over like a wolf with its hackles up. Tech is beside him, one finger poised delicately approximately an eighth of a centimeter from Crosshair’s shoulder.

“I will,” he says, “the moment you explain why you are so put out when I, clearly, am not actually touching you.” The plastic fork in Crosshair’s hand snaps. “How long?” Echo asks with a heavy sigh. Hunter, eyes occupied sharpening his knife, replies, “Going on fifteen minutes.” “Think there’s a point?” Hunter shrugs, slots his knife back into its sheath. His eyes flick from Tech to Crosshair, to Wrecker, who is watching the stalemate with rapt attention like it’s a nail-biting bolo-ball match. “Supposedly it’s a study on patience and stress levels,” he says. “But he hasn’t done it with anyone else. You know, Cross did trash his goggles last week.” Echo nods vaguely, sipping his tea and watching the rest of the exchange play out with distant disinterest. It would be imperceptible to the regs passing by, but Echo catches the slant in Tech’s tone, the tiny quirk in his eye. He’s enjoying this.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “I don’t know what you mean. I’m still not touching you.” “Knock it the hell off, or you’ll wake up tomorrow to all your datapads melting in the kriffing furnace.” “I'm not touching you, though.” “This isn’t a joke. I—” “Not touching you.” “Hunter!” Crosshair hisses, shifting away yet again. He’s crammed onto the last three inches of the bench now, but Tech advances quickly to narrow the gap. Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, no. I’m not getting anywhere near this one.” “Some Sergeant you are.”

Echo tries to tune it out and enjoy his stew, as the threats grow increasingly crass and Wrecker eagerly demands the two get on with it and fight already. How they could lose themselves so shamelessly in such childish antics he does not know. He turns his gaze to the rest of the caf, the grid of tables packed with troopers he’d rather be sitting at. Though as he watches, he soon spots a table in the opposite corner of the hall; two shinies are locked in a fierce arm wrestling match, vode around them whooping and jeering. A few troopers at another table take turns lobbing berries in the air and trying to catch them in their mouths. More than one table has a perilous game of five finger fillet going. He looks back to Tech and Crosshair, inching towards all-out war, and lets his thoughts wander back to his old squad. Nights spent in this very same caf, breathless with laughter as Domino squad tried to one-up each other with outlandish dares. Lobbing wadded-up napkins into their commanders’ drinks. Sneaking behind the serving counters to steal extra desserts. Echo himself had definitely had his moments, dropping ice cubes down the back of Fives’ blacks when he wasn’t looking.

Across the table, Crosshair is reaching the end of his rope. “Are you all just going to sit there and watch?” he seethes. Echo feels a wry grin pulling at his lip. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says glibly. “He’s not even touching you.”

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dvar-trek · 11 months ago

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Romance Roundup: Part 2

the full list:

loved | liked | okay | didn't like

●Captive Prince Trilogy by C.S. Pacat ○Captive Prince ○Prince's Gambit ○Kings Rising ○The Summer Palace ●Whyborne and Griffin Series by Jordan L. Hawk (there are like 11 of these in total, but this is as far as i got. this is not the only reason i stopped, but this series does contain a sex scene wherein sliding back the foreskin is described as "peeling". and i just. i simply don't think you should peel a dick. i don't think it's good for them.) ○Widdershins ○Eidolon ○Threshold ●Sweet Disorder by Rose Lerner ●Sailor's Delight by Rose Lerner ●Something Human by A.J. Demas ●Doomsday Books by KJ Charles ○The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen ○A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel

●Old Bridge Inn Series by Annick Trent ○Beck and Call ○The Oak and the Ash ●10 Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall ●Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall (okay, listen, the first chapter hits you with a high concentration of cringe, and is therefore difficult to read. but the cringe concentration lessens considerably as you go along, and this ended up being one of my faves.) ●Husband Material by Alexis Hall (again with the cringe, but it's not a strong enough book otherwise to make up for it, imo. the first book stands up great without having to bother with the sequel) ●The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever by Julia Quinn ●Bridgerton Series by Julia Quinn ○The Duke and I ○The Viscount Who Loved Me (there are six more of these, but i simply couldn't go on)

●The Mystery of Nevermore by C.S. Poe ●Turner Series by Cat Sebastian ○The Soldier's Scoundrel ○The Lawrence Browne Affair ○The Ruin of a Rake ○A Little Light Mischief ●The Last Binding by Freya Marske (these are kissing books, but i didn't like the actual romances so much as the. like. plot.) ○A Marvellous Light ○A Restless Truth ○A Power Unbound ●Lucky Lovers of London by Jess Everlee ○The Gentleman's Book of Vices ○A Rulebook for Restless Rogues ●A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland ●His Heart's Obsession by Alex Beecroft ●Seducing the Sedgwicks by Cat Sebastian ○It Takes Two to Tumble ○A Gentleman Never Keeps Score ○Two Rogues Make a Right ●Hard Sell by Hudson Lin ●Green Men World by KJ Charles ○The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal (can be read as a stand-alone. is also not really a romance, per-se, although they sure do fuck. more like if shelock holmes had been a ghost-hunter, and watson had told us about all the sex they were having) ○Spectred Isle (n.b. this was meant to be the first book in a series that is on hold indefinitely, though i enjoyed it plenty on its own)

●Winterbourne series by Joanna Chambers (there's one more novella in this series but none of my libraries has it) ○Introducing Mr. Winterbourne ○Mr. Winterbourne's Christmas ○The First Snow of Winter ●The Vicar and the Rake by Annabelle Greene ●The Gentleman and the Spy by Neil S. Plakcy ●The Lord and the Frenchman by Neil S. Plakcy ●Unfit to Print by KJ Charles ●Brook Street by Ava March ●Enlightenment Trilogy by Joanna Chambers ○Provoked ○Beguiled ○Enlightened ○The Bequest (epilogue novella) ●Unnatural by Joanna Chambers ●Restored by Joanna Chambers ●Society of Gentlemen by KJ Charles (another one where the whole series is worthwhile for the story, even if i didn't love all of the romances. the characters are endearing and there's an excellent little series epilogue availble on the author's website) ○The Ruin of Gabriel Ashleigh (prequel novella) ○A Fashionable Indulgence ○A Seditious Affair ○A Gentleman's Position

●Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall ●Hither, Page by Cat Sebastian ●The Missing Page by Cat Sebastian ●Sins of the Cities by KJ Charles ○An Unseen Attraction ○An Unnatural Vice ○An Unsuitable Heir ●Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston ●Bright Falls series by Ashley Herring Blake (I'm still on a waitlist for the third book, which just came out) ○Delilah Green Doesn't Care ○Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail ●Fake it 'til You Make Out by Isla Olsen ●The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite ●The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows by Olivia Waite ●The Lilywhite Boys by KJ Charles ○The Rat-Catcher's Daugher (prequel novella) ○Any Old Diamonds ○Guilded Cage ○Masters in this Hall (sequel novella) ●England World by KJ Charles ○Proper English ○Think of England ●Will Darling Adventures by KJ Charles ○Slippery Creatures ○The Sugared Game ○Subtle Blood

●The Lady's Secret by Joanna Chambers ●A Charm of Magpies series by KJ Charles ○The Magpie Lord ○A Case of Possession ○Flight of Magpies ●Other KJ Charles book linked to the Magpies world ○A Queer Trade ○Rag and Bone ○Jackdaw ●Wanted, A Gentleman by KJ Charles ●The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by KJ Charles ●A Thief in the Night by KJ Charles (novella linked to Gentle Art) ●Band Sinister by KJ Charles ●Unmasked by the Marquess by Cat Sebastian ●A Duke in Disguise by Cat Sebastian

romance roundup part 1

#if the random paragraph breaks don't work to make tumblr process this post. i have one more idea to try but it sucks.#wip wednesday #romance roundup #look at my opinions boy

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gothark · 4 months ago

Text

Books I've read in July 2024

And what I thought about them:

The Husky And His White Cat Shizun Vol 1 - I looked at a problematic person and said 'yes, you. i will keep you' no joke though I breezed through this one, so invested like wdym????

5 Stars

The Borrow a Boyfriend Club - literally based on 'what if everyone was a stereotype' and I really wanted the characters to be more than that? and they were, but all that got added was that they were all fucking mean

DNF

The Sky Blues - really didn't like it at the beginning but I didn't want to DNF another book right away so I continued and I think I liked it more at the end? Might just have taken me hostage instead though. Cheesy.

3.75 Stars

Tadek and the Princess - Follow up Novella to 'A Taste of Gold and Iron' and it made me bawl my eyes out. i was ugly sobbing, such a good exploration of grief and not allowing yourself to feel that grief. chefs kiss.

5 Stars

The Lightning-Struck Heart - I just couldn't get into this one. Maybe me and T.J. Klune just don't mix but this kind of humor goes from kinda funny to really fucking annoying in like 4 chapters.

DNF

Reforged - I just got over A Taste of Gold and Iron and this punted me right back into it, very similar feel but also different? I dunno how to explain it but if you liked one of these you will probably like the other one too. This just missed that slight spark to make it amazing.

4.75 Stars

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories - Jesus fucking Christ. Like. WHAT. I hated this, this is legit the worst book I've ever read. If you like stories that sexualise the abuse of women at the hands of men in literally every single story this is the book for you. Maybe I'm just stupid but none of these stories gave women any agency, everything was just done TO them. Hard no. Gross.

0.25 Stars

She Who Became The Sun - Holy Shit. My beloved. Actually just my favorite fucking book ever. Like Shelley??? Hello??? How did you write this masterwork? Still can't decide if Zhu or Ouyang is my beloved (it's Ouyang) Pls, everyone read this. i'm keeping the second book in the series for dark times.

5 Stars

The Past Is Red - It was fine? I didn't like the guy, whatever his name was, i didn't like the rift between the silly names for things and the at times really horrific things going on?? the reveal at the end felt kind of cheap and unbelievable.

2.25 Stars

MADK Vol 1 - Insane? like... wtf did I just read? homoerotic cannibalism the manga. i was intrigued though and the art is really pretty??? (help)

4 Stars

MADK Vol 2 - i have no clue what's going on anymore, i'm just here for the ride. things are happening and my last brainvell has left the chat

4 Stars

The Fragile Threads of Power - CONFLICTED. I liked it? the world is really interesting? the problem was the 50 different pov's and that i really like some of those characters and really disliked others. i was also a little confused at the beginning because this was the first book i read in this universe (which you totally can do, everything you might be missing gets explained)

4.25 Stars

Herald of the Witch's Mark - i thought this was the last book in the series but it wasn't and i was lowkey so glad to be finished with the series because we have a serious love/hate relationship going on. i'm also just not the biggest fae person I've realised. oopsies.

3 Stars

Red Rising - my god, this is so good. completely changes it's vibe like halfway into the book and i'm all for it??? darrow is fucking insane, batshit crazy. this man will lead me to an early grave and I will THANK HIM FOR IT. he is my favorite frat bro who does murder in space. right after she who became the sun in my fave book rankings.

5 Stars

The Lightning Thief - I read the first five books once as a child and man this just hit such a good nostalgia spot, it also has none of the bad taste that harry potter does and this was just such a nice and easy read. like a nice rainy day in a warm blanket. would recommend.

5 Stars

The Extraordinaries - I actually started reading this at the end of 2023 and that should basically say everything. So technically this is my first TJ Klune, not Lightning-Struck Heart but I gave up on it after. Microwaving a cricket to make it radioactive to gain super powers was just too much. also the main character? felt kind of offensive if he was supposed to be a character with autism because no way in hell would any real person actually be like this

DNF

A Darker Shade of Magic - We have the problem here, I like the world but the pov characters are the ones I did not like in Threads of Power (lila) i'm sorry, i just don't vibe with her personally overall a good book though?

4 Stars

Shadow and Bone - man it just took too long to get to the reveal, once again i didn't really vibe with any of the characters (except for mal) and i want to punt the Darkling to the dark side of the moon

3.75 Stars

The Sea of Monsters - what can I say? i'm a sucker for greek mythology so this is just really my thing and it's just such a nice break to take between other books, also the twist at the end? i love that shit lol

5 Stars

Firefly Lane - so this book was basically taking the blueprint for the life of the typical midwest, american white women (maybe a little extra shitty life) and it's this book. it feels like going down a check list. young girls getting sexually assaulted? check. young girls getting with older men? getting pregnant when it wasn't planned? having a miscarriage? getting married to the guy who liked your best friend before he liked you? surprise twins? (being a bad mom lol) but that works for some people, just not really some gay guy who thinks marriage and children are kind of icky (personally, for me) also the parts where it was heavily implied that the one women was only unhappy because she had her dream job but no husband or children??? so ew. the ending got me though because cancer runs in the family. oh also just way too fucking long. needs to be like 40% shorter, so boring for so much of the time

3.5 Stars

#that last one got kinda long sorry #books #lgbtq books #lgbtq #mlm books #wlw books #books and reading #reading #reading in july #july reads #book blog #book review #bookworm #manga

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aceofthegreenajah · 6 months ago

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13 books! tagged by @old-man-ghost

1)Last book I read I read Ocean at the end of the lane in two days recently. It was a very fun concept. It's the kind of book that would have left a lifelong impression on me if I had read it young. But now it was just one good book in a long line of others. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2) A book I recommend Let's go with a Taste of Gold and Iron. It's a very fun mystery, and the main character made me go. Wait. I know that feeling! I have a brain exactly like that too! (Riddled with anxiety and self-doubt at the most mundane things, but when things get serious, it's suddenly all business.)

3) A book that I couldn’t put down: I don't know if it exactly fits, because I wasn't fully invested from the start. But I did read all 500+ chapters of Omniscient Readers Viewpoint in just three days. And it is the only book I've ever read that make me go "Wait. I didn't know you could do that with a book." There are so many levels of meta in this book. It's like three books in one.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more): I reread a ton of books. Let's go for Kalevala just because I was reminded of it while taking the picture at the end of this post. I used to read it every 6 months or so as a teenager. When we were told to read it for school I just read it again instead of telling anyone I'd read it like six times already.

5) A book on my TBR: One that has been there for ages is the Thief by Megan Whalen Turner. I hope to get around to it one day. I already bought it after all.

6) A book I’ve put down: Putting things down (as in meaning to continue then forgetting about it) happens often. Putting down and deciding not to continue very rarely. Last was The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal. I have no idea why. In concept is sounds like just my thing and I have enjoyed her other books. My mind just couldn't get a grip on it, my attention always started to waver instantly.

7) A book on my wish list: I want an ORV official english translation SO BAD. Where is it??? It's announced and everything! Same for Nirvana In FIre, actually. Usually if I wish for a book I just buy it. It has to not exist to stay on my wish list long.

8) A favorite book from childhood: How young are we talking? Roald Dahl's witches book was my favourite at age 5. His dark materials at age 8. Good omens at age 12. Farseer trilogy at age 14. (all ages approximate)

9) A book you would give to a friend: 've gifted two people with All systems red. I would love to give it to everyone I know.

10) The most books you own by a single author: Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. As long as all 8 physical tgcf books and 4 svsss books count as separate. Though Brandon Sanderson comes very close. I think I have 7 of his books as physical copies and a few as audiobooks.

11) A nonfiction book you own: The Dawn of Everything is both excellent worldbuilding material, and really opened my eyes on how uncreative and stuck I was about how societies 'must' work. Applicable to real life as well.

12) What are you currently reading: I am still reading Exordia. It is an excellent book I'd recommend to everyone (as long as you are not particularly sensitive to body horror). But that is also why I'm going slowly because I only want to read it when I can concentrate properly. I am also reading Trash of the Count's Family when I need a less serious book, and an isekai manga, and What technology wants. The best way for me to read stuff is read whatever I feel like at the moment.

13) What are you planning on reading next? I got The Traitor Baru Cormorant at the same time I got Exordia so that's probably next.

My shelfie (one of several bookshelves. I should really weed them):

#my stuff

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the-hinky-panda · 2 years ago

Note

He want lipstick, lip gloss, hickeys too

Warning: Explicit (sexual situations) Also, there is one last part to this series.

He hates fancy events. He hates the snobbery, the trying to outdo the Jonese and not just keep up with them. The art gallery is made up of tiny rooms, people constantly bumping into each other. The air is heavy with expensive perfume and idle chatter. It’s claustrophobic.

Terry recognizes a photo when he turns a corner. It’s a dynamic picture made to look black and white because of the early morning light. There are skeletal branches of the trees in one of the many parks in the Bronx that make a band across the picture. The sky is lightening slightly but the full moon appears in the top corner. The sun must have just broken the horizon because the wrought iron entrance gate to the park is a stunning gold color, the only splash of color in the photo. He finds the title of the piece on a small plague under the left corner.

The Gate of Babylon.

“Terry?”

He wonders who said his name because it takes a moment to recognize you. Your hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the base of your neck, not a messy pile on top of your head held together with a pen. You’re in a 40’s style dress, a short sleeved buttoned bodice, wide belt around your waist, and a full skirt that hits you mid calf. He’s never seen you in a dress before. You’re also wearing makeup, cat-eye wings around your already large eyes, your lips painted a sinful red.

He’s overcome with want.

Ever since the diner, ever since he took a shot and reached for you, you have consistently reached back. Texts and phone calls at all hours of the day or night. Little knowing looks at crime scenes, a brush of hands here and there. Is it love? He doesn’t know. His heart is still too wounded to be able to answer that. But it’s something and judging from the nervous twist of your hands, you feel something too.

He leans forward and you copy the movement so his lips are next to your ear. “Do you want to get out here?”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate, confident.

He takes your hand, your fingers slipping smoothly between his. “I’m getting really good at ducking out of these types of situations.”

You smile, genuine and hopeful. “I’ll just follow you.”

He winds through the building, through the different displays and exhibits, until he finds the back stairs. A quick climb up a few flights and he shoulders open the door to the roof. Cool night air hits him in the face and he breathes fully for the first time this evening. There’s a small rooftop patio: a settee and table, strings of lights that are turned off since clearly the party below wasn’t meant to spill up into this private area. You take a chair from a little bistro table and put it under the doorknob so no one will interrupt…whatever this happens to be. You don’t let him guess for long; you never do. Your arms twine around his neck, fingers sliding through his hair and gently encourage him to bend his head.

You’re the first woman he’s kissed since Rose. That’s the reason why this kiss feels like a lightning bolt has been fired through him, or so he tells himself. His hands curl around your ribcage, his fingers fitting neatly into the dip of your spine. He likes the way you fit into his hands, warm and sweet. Your mouth opens to him and you taste of citrus and alcohol, a lemon drop martini. You pull back slightly and even in the dim light he can see the flush on your cheeks, your wide pupils, the rise and fall of your chest.

“I’m really glad you showed up tonight.”

Terry presses his forehead to yours. “Me too.”

A smile, genuine and full of joy, breaks across your face. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you since that night in the diner.”

That night had been over a month ago. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to kiss you that night too. Kiss you, hold you close, feel you move under him. You were the first woman that inspired these desires in the last year. No, year and half. God, has it been that long? Is it long enough?

“Terry?”

The nervous tremble in your voice pulls him back from the mental spiral. Now that his mind is back, his mouth is refusing to work and you misunderstand his silence.

“I’m sorry,” you step back. “I’m so sorry, I completely misunderst-”

His mouth slams down on yours as he drags you back towards him. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your dress is covering too much of your body and the taste of your skin makes him forget where he is. The slender column of your neck, scented with lavender and thyme, bends perfectly against his mouth, vibrating with your moan.

He maneuvers the two of you down onto the settee, him wedged in the corner of it, you straddling his lap. You fluff out the skirt, yanking the extra fabric out of the way so there’s minimal layers between you. His head hits the back of the couch when you grind down on his hard cock.

“Fuck, Snaps!”

Your still painted lips curve into a smile. “That’s the idea, Bruno.”

You don’t look like you though. Your hair is too neat, the make up hiding the natural color of your skin. He reaches up and pulls the clip from your hair, letting it fall in cascades over your shoulders. That’s better. Next, he tries to swipe at the lipstick with the pad of his thumb but the bright red color stubbornly stays on. You take the opportunity though to draw his thumb into your mouth, your velvet tongue curling around his finger.

“Sn-Snaps, babe, you gotta either slow down or speed up.”

You release his thumb with a wet pop. Sweet Jesus. Speed up it is then. His hands reach for the buttons on the front of your dress. He wants to see you, as much as he can in the given circumstance of a rooftop quickie in the early morning hours. He manages to get the bodice of your dress unbuttoned and pushed down your arms, the floral fabric bunched around your waist, to reveal the pale green lace bra. The flush on your skin, across the swell of your breasts, contrasts with the sage color of the lace. You look so soft and delicate.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Your clever hands have already undone his belt and pause in their unzipping of his pants. Your head dips down and you scoff. “Terry, you don’t have to…”

You really don’t know, do you? You have no concept of what you’ve done to him and over half the men on the force in the Bronx. In a world full of fake airs and plastic wear, your authenticity stands out like a shining beacon. The fact that you have an easy smile, sparkling eyes, and softest skin he’s ever felt is just a bonus. He wishes he had a bed to lay you out on and properly show you just how much he does have to. But maybe later you’ll let him show you how he sees you. Drag you out from behind the lens you hide behind so much and give you a clearer picture of the world around you, including how you fit into it.

He pulls you back down to capture your mouth with his, tries to pour his thoughts and feelings into the kiss. He must be at least partially successful because you return the kiss, lips, tongue and teeth. Your spine bends, curling around him, your hair creating a curtain around both your faces. It brings back the intimacy of the moment, sealing you both off from the world around you, allowing you both to refocus. His hands trail down the slender slope of your neck and over the swell of your breasts. Your hands go immediately back to his zipper, pulling down the tab and reaching inside. The first brush of your hand rips a groan from his throat. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s done this. Which reminds him.

“Wait, Snaps,” he reaches behind him and grabs his wallet, pulling out a condom. “Here.”

You stand up quickly, reaching under your skirt and sliding your panties off while he rolls the condom on himself. He’s thankful for there being a barrier, hoping it’ll make him last longer than a riled up, horny teenager. You deserve better than that. You deserved better than a quick fuck on a rooftop too but before he can give that much more thought, you’re climbing back into his lap. Once again, you spread out the full skirt as you lower yourself down onto him. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you from moving.

“Need a minute,” he pants.

You press your forehead to his, the triple sec and lemon from your martini wafts across his face. “Feels so good, Terry.”

“No shit.”

And it does. Even through the condom, he can feel your tight, slick grip on him, and it’s perfect. You’re not too tight but tight enough for him to feel when you clench around him. Instead of rising up, you grind against him, and his vision almost blacks out. There’s something about not being able to see him disappearing into you, all he can do is feel it. Feel the circular motion of your hips, the rise of his own to get as deep as possible inside of you. There’s a beautiful blush that spreads across your lace covered breasts and up your neck, spilling across your cheeks. The red lipstain is finally coming off, the natural deep pink hue of your lips coming through again. Your pupils are blown wide and you’re the loveliest thing he’s seen in such a long time.

Your fingers slide through his hair, trace over the sides of his face. There’s such tenderness in your touch and it forces him to swallow down the lump of emotion that rises up in his throat. This is more than just a quick fuck or two lonely people coming together to blow off steam. There’s emotion, desire, and want all behind the gentle touches. This is much more serious than what he originally believed.

“Ter…please...” you whine prettily.

“What do you need, babe?” He’ll give you anything, anything you want.

Your lips ghost over his, featherlight in touch, as you grind down against him. “You.”

He buries his face against your neck and comes so hard he has to bite his tongue to keep quiet. He can feel you tremble as your own orgasm overtakes you, pulls you closer to him as the aftershocks of your pleasure dissipate. Your head rests on his shoulder, a short puff of air emitted from a laugh.

“Fuck, that was amazing.”

He laughs in response. “I concur.”

You reluctantly remove yourself from him, taking your slip off and using it to clean the sticky mess on the inside of your thighs before sliding your underwear back on. You turn the fabric over to a clean section and offer it to him. He removes the condom and ties it off, cleaning himself off as well. You find a small trash can over by the door and he disposes of the condom. You fold up the slips and tuck it behind the wide belt to hide the soiled fabric.

“So,” he starts to say, “do you want to go back down to the party?”

You smile kindly, happily, your eyes glinting in the dim moonlight. “No, I’d rather stay here with you.”

He is glad for the poor lighting now, to hide the flush of embarrassment that flashes across his face. He props himself again on the settee and you lay beside him, head on his chest and fingers tracing patterns on his shirt and hands. You both must doze off at some point because when he opens his eyes again, the sun is just starting to peek between the skyscrapers of the New York skyline.

He recognizes you in the light of the sunrise. Your hair loose and mussed, the lipstick kissed from your mouth finally, and the cotton fabric of your dress wrinkled. He recognizes you now and realizes with the dawning of the new day and the slow smile crossing your face as you look up at him, that he loves you and you may be so inclined to return those feelings.

So when he drops you off at your apartment that morning, he runs as fast as he can from yet another heartbreak.

#terry bruno fic #terry bruno x you #terry bruno x reader #the lens series

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