#after that the coloring and lighting was fast-ish

[nessa-rpgs]

Back with another big one ! Kellen fighting a bandit leader !

[macheriee]

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

[puck-luck]

home for the holidays | luke hughes

warnings: holiday quickie, gotta be quiet bc there's family around so like semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, dom!ish luke, light dirty talk, marks, light gag (fingers in mouth), talk about using toys

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: you and luke make a no-sex pact during your time at luke's home, but that quickly breaks after you exchange christmas presents.

wc: 2027

It’s your first Christmas with Luke’s family and the agreement was that you wouldn’t have sex in Luke’s bedroom with all of his family around. You’re already feeling lucky that his parents are the kind of people who allow partners to share beds during the holidays, rather than splitting them up and sending the partners to the guest room. Given the fact that there are a couple of girlfriends visiting this Christmas, it would be a tight fit in the guest room. You love a sleepover with the girls, obviously, but you’d rather have a sleepover with your boyfriend.

The fast pace of the NHL only breaks for three days– Christmas Eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day– so the “No Sex” pact should have been easy. Three days is nothing. It’s only 72 hours, six of which you spend in the car or on the airplane, so it’s more like 66 hours. You also have eight hours of sleep per night, and you’re staying for two nights, so that’s another 16 hours lost. So, really, you only have to make it through 50 hours without having sex. 

You make it through the first 24 hours just fine. You’re done with Christmas Eve dinner and you’ve all hung out for a little while, drinking eggnog and exchanging stories and laughter with Luke’s relatives. 

His hand had grown heavier on your thigh or waist throughout the night, as you consumed more of the cream-colored drink. It was rare for Luke to leave your side, except to refill your drink, and he’d had the wherewithall to cut you off after two cups of the spiked eggnog, knowing that you’d hate to have a hangover in front of his family the following morning. 

By the time the clock struck midnight, you were beyond ready to go to bed. The relatives had left the house with kind ��see you tomorrow”s for the formal Christmas dinner that would take place at Luke’s grandmother’s house. Luke’s parents had gone to bed, too– Jim climbed the stairs right away, while Ellen hung out with the boys for about thirty minutes before going upstairs herself. That had just left the boys and the girlfriends, who had shot the shit for as long as they could, but you all were yawning after such a long day, so the party was cut short.

You and Luke had decided to do one more thing before bed on Christmas Eve. You were going to exchange gifts.

You’d gone first because Luke had insisted. You’d gotten him one of those handheld massage guns. Jack had one for their apartment already, but he was always hogging it because technically it belonged to him, so Luke wanted one of his own. 

The delighted surprise on his face and his earnest thanks, as well as the sweet kiss he’d given you, already had you hot and heavy. Luke’s body was no stranger to you and, probably partially because of the eggnog, you were in the mood to reconnect with him.

Then you’d seen the necklace. You’re still gaping at it when Luke speaks.

“It’s a sapphire,” Luke says softly. “I know you said you didn’t want an ‘L’ necklace, so I got you something more subtle. Sapphire is my birthstone– I looked it up– and I thought the blue would look pretty on you.”

“I love it,” you tell him. You carefully extract the necklace from its box and hold it out to Luke. “Will you put it on me?” You turn from him, moving your hair to the side and baring your neck. 

With gentle hands, Luke reaches around and sets the necklace in place. The sapphire heart rests between your collarbones. After he fixes the clasp, Luke’s fingers trail along the nape of your neck. You feel his lips brush against your skin, reverent and loving, and your “No Sex” pact goes entirely out the window.

The kiss is rushed and, while you’re the one leading it, Luke is not far behind. He’s actually rather quick to cover your body with his hands. His right goes to your behind, laying on your cheek and groping the flesh. He splays the fingers on his left hand, which engulfs a good expanse of your back. 

Your clothes seem to fly off, as do Luke’s. You’re left in your bra and panties, while Luke is in his boxers, and he pulls you to the bed. Tongues tangled, Luke lays atop you and brings his hand to your core.

You moan aloud when Luke sheaths two fingers into your pussy, working quickly to open you up. You and Luke freeze, eyes wide. Your legs are spread and his fingers are still inside of you, so anyone who wakes up and comes to check on you would get an eyeful.

Luckily, no one does, and Luke chuckles in relief. “You gotta be quieter, baby,” Luke mumbles before kissing you again. “I don’t want anyone interrupting us.”

“I will,” you promise hurriedly, tangling your fingers in Luke’s curls and tugging him closer.

Luke curls and scissors his fingers inside of you. You honestly try your best to stay quiet, but Luke’s digits always manage to draw noises from you without much effort. You kiss him. You press your lips together. No matter how you try to stifle yourself, noises leak from your mouth anyway. 

It isn’t until Luke plants his other hand over your mouth that you’re silenced. 

“You never shut up,” Luke says with a goofy smile, sounding more proud of himself than upset that you can’t follow his suggestion. “Do I make you feel good, sweetheart?” He strokes your g-spot after asking, which has you moaning into his palm like an answer to his question and arching your back. Luke grins. “Ready for my cock, baby?” Another stroke to your spot and another moan.

You feel his fingers withdraw from your cunt, which leaves you feeling empty and wanting for more. He’d nearly brought you to orgasm and now he’s taking it away. “Luke,” you whisper against his hand. He goes to remove it, but you grasp his wrist and hold him in place.

Luke quirks his eyebrows. He wipes the slick from your cunt on his boxers before pulling his cock from the flap in the front. “So no one sees my ass if we wake them up,” he explains, stroking himself. He makes sure the crotch of your panties stays to the side, then begins to inch forward.

Your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the mattress. You sigh, lips slackening at the sensation of his cock rubbing against your insides.

“Gonna be quick,” Luke tells you, dipping his head to kiss against your jawline. “You feel so good.”

You nod, blinking at him and maintaining eye contact. He feels so good. He’s the one who makes this feel the way it does.

His hips roll into yours rapidly, sending sparks through your being. Now that Luke doesn’t need to line himself up with your core, his hand has found its way above your shoulder, planted securely against the bed and keeping himself steady. 

Your nails find his arm, then his bicep, then his back. Angry red lines rise on his skin, which will hopefully fade by tomorrow. It would be terrible and scarring for one of Luke’s parents to catch you in the act now, but you’d feel pretty embarrassed if they were to notice the scratches and ask Luke about them tomorrow. You bring your hands back to Luke’s hair.

Chancing it, Luke groans under his breath and removed his hand from your mouth. He kisses you, trailing his tongue along your bottom lip. 

Tilting your chin down, you capture his mouth and suck on his tongue. 

He uses his free hand to draw your knee up over his hip, which brings his cock to a new spot inside of you. It’s deep and he’s constantly hitting your walls, sending jolts through your stomach. 

“Oh, fuck, Luke,” you whimper, louder than intended. 

Luke quiets you with a hush, then pushes his index and middle fingers between your lips. The pads of his fingers press down on your tongue, stealing some of the breath from your lungs. 

Your tongue starts to move, sucking on his fingers like you would suck on his cock. 

“Greedy girl,” Luke coos. He pistons his hips into yours. “Touch your clit for me, baby. Touch it like I would.”

Spit pools in your mouth when your jaw drops at the allure of his words, hand finding the apex of your legs and circling the bundle frantically. 

“No,” Luke chastizes. “You know that’s not what I’d do.”

You draw your eyebrows together and whine petulantly, but you halt your movements anyway. 

“Go on,” Luke encourages. “Do it like me or don’t touch at all. I’ll make you come regardless.”

He slows his hips and eyes you, challenging you. You know that he’ll stop if you don’t listen and you cannot fathom having his cock leave you.

Closing your eyes, cheeks burning a little bit, you pinch your clit between your fingers and roll it. It’s a move that Luke discovered when he was toying with you after morning practice one day, edging you mindlessly and testing to see what you like. It was relatively early in your relationship and you swear that Luke’s “discovery” was just the culmination of a bunch of near-orgasms that he had torn away from you. He’s been using this move for months and it has brought you to the edge more times than you care to admit. 

Smiling devilishly, Luke begins to fuck into you quicker than before. “That’s my girl,” he says. “Can’t believe you’re going to come in my old bed. So slutty, baby. I love it.” He pushes his fingers further into your mouth, silencing your response to his dirty talk. 

As embarrassing as it is, the pinching and twisting of your clit provides a bizarre mixture of pain and pleasure, which make your nerves feel abused and overcome in the best way. 

You start to breathe heavily, panting around Luke’s fingers as his cock batters your insides and your fingers stimulate your clit. A bit of drool pools between Luke’s fingers, mouth as wet around his fingers as your pussy is around his cock. 

Luke gags you on his fingers, his thumb pressing against the soft skin under your jaw while his digits flatten your tongue. You suck desperately, whimpering around him. Your cunt clenches in time with your swallows, which pulls Luke to the edge.

He comes undone first, orgasm starting as a trickle then turning into a series of spurts inside your pussy. It feels scalding against your sensitive inner walls, mixing with your juices. 

“Come with me,” Luke tells you as his orgasm hits. He comes closer and bites over your neck, refusing to suck and mark since he knows it’ll bother you the following day. “Come, babe. Keep touching your pretty, swollen clit and milk my cock when you come.”

His words tip you over the edge, tinging your eyesight with black spots. His fingers act as a wonderful gag, as they’ve been doing all night, but the addition of his ring finger keeps your wanton moans from shaking the house. 

Luke fucks into you through the aftershocks, truly allowing your entrance to squeeze every last drop from his member. He pulls out only to plug you again with his fingers, the ones that had just left your mouth. They slide inside you easily, aided by your spit and the mixture of cum that resides inside of you.

Plastering himself to your side, Luke kisses you sweetly. “So, you like the necklace?” He asks. 

You breathe out a little laugh. “Love it. It’s so cute, Luke.”

“Aw, just like you,” Luke says with a shit-eating grin.

You hit his shoulder, blushing. “Shut up. You’re so weird.”

“Just complimenting my pretty girlfriend,” Luke continues. He bends his arm at the elbow and props his head up on his fist, looking down at you. “Hey, do you think we can use my massage gun as a vibrator?”

notes: merry christmas to those who celebrate and happy end-of-year to everyone who DOESN'T celebrate christmas but still wants to be included! love you guys. i hope this was a satisfactory christmas present <3

[1l-ynn]

Want You So Bad

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

1.4k words // use of y/n // mutual pining-ish

a/n: this is very long and WILL HAVE a part 2. i realized that i kinda didnt focus on the romance of this like at all... EEK I am open to any feedback!! please tell me if there's anything i need to fix

part two

"No ones asked you? For real?" Nobaras brows pinched in confusion as she stabbed at the peices of lettuce in her bowl. Homecoming was just around the corner, and although you didn't care to go, seeing all your friends get asked out left and right left a bad taste in your mouth.

It seemed like everyone and their moms were getting asked out. Of course the cutest couple, Kirara and Hakari were going together no questions asked. Maki had asked Yuta an hour before lunch. Toge and Panda were going just to cause chaos, and having no one else, Nobara and Yuji decided to go together.

"Yes for real. What did you expect?" You scrunched your face, huffing as you sipped on your strawberry milk. Your style was admittedly different from your group of friends, their light colors and fast fashion seemed to clash with your velvety style. Not even the school uniform could conceal your preference for darker clothes. Maybe thats what scared others off.

"Well you can always go with Yuji and I, I doubt Megumis coming." She drops her fork, wiping her mouth and dusting her hands off. The lunch period was coming to an end. And as she rises from the table, bringing her tray with her, she finishes her statement. "Not unless Yuji successfully forces him."

Megumi had the right idea. Who'd wanna go to an event where high school students get together in a stuffy gym room with their tacky decorations and overplayed pop music? Or better yet, where the girls are practically breaking their ankles from their heels and the guys are sweating bullets into the cheap fabric of their suits.

"Then what's the point of even going?" You say, trying to match her walking pace. You and Megumi weren't close, but that didn't stop the fuzziness you felt anytime he was near.

Though you're sure he doesn't look your way.

It was practically common sense that Megumi wouldn't be joining you guys, he was more of a home body. There's been countless times where you went to hang out with the group and he was no where to be seen. But that's okay, his isolation only made you wanna learn more about what was under those brooding expressions and the walls he kept up so high.

---------

"You're fucking lucky." The dark haired boy grumbled, he looked rather sharp this evening. Too sharp. He was originally planning on pulling an all nighter. Playing valorant until his eyes bled or until Tsumiki had enough of the string of obscenities he would scream at the TV each time he died.

But no, here he was being Yuji and Nobaras personal driver. He's lucky for Gojo, without him Megumi would look a hot mess. He was dressed in a dark gray button up paired with black slacks. His hair was unruly and had no plan to tame itself, and his cologne had this trace of woody scent.

"C'mon Megs- it'll be fun!" Yuji said enthusiastically, though it didn't take a scientist to realize that was bullshit. Megumi knew that he was really there to drive them from homecoming to some after party. "Plus! Y/n's coming, aren't you excited?"

Thats what got him. It was the best manipulation tactic ever, and Yuji knew it. Although he would kill to go back home, get in some sweats and play Valorant, nothing beat the rush of excitement he got thinking about how nice you would look. Granted you always looked nice, your style was always something that interested him.

Your eerie color scheme appealed to others, but Megumi wanted to be the one to uncover those secrets you hid behind those drappy sleeves. Though its not like you guys were close, he was fine wondering why you were thinking behind those perfectly blended smoky eyes.

"Who knows maybe something'll happen tonight?"

"Yeah right, this is so dumb." Megumi ran a hand through his hair. "She's probably gonna latch onto Nobara."

"Okay yeah but- its worth a shot right?" Yuji gives Megumi a sheepish smile that he only rolls his eyes at. He huffs as he pulls out of the driveway and on to Nobaras.

------

"I don't know..." You stood in front of Nobaras full body mirror. Looking at the dress you guys rushed to buy a few days ago. It was complete luck you got such a beautiful dress, completely your style. The fabric was made of black lace, its corset was tight and form fitting, and the neckline hung a little lower against your chest.

Nobara and Maki give eachother a pointed look before looking back at you. Could you see yourself right now? "Girl what are you talking about? There's nothing wrong." Maki says as she touches up her lipstick. She looks up at you with an incredibly deep scowl. You silently cursed yourself for being the reason for Makis sour face.

Maki set down her red lipstick, it went perfectly with the green pattern of her dress. It was a simple style, the only thing about it was the cut in the skirt. Nonetheless she looked perfect. Yuta would think so aswell.

"Yeah, you look fine.." Nobara pauses before looking at you cheekily, a smirk painting its way onto her face. "You look fine."

She was in a satin red dress with an asymmetrical skirt. Her black heels were practically toothpicks, it was insane how she was keeping herself upright.

You roll your eyes, continuing to pick yourself apart. "Doesn't something look off?" Maybe it was because your hair pins were poking into your head and you were sure it was gonna give you a headache. Or maybe it was the fact that your makeup was a lot lighter than usual.

"Look, you look great. Those guys are gonna wish they were got their grabs, okay?" She hugs you from behind, pouting a bit before starts speaking. "Y'know-"

"KUGISAKI. The boys are down here." Her grandmother called from downstairs.

The boys..? Wasnt it just supposed to be Yuji?

"Finally." Maki grumbled, grabbing her hand purse and walking out the door.

"Wait, what does she mean boys-?" Your question goes unanswered as she unlatches from your back, grabbing her purse and making her way out the door.

Her head pops in for a second. "You look fucking hot, okay?" The brunette gives you one last smirk before saying "Megumi will think so, now let's go."

"Wait- what?!"

---

"They've been up there all evening. I don't even think they got any food..." Nobaras grandma says as she wraps up the last of her Onigiri. Placing them into a small bag before handing it to Yuji. His fat ass already digging in. "Take these so you guys don't starve."

Megumi's face immediately pulls into a scowl, as he raises a hand to smack Yuji with. Earning a yelp from the pink haired boy. "Thank you Ma'am. Thats very generous of you."

"Ehh..Don't mention it." She waves her hand, beginning to clean the kitchen. Just in time for the girls to start walking down. First Maki, then Nobara and lastly y/n..

Y/n...?

"Oh would you c'mon already?!" Nobara throws her head back in exasperation. She looked up at the stairs with an expectant glance. "God so help me-"

Megumis adams apple bobbed in his throat, holding that same expecting glance. He was silently preparing himself for your arrival. His brain filling with possibilities of what you could be wearing.

"Get down here before we drag you down." Maki was already starting to stomp up the stairs.

"Okay- okay I'm coming.." You slowly walk down steps, Your hands clutching onto your long skirt so it wouldn't get caught under your heel.

Megumi's breath hitched- There you were in all your glory. Your dress was perfect. The corset fit snugly on your waist. Like it was tailored to your form, or better yet a second skin. It continued to hug you down to your knees showing off the cute divots where your hips were. Your sleeves went down in that same fashion, draping down your forearm. And to top it all off your neckline rested just a bit lower than your collarbones.

Megumi practically had hearts for eyes, watching you look around nervously. Your makeup was simpler than usual but that didn't take away from the look overall. He was stuck in that daze until you both locked eyes.

"Finally. Now let's go take pictures!"

part two

[vintagerpg]

This is CyBORG (2022), Stockholm Kartel’s cyberpunk remix of MÖRK BORG and goddamn.

When MÖRK BORG dropped, I was like, this is some super aggressive, brightly colored graphic design and illustration. Just totally eye-shocking. Nothing’s gonna top this. And yet. If you’re a fan of punk or metal or other musical styles interested in speed, you’ll be familiar with a curious phenomenon: what sounds blisteringly fast now, in a few years, will become strangely mid-tempo when compared to the new contemporary tremolo. Same thing here. Looking through CyBORG, Johan Nohr’s art and design for MÖRK BORG suddenly seems evenhanded and levelheaded. CyBORG, meanwhile, sees Nohr absolutely shred. The brights are brighter, the blacks blacker, the fucked uppedness more fuck-ed upp-ed. The introduction of urban design elements and glitchy visual references to the digital world add new levels of grime and grit to scrape through. Truly, I can think of no better visual encapsulation of cyberpunk’s rage as page after page of this book.

The game is, of course, a hack of MÖRK BORG, adhering to those light, D&D-ish systems to provide a fast and easy way to enact your wrath-filled cyberpunk fantasies. There are many tables. There are nanotechnologies and infestations and drugs to feed into your hacker/nanomancer/killer/gear head. There are many corporations to channel your rage at and the world here seems somewhat more firmly realized than in the dying realm of MB. The game is frantically anti-capitalist, which I enjoy enormously (also, I saw someone complaining that if the creators are so anti-capitalist, then why are they charging money for their book; to that ding-dong I say: hur-hur, get fucked, capitalism=/=commerce).

Anyway, I think there is lots of room for different sorts of cyberpunk themed games in this golden age of ours, but that said, I do think the sharp aesthetic plus the sleek and easy systems of CyBORG are going to take up a lot of market share.

[wondrluv]

▷ missing him ; the film effect

➪ summary: gabe can't help but miss his boyfriend when he sees another video of him and his teammate

➪ warnings: gabe being upset/jealous-ish

➪ word count: 2.3k

➪ cupid's notes: guys i have not written anything in so long so i apologize in advance if this is kind of shitty. but also, i know i should've gotten how htey meet out first but like i said, i haven't written in so long that i just wanted to write something that i actually wnated to write. anyway, this is not how i thought this would turn out but i still love it! i wanted to do more jealous!gabe but that did not happen and i just wrote him being sad about will and mack's friendships

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Molls?”

Gabe’s soft voice drew Molly out of her thoughts from where she sat at her desk, working on a new film idea. Her knees were curled up into her chest, her feet resting in front of her on the chair with her head resting against her knees. She looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows at the uncharacteristically quiet tone of his voice, “Yeah?”

When she turned to face him, she was met with a slight pout on his face, wet hair falling into his face, and one of Will’s shirts adorning his body, all wrinkled. He was holding his phone and Molly could only assume he was watching TikToks or Instagram Reels again. However, as she looked at him, she could see the sadness in his eyes, the longing that lingered with it. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” She didn’t move, not until she knew that Gabe was 100% upset. 

It took him a few moments to respond to her, but when he did her heart cracked, “I miss him.”

She uncurled herself from her spot on her chair, making her way over to her bed to bring him into her chest and run her fingers through his hair. She knew he had been feeling this way for a few weeks, missing Will and wanting nothing more than to hop on a plane to San Jose and be curled up between him and her. 

It wasn’t often that Gabe let her or Will see the emotional side of him despite them being together for a few months now and friends for well over a year. He hated feeling vulnerable in general, much less in front of people he cared so much about what they thought of him. 

His phone caught her eye, the same flickers of light, the same colors flashing like clockwork. She looked over at it, seeing a video of Mack and Will replay over and over again. She sighed and leaned down to kiss Gabe’s head, holding him a little tighter. 

She knew this ran deeper than just him missing their boyfriend, he missed his friend, his best friend, his teammate. She knew that Gabe seeing Will with Mack, seeing him so close with someone that wasn’t him, hurt. They had been teammates first, they had gotten coffee before games together, laughed their asses off as Will tried to use Google Maps, talked and decompressed together after tough games, and all of it was over in a second. 

Molly’s voice was soft as she spoke, “He misses us too, Gabe. I promise you.”

“He hasn’t texted in three days, Molls,” Gabe’s voice cracked, “He hasn’t called in 9 days, hasn’t FaceTimed us in 12. Why won’t he talk to us? Why hasn’t he called us?”

Molly couldn’t even get a word out before he broke down, drenching her sweatshirt in tears he hadn’t let go of in weeks. All she could do was hold him, leaving kisses on his head and whisper sweet nothings to him, trying to calm him down. 

It worked eventually, 20 minutes later he was fast asleep against her chest, snoring softly. She released a deep breath of relief, reaching for her phone in her bedside caddy. She maneuvered her way into her texts, clicking on her messages with Will that she hardly used since the three had their group chat. 

Will was in New York with the team, and she could only hope that he was back at the hotel or on the bus, anywhere but on the plane. She didn’t bother sending him a text, immediately clicking on his contact and the call button, turning down the volume, and bringing it to her ear. 

A few seconds later Will’s laugh rang out from the speaker causing tears to sting in her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she had also missed him, she had been so caught up in classes and film ideas and filming, that she never gave herself the time to even think about missing him. Maybe she had done that on purpose, maybe she didn’t, but that didn’t matter now. 

“Will?”

If Will hadn’t known that he clicked the accept button on his girlfriend’s call and was actively listening to her instead of his teammates now, he probably wouldn’t have even heard her voice due to how soft it was. Though, because he was, he could also hear the slight crack in her voice that he unfortunately knew all too well. She was sad and it took everything in him not to blow up to find out what was wrong. 

Taking a deep breath, he waved his teammates off and walked out of their hotel room and into his own, sitting on the bed, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?”

Molly’s breath was shaky before responding, “It’s Gabe.”

“What? What’s wrong? Is he hurt? I didn’t get a tweet or notification about it. Is he sick? Nervous?”

“Will, Will, Will, please calm down. He’s fine.” She reassured him, easing his worries a bit.

“Then what is it?”

“He just- he really misses you. And I think more in just an ‘I miss my boyfriend’ kind of way.”

“In what way then?”

“I think it’s like a ‘I miss my best friend and my teammate and I miss playing with him and being by his side every day’ kind of way. I think it’s all just catching up to him now.” 

Will frowned, staying silent for a couple of minutes. Thoughts raced through his head, not stopping for a moment.

“I also don’t think it’s helped that we haven’t heard from you in a few days and he saw the media things you made with Mack. I’m not accusing you of anything Will, I know you’re busy, we know you’re busy with everything. We just miss you, s’all.”

She was met with more silence causing her to bite her lip nervously, redirecting her attention to the boy who still slept soundly against her, running her hands through his hair as a distraction. This proved to be a good distraction because her mind barely registered Will’s mumbled ‘I’ll see you soon’ before the end call tone echoed in her ears.

She froze, blinking at the wall in front of her. She pulled the phone away from her ear, trying to rack her brain to find out if she heard him correctly or not. Gabe shifted against her, mumbling something and blinking up at her, “What time s’it?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, bringing his hand up to her his eyes to rid the sleep from them, “I asked what time it was. You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. Had a weird thought, that's all. C’mon, I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep, okay?”

Gabe nodded, snuggling back into her and closing his eyes, falling back to sleep swiftly. Molly let her thoughts run around in her mind, tracing shapes on her boyfriend’s back in an effort to get herself to rest as well. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Will arrived in Boston at 4 in the morning, walking briskly through the airport towards the exit, looking between his phone and in front of him. He had always told himself to not make impulsive decisions, and until this moment, he was doing a pretty good job at following that. 

While he packed his bag, his brain screamed at him to put everything back and lay down in the hotel room bed and fall asleep, but his heart won over his brain this time, and he knew he had to get Boston sooner rather than later. He gave Mack a rushed explanation before running out of his room and down the steps of his hotel, catching the Uber he had called 20 minutes earlier.

The whole flight to Boston he was anxious, knee bouncing, hands shaking, he looked like a mess. Thankfully the flight was only an hour, an hour and he would have his boyfriend and his girlfriend in his arms again, reassuring them that he cared for them and missed them as much as they missed him. Maybe he would even finally say what he had been wanting to say for weeks now. 

His mind was so crowded, that he barely acknowledged the fact that the Uber he was now in had stopped just a few minutes away from his destination. He thanked the driver endlessly, making sure to tip him as much as he could before grabbing his bag and suitcase, and practically running down the sidewalks of his old campus. 

He cursed to himself as he came to a halt outside of his girlfriend’s dorm, knowing he wouldn’t be getting in unless someone was walking out of the building or someone was walking in. Thankfully, luck was on his side today as he saw a familiar face walking towards him. He had known him from a few classes he had with him, and someone that Molly had even talked to a few times before. 

He had no problems with letting Will in, talking with him as they walked up to Molly’s floor. Once they reached it, they said their goodbyes and Will headed down the wall, stopping in front of her door. He took a deep breath before knocking, bouncing on his heels as he waited for an answer.

Inside, Molly groaned at the noise, turning and shifting on her bed. In the middle of the night, Gabe and her had moved, so now Gabe’s arms were wrapped tightly around her, keeping her against his chest. She hoped that whoever was at her door would go away and simply buried her head back into the crook of Gabe’s neck, trying to go back to sleep.

Her efforts were short-lived when another knock rang through her dorm room, eliciting a louder groan from her. She peeled herself away from her boyfriend, slowly sliding off the bed and walking over to the door. The coldness of her dorm floor caused her to jump slightly, her tired mind stopping her from putting slippers on before. 

She didn’t bother to look through the peephole, yanking the door open and staring tiredly at the figure in front of her,  “What do you want?”

The laugh she heard immediately woke her up, snapping her eyes open and blinking rapidly, “Will?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She wasted no time hugging him, wrapping her arms around his waist, inhaling his scent, “I can’t believe you're here, what’re you doing here?”

“I came to see the two of you of course, why else would I be here?” He pulled away slightly, brushing her tangled hair out of her face and smiling down at her, “I missed you two so much.”

“Molls?”

The two turned towards the voice, watching as Gabe lazily sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Molly couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips at the sleepy expression on his face as he blinked his eyes open.

Gabe’s eyes opened slowly, looking around the room in search of his girlfriend. Hearing her laugh, his eyes fell on the open door and the two people standing by it. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, the second figure coming into view, “Will?”

“Hey, handsome. How’s it going?”’

“What the fuck are you doing here man? You’re supposed to be in New York.” Despite the annoyance and confusion in his tone, Gabe hopped off the bed and walked over to the two of them, bringing his boyfriend into a hug.

Will stumbled slightly at the force Gabe had used in his hug, but kept them upright nonetheless, hugging him back just as tight, “Had to see my loves didn’t I?”

Molly rolled her eyes at the nickname, a fond smile on her face as she stepped away to let them have a moment. 

Gabe and Will stayed in the hug for more than a few minutes, Will kicking the door closed with his foot as they stood there. They barely exchanged any words before they pulled away, Will leaving a kiss on Gabe’s shoulder.

They climbed into bed alongside Molly, Gabe staying in the middle of them. After a few minutes of silence, Gabe spoke up, “I didn’t mean to not call or text, I just- I’ve been really busy and stressed and everything. I promise I’ll do better, I never want you guys to feel like I don’t miss you, because I do. So so so much.”

Gabe nodded against his chest, mumbling a reply that the two of them barely caught. They just shrugged it off, placing kisses on his head and cuddling against him. The quiet atmosphere settled around them, aiding in the comfort the three were surrounded by. It felt nice, to be back together in bed and cuddling, it was their favorite thing to do. 

“I need to tell you something.”

Both Gabe and Molly’s heads looked towards Will, eyes shining with curiosity, “What is it?”

Will swallowed nervously, “It might be too early but I’ve been thinking about it for a couple weeks now and I just, I need to say it before I think too much about it and never say it-”

“Will!”

“Right, sorry. I um- I love you two.”

The two blinked at him, frozen as Molly’s grip on Will’s hand tightened. Will looked back at them, the anxious feeling creeping up on him. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he did just screw up everything and he had just gotten back to them. 

“I love you two too.”

Will smiled at his girlfriend’s soft voice, leaning over Gabe to kiss her gently. Gabe pouted, grumbling, “Hey, what about me?”

The two pulled away from each other, eyes moving to look at their boyfriend. His face lit up as their attention fell on him, “I love you two more.”

THE FILM EFFECT MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[ssunnysshin3]

Hummingbird(tmr Minho x reader)

Disclaimer: this is a version where both girls and boys live in the glades.It’s a lil bit lengthy sorry.

Authors note: I watched tmr for the first time 2 days ago and thought of this last night at 1am trying to fall asleep. Pls be nice it’s my first fanfic :)

Summary: you and your best friend Minho have a bit of a complicated relationship. However watching him get stuck in the maze overnight helps navigate your feelings

Tags: tmr Minho x reader, angst-ish, fluff

“Who’s that?” Thomas turns to Alby.

Alby turns towards the direction Thomas was previously looking. “Oh that’s hummingbird. She got here a month after Minho. They’ve been close ever sense. If you’re looking for one, the other knows where they are.

“Hummingbird? Is that her real name?”

Ably chuckles, ”No. No it’s not. Only me, Newt, and Minho know what it is. And she hates it so don’t ask.”

Thomas leaned his head to the side in confusion as he watched you talk to Minho, who he’d already met.“Are they together?”

Alby took a deep breath before turning his head towards the pair. Shaking his head he says “ Good question. I’m not even sure they know what they are yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You feel a hand on your shoulder gently shaking you as you open your eyes, the rising dawn slowly peeking through. You stretch and turn your head to Minho kneeling down to the side of your hammock.

“Hey” he says with a soft smile. The approaching sunlight casts a warm glow across his skin and in the light, his eyes are a beautiful amber color that only you would ever notice. It’s a nice contrast to the hard, worn look that normally resides on his face.

“Alby and I and headed into the maze. Are you sure you don’t want to run with us?” He says in a hushed tone so that the surrounding gladers don’t wake up.

Nodding you respond, ”Yeah I’m sure.” You reach up to move a hair sticking to his forehead away before resting your hand on his cheek. You look him in his eyes,“Run fast”.

He smiles, placing a kiss to your forehead before throwing a playful wink at you“I always do”.

A smile grows on your face as you watch him fade from your view, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of anxiety you get every time he enters the maze.

As you try to settle back into your hammock, you silently pray to, well you have no idea. It could be God or whoever sent you up in that box a three years ago, or truly to anyone that’s listening. “Please bring them back”

You close your eyes and attempt to catch whatever sleep you can before the glades awake for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s getting late. While you completed your list chores for the day, which consisted of: marking the trees that were to be cut, helping out in the garden, wrapping up wounds,etc, you always kept a conscious note of where the sun was in the sky. And it was telling you that Minho and Alby should’ve been back by now.

Now the sun was hidden behind grey clouds and the rain poured as the gladers restlessly waiting for their leaders to return.

“They should be back by now. What happens if they don’t make it?” Thomas asks nervously. “They’re gonna make it.” Newt says with a harden expression on his face.

Thomas stalks over “ And what happens if they don’t ?” You and Newt share a look. “They’re gonna make it” You respond, though you’re not sure if you’re saying it for Thomas or for yourself.

The rain had cleared and soon enough a crowd gathered around the entrance of the maze.

Thomas jumped around nervously, “Come on, can’t we send someone after them?”. “It’s against the rules. They either make it back or they don’t.” Gally responded from his seated position.

You’ve never been a huge fan of Gally, he’s bossy and stuck up. However you could respect his dedication to the rules, and nonetheless he was right. No one could go in to help them. You bit your bottom lip nervously before shaking your head, “We can’t risk losing someone else.”

The familiar gust of wind expelled from the maze as the walls started to close. Your heart rate picks up as you try not to let the panic set in.

“There!” Thomas points at two figures slowly approaching the group. “Wait something’s wrong.” Newt takes a step forward.

Your eyes widen when you realize that Minho looks to be carrying all of Albys weight. “COME ON MINHO YOU CAN DO THIS!!” Chuck yells into the closing maze. The crowd abrupt into cheers and words of encouragement.

“RUN MINHO RUN!! YOU GOT THIS!” You scream as you step in front of the group. Minho drops Alby and starts his attempt at dragging him towards the exit by his feet.

“MINHO YOU GOTTA LEAVE HIM!” Gally shouts. You look over to Newt who wears a devastated look, “He’s not gonna make it.” The realization that Minho could actually die in the maze starts to consume you. Your throat is sore from screaming “HES RIGHT MINHO YOU HAVE TO LEAVE HIM!”

Minho lets out a gut wrenching scream as the walls of the maze get closer and closer together. Suddenly, Thomas breaks out in a full sprint into the maze. Yells of “THOMAS!”, “STOP”, “NO” break from the crowd as all of you try to reach out and grab him. But it was too late.

When the doors of the maze finally close, there’s a silence that sweeps the glade. Some start to walk back to the village, some are frozen in their place, one of which is you.

Your eyes are wide in shock, trying to comprehend that you have to now cross three names off of the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Chuck waited in the same spots you were in. You waited from when the sun went down, all the way until you could see day break. I mean how could you sleep when closest friend had just lowered his survival rate by 90%.

All night Minho consumed your thoughts. The first time you guys met, him picking you as a runner, every look you guys shared. You closed your eyes and pictured every line of his face. His eyes, his smile, the color of his hair.

You tried to remember the sound of his voice. How he’d laugh when he joked around and your most recent conversations (including everything you wished you said). How he’d speak so gently to you, almost as if he was afraid that you’d break if he spoke to loud.

You’d put your hands to the air and try to feel his skin on yours. The warmth of his hugs.

You’re positive that you must look insane to the others, but that didn’t matter. This was your attempt at engraving Minho into your heart. It was a feeling that was familiar to you.

After what felt like an eternity, the maze opened. You straightened your back and forced yourself to stand as a couple of others came to see it they’d made it.

“I told you Chuck, they’re not coming back” Newt said in a disappointed tone. As you turn around to walk back into the village, you hear a voice from behind. “ No way”.

You see the rest turn to look behind them, so you do the same. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as you see three dark figures moving towards you. You thought that it was your imagination until you stumbled closer to the mouth of the maze.

The others helped Minho and Thomas lay an unconscious, probably dead Alby on the ground. They looked tired and like they had almost died, and you should’ve probably been thinking of ways to help Alby. But all you could do is stare in Minho in disbelief. Even when they were talking about how Thomas killed a griever, you stood there paralyzed. They had survived a night in the maze. No one had done that before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a meeting later that night, of course led by Gally about how Thomas should be punished for breaking the rules. You’d been quietly leaning against a wall, just observing.

Newt interrupts the arguing that was taking place. “Minho you were there with him,what do you think?” Everyone’s head turn to Minho(except yours),who had been also leaning quietly on a wall towards the back of the hut.

He goes on to defend Thomas “Look I don’t know if he’s brave or stupid but whatever it is, we need more of it. I say we make him a runner.” You could almost see the steam coming out of Gallys ears. It made you laugh a little bit.

“Hummingbird, what do you think?” Frypan asks. You hadn’t spoken a word since Thomas ran into the maze.You clear your throat a bit and shift your footing. You never really have anything to say for meetings like these, and you prefer it that way. It makes moments like these very rare. “I think that even Alby wouldn’t dare do something like face a griever much less kill it. A feat like that shouldn’t be ignored. And we can all agree that the kids fast. I think he’s right, Thomas should be a runner ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mind was going a mile a minute. You were worried about Alby, you hadn’t spoken to Minho yet, and a new girl popped up in the box.The only good thing was that whoever put her there also put in some kind of cure for Alby.

You’d had nightmares before about dying in the maze. Whether it was you or Newt or Chuck. At one point or another, you’ve dreamt of every glader in the village dying from the maze. Some came true and some didn’t. Through the ones you had of Minho were probably the most painful. So painful that when you woke up you would be biting back sobs, and tears would stream down your cheeks as you wished it was you in the maze instead of him.

It was all too much, so you decide to busy yourself with some chores. You grab a woven basket and decide to head into the forest to see what you can harvest from the trees.

You’re agile and quick, that what made you a good maze runner. It also makes you excellent for climbing trees. They call you hummingbird because the whole village can hear your song from the forest. It’s a comforting sound that lets them know you’re safe. There’s almost never a time where the glades doesn’t have a song in the air.

And you’re one of maybe four that have permission to do so. So when you hear a crunching of leaves approaching, you’re on high alert.

You maneuver in the tree to face the sound and find a certain maze runner walking your way. “Minho what are you doing out here? You can’t be here.”

“ Couldn’t hear a song from the village, wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Minho says leaning against the tree across from the one you’re in.

“ I’m fine now go back to the village it’s too dangerous for you out here.” You hoped he would take that answer and leave. But you should’ve known better than that.

“ If you’re fine then why no song?” He walks up to your tree and looks up at you.

Ignoring his question, turn your away from him and focus your attention back to the tree you were foraging from.

Minho runs and grab the basket at the base of the tree before you could drop the fruit in. “Hummer please talk to me. You haven’t said a word to me since I got back.”

Sighing deeply, ”Minho, please leave. You shouldn’t be out here.”

“ I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” You jump down from the tree and walk ahead of him towards the village.

Silence.

“I don’t want to fight with you” he picks up his pace to follow you.

Silence.

“ y/n please!”

You stop in your tracks. “ I told you not call me that.”

“It was the only way to get you to stop.” Minho drops the basket of fruit and walks around in front of you, but is disappointed to find you won’t look at him.

He steps forward and reaches to touch you but you back away hesitantly. You’re afraid that if you touch him, he’ll disappear into dust.

You turn around to pick up the fallen basket and it’s contents. You really did not want to talk about this right now.

“ Come on just tell me what’s bothering you I don’t underst-“

“I THOUGHT YOU DIED MINHO!” You turn on your heels and scream at him. Closing your eyes, you move to rest your forehead against the nearest tree.

“ But I- *sigh* hummer you know the risk of being a runner.

“ Yes I do except this was the first time you didn’t make it back.”

Minho takes careful steps towards you.“I did make it-“

“But you almost didn’t.” All you could think about was what if Thomas hadn’t run in the maze. They wouldn’t have just lost their fastest runner, you would’ve lost you best friend too.

You open your eyes and turn around, back leaning against the tree now face-to-face with Minho.

Looking at the ground,“ When the maze closed,” you swallow, “I thought my heart stopped.” you say barely above a whisper, trying to keep your words from getting caught in your throat.

Feeling his hand rest against your cheek, the thought crosses that if you could bottle up this warmth and keep it in your pocket you would. ”Look at me.”

You can’t. You don’t know why you just…..can’t.

“Please baby just look at me.” he says in a desperate voice.

Finally finding the strength, you lift your eyes to meet his. They were sad, like he would do anything just to find out what’s making you feel like this. A pang of guilt went through your chest.

But then, he smiles. When he smiles it makes you feel like nothing mattered other than the two of you. Like the world around you dissolved into thin air. Like everything was gonna be okay.

“Hey, there’s my beautiful girl.” With his other hand, he laces his fingers with yours. Minho brings your interlocked hands to his lips giving it a gentle kiss before placing it above his heart. “I’m right here. This is real, I’m right here.”

“Minho I lov-“

“I know” he rushes to fill the space between the two of you, softly connecting his lips to yours.

The air stilled around you. Of course you always hoped this would happen but now it’s actually happening.

As the space between you and Minho got smaller, you squeezed your hand that was holding his and noticed that instead of being just against his heart, it was against yours as well. You hoped this moment would last forever.

Both of you breathlessly pull apart from each other. “I love you y/n. I love you more than anything.” He says with a breathless smile.

You scrunch your nose and playfully push him away. “If you love me just be faster next time”

He picks up the harvest basket.”Of course! Can’t have you not talking to me again now can we?”

You walked back to the village, both knowing this was a new era of you and Minho. And you hummed your song all the way there.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic finder

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1. There is a fic that I don’t remember the name of but it was wangxian arranged marriage with heavy angst and unhappy WWX. I remember it had a line going “Being married to me is killing him” so if anyone knows it I will be forever grateful 🥰 @kanrax-blog

FOUND! Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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2. hello im looking for a fic where lotus pier is home to a bunch of eldritch horrors so our jiang trio have darker vibes. thank you so much for your help

FOUND? Monster in Human Skin Series by Nika_Raven_Celeste (T/M, 20k, WCZ/CSSR/JFM, NiecestXu, QHJ/WWX, WRH/WWX, Dark Jiāngs, dark au, grey morality, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Happy Murder Family, Dehumanization, Dark NHS, Dark NMJ, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-human characters, Morally Gray WWX, Gūsū Lán Elders Bashing, Dark Gūsū Lán Sect, Solitary Confinement, Touch-Starved, Gaslighting, Victim Blaming, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Mind Break, Mental Coercion, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Age Difference, no WangXian, Literal monster in human skin, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Imprisonment, Mind Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Incest, Stockholm Syndrome, Power Imbalance, Captivity, spoil of war, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Conditioning, Master/Pet, Fairytale elements, Eldritch) It's about JFM/WCZ/CSSR though

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3. i was hoping you could also help with finding a fic and since i don’t want to flood the inbox, i wanted to put my request here.

i’m looking for a fic/series where wei wuxian and lan wangji are both actors that work on a project together that involves them being intimate. the catch is that wwx thought lwj hated him and so there’s tension there. there’s also a continuation of when they’re happily together where wwx finds a shrine/treasure room dedicated to himself when visiting lwj’s house. it’s one of the first fics i ever read and it’s so deeply buried that I can’t seem to find the bookmark for it and was hoping for help. thank you in advance and i wish you all well.

FOUND! Feel My Love by Leffy (E, 5k, wangxian, modern, Actors, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, inappropriate use of light sticks), of Blooming into the Color of Love series. shout out to asker and their brain cooperating with the details of the fic cause it made it easy to find !

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4. I'd love some help finding a fic! it's a short-ish smut modern au, with gnc lwj who wears skirts and does makeup for football/soccer player wwx, but it's very much canon dynamics! i think wwx has some but not a lot of comphet in it, wwx is very amenable to getting railed by lwj after he learns that this is a thing that could happen. i really enjoyed the characterization

I know I've read 4 but I can't find it/remember what it's called argh. The Twin Jades were child stars and LQR taught them that they had to have other avenues so LXC is a philanthropist (??) And LWJ moonlights in fashion design. He overheard footballer!WWX admitting he would have sex with LWJ and with Mianmian (???)'s help he made it happen. I think the end is a fast forward years later still together/happy.

FOUND! wear me out by plonk (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fashion & Couture, Football | Soccer, Not!Fic)

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5. hi! trying my luck hunting down this fic which i sadly don't remember much of except for one scene. what i rmb is wwx seeing a comb that he wants to get for lwj in caiyi town, and not buying it the first time due to budget issues. when he eventually returns to the stall again, it turns out the seller kept it for him: wwx learns about this from the seller's husband, who is the one at the stall this time, and wwx is surprised to learn about the acceptance of cutsleeve relationships in gusu. thank you very much!!!

FOUND! 🔒 Unstoppable by Netrixie (T, 149k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wolf-shifter WWX, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Fix-It, Werewolf, Shapeshifters)

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6. Hello, I would like some help?? I’m looking for a fic but I completely forgot the name 🥲

it was a MDZS/TGCF crossover: Xie Lian joined the juniors on their nighthunt and Jingyi spends most of the time suspicious of him. At one point they all thought Xie Lian died but Lan Zichen appeared and performed cpr on him and he was fine. At the end WWX recognized him and called him grand uncle and tells the kids Xie Lian’s a god (and when they ask ‘why didn’t you say anything?’, Xie Lian’s only response was ‘you didn’t ask’)

That’s all I remember, I’m loosing my mind trying to look for it please help me 🥺🥺 I’m sorry if it’s a pain @cullen-blue23

FOUND! Lan Jingyi and the Adventure of the Immortal Cultivator by litbynosun (T, 5k, the junior quartet, TGCF/MDZS, Crossover, Just a Fun Little Romp, Minor Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence, Ghosts, postcanon, (for both books), Friendship, A Pack Of Teens Roaming The Countryside With Swords)

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7. Hello! Excuse me but could you please help me with the title of the Wangxian fic that's a Gawain and the Green Knight AU? Where Lan Wangji plays the role of Gawain and enters into a weird sex game with the Yiling Laozu and Wei Wuxian not knowing they're the same person until the duel? Please? @kaitou-cure-prism12

FOUND! rare the man who'll hold to faith by Fahye (M, 13k, wangxian, canon au, Identity Porn, With Apologies To The Chivalric Romantic Tradition)

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8. Fic finder request please! 🙂

Wangxian was in an arranged marriage au and WWX, in trying to get to know LWJ, hangs onto his arm or something and gets pushed into a pond (by accident fromLwJ), but WWX thinks it was on purpose and he decides to be just as rude back. I can’t remember anything else about it, but I think it had a happy ending and that LWJ had to grovel a bit. I swear I’ve read it a few months ago and can’t find it anywhere! 😭😭

FOUND! i won’t say i’m in love by kazzywx (E, 12k, wangxian, rape/non-con, A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Miscommunication, Angst with a Happy Ending, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, skippable NSFW scenes, wwx’s is basically meg from hercules with his “i wont say im in love” shtick, Hurt WWX, Boypussy, WWX Has a Vulva, Intersex WWX, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Mating Bites, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Mpreg, WWX & WQ Friendship, WWX & WN Friendship, Possessive LWJ, WIP)

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9. Hi, nice ppl! I'm looking for a fic (Modern AU). LWJ is a rich lonely businessman who finds erotic model WWX online (he doesn't do it for pleasure but to pay JC's medical treatment) & falls for him. No explicit sex, WWX just shows his body (only HALF of his face to keep anonymity) & sends private set of pix to clients after paying a lot of money. LWJ becomes the best client instantly, getting more pix & phone calls, which seems to be enough 4 him (he's in love). WWX doesn't trust him, he thinks he could be a psycho, so they didn't meet YET (the fic wasn't finished & now I cannot find it). One day, WWX is in a photo session w/erotic lingery in a building room near LWJ's office, who 'feels' smth but, as he gets to the place, it's already empty & the staff + WWX gone. He founds a piece of his costume & keeps it. Sorry I have no more to add, only that WWX really needs the money for JC's health & asks LWJ to make the payments to his own bank acc, not to the agency (perhaps that lil' info helps). LXC notices a positive change in his brother's mood but LWJ doesn't tell anything to him. TYSM!xo @einherjermineord

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10. Hello this is a long shot but my history and bookmarks crashed on AO3 and there was a fanfic I was reading it was about LZ meeting WY as children one of the two save the other from dogs, LZ gave WY his drum rattle, in a Yilin alley, it was cold and the thin clothed WY got a coat from LZ the author described the coat or cape as embroidery and elegant, then when the uncle and brother came to him, he turn and WY left with the drum rattle but not the coat/cape, years later they are married have children WY pulls out drum rattles and then the old one (which he used as design for the other ones) and is there where they realized are them in the childhood encounter ... I know it's a long shot but do you know what fic I am talking about? Oh and I think it has the tones of mpreg hence the children, but I can't remember much, if you could help me please and thank you

PS there is an author that used a similar encounter in "A Matter of Time" but that is not it I am so sorry to bother you about this, this author told me about you so here I am 😁

Sincerely @mysticalyunique

FOUND! As if you were on fire from within by jalpari (E, 30k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ/Fox WWX, Canon Universe, Getting Together, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Pregnant LWJ)

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11. Hello!! I'm looking for either one or 2 fics here. I might have read them at the same time and they blurred together, or it is the same fic. Anyway, one of them has mo xuanyu and nie huaisang working together and mxy is a fashion designer that insists on dressing wwx. And then the other has a scene where wwx is at some fancy party and escapes lwj through like a sky light. It's a cat-and-mouse fic where lwj is trying to capture wwx.

Thanks for your help and all the hard work yall do 🖤🖤🖤

FOUND! To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell (M, 124k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Huli Jing, strangers to co-parents to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Dragons, Kid Fic, teenage juniors, background NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

FOUND!🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex) #11b with the cat and mouse game sounds like kitzukanas "rule #1 don't get attached"

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12. Hello again. First off I'd like to thank you for all your hard work and help. This blog means alot to me.

I need help finding a fic. It's a modern au. WWX is a hacker. I forgot what LWJ does. It's not something he likes. He doesn't like his life/work. Doing it just for family. There was a part in the fic where LQR said/asked? If LWJ was happy and LWJ said no.

If you do find this fic, would you also recommend something in this similar theme? LWJ doing things for family and not being happy and LQR finds out and regrets his actions? @lailan-rosie

FOUND? Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

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13. Hi, Help me find this fic🙏

Lwj is in a hostage/courtesan/concubine situation and the ones who owns him are either wens or jins. Lxc is free and about, knows lwj's situation yet does nothing/can't do nothing because of sect politics.

WWX meets lwj, a stranger at lwj's institution/lodgings and is appalled at lxc for his inaction. Wwx fights/duels lxc saying hes a bad brother. @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

NOT FOUND! The Last Concubine by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 13k, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, LWJ Whump, Forced Marriage, Starvation, Non-physical spousal abuse, Fluff and Angst, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Happy Ending, WWX Takes Care of LWJ)

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14. Hi! I’m looking for a fic where rogue!wwx(?) meets LWJ who came down from the mountain just to collect books and bring knowledge back to the cloud recesses. It’s like a right of passage thing? They travel together a long time and then LWJ gets called home. I think he gives WWX a way to contact him even though he shouldn’t? And WWX ends up bringing the Wen remnants to CR.

FOUND? my rivers tilt towards you by perfectlyrose (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fairy Tale Elements, dragonji, mentions of, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, First Meetings, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort)

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15. hi ! this is for fic finder, i think i asked before but i don’t believe it was found: wangxian modern au, they reunite after a gap bc lan zhan gets into an accident (he’s fine, but it was going to be on the news because he’s a bit famous (i think it was as a tv baker) so lan xichen comes over to tell him). they get closer again and i think near the end it’s revealed that lan sizhui is lan yuan, a patient wei ying grew attached to that lan zhan adopted a few yrs after wei ying disappeared @willesnelson

FOUND? Lifelong Confidant by saved (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Angst, Past Character Death, Families of Choice, Explicit Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, playing fast and loose with basic real life things, references to past alcoholism/substance abuse, Alcohol)

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16. Hello! Hoping to find a fic where Meng Yao I think is the main character. Modern AU, the ensemble are nurses/doctors. Meng Yao is a nurse, but like the head or charge nurse - he points out you can tell bc he's wearing a particular color of scrubs (yellow?). The plot had to do with people actually protecting him for once and his father trying to pin his own mal practice (or possibly Jin Zixun's) on Meng Yao. But Nie Huisang manages to save the day by "stumbling across" records that proved it was Jin Guangshan/Zixun at fault.

Thanks so much for all your hard work mods! @somevariationofgay

FOUND! No Drug Like Me by Justkeeptrekkin (E, 32k, XiYao, Modern AU, Hospital, They're all doctors and nurses, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Fluff)

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17. hii, I hope you're doing well, I'm looking for fic whose description was smth like "yuan watches some man try take away his xian-gege" it isn't accurate, and I think it's a humorous fic from a-yuan's pov where lwj is around wwx and yuan is annoyed. Thank u for ur work!!! @mercurygirlwt28

FOUND! as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel (T, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Found Family, Food Issues, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, sizhui pov, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff) lmao I found it myself. thank you sm for ur time!!!!!

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18. Hi I’m looking for a fic where Wei Ying wears Gusu Lan robes and no one recognizes him?

I think (and don’t quote me lol) that it is after the temple scenes and he lives in Gusu land now. @kyuubikuroba

FOUND? Wei Wuxian is Definitely Not Possessed by CursedBlessing (T, 20k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Misunderstandings, Is it exorcism if there's nothing to exorcise?, General Dumbassery, Humor) maybe chapter 3 of this one? Some people recognize wwx but some don't

FOUND? How Odd by bedheadrat (M, 35k, WIP, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, BAMF WWX, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Rich LWJ, Genius WWX, Separation, Anxiety, Evil Plans, Touch-Starved, LWJ 's white robes kink, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Seduction, Misunderstandings, Not Cheating, Threats, Vandalism, Stealing, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon)

~*~

19. hello! i am looking for a fic, if you don’t mind helping me ☺️

i believe in the fic wwx and lwj used to know each other well (or were together? i cant remember), and wwx came back to lwj’s life with baby sizhui. the baby is also lwj’s i think? but lwj didnt know prior to wwx’s return. the fic is set in modern times, so lwj is a rich boss running a company and wants to provide wwx and baby sizhui everything they need. theres this one scene where lwj gets overwhelmed about the whole situation, so he starts making lists: schools for sizhui, putting wwx on lwj’s uber plan, etc etc.

i’ve been looking for this fic for a very long time but my hands still come up empty. thank you very much!

FOUND? Family Pictures (Or: “Mark Rothko is very, very dead, Wei Ying.”) by belleweather (M, 37k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Post Mpreg, Modern AU, Cindarella Story, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, art conservator lwj, idiot WWX, (he gets better slowly), shockingly little actual sex omg what happened to me, fake/mistaken cheating, no actual infidelity)

~*~

20. Hey, I'm losing my mind looking for this fic where wy fall in love with 3 different people he meets(like gamer id, chat id, irl id) but they're all lwj.

Any idea which fic this is? @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

#20 it's not duo with you.

Actually I'm currently reading duo with you and that's is when i remembered about the 3 identity fic i can't find.

Duo with you is very nice to read, thanks

NOT FOUND! The Best Gift by Lan_Wangjoe (E, 45k, wangxian, Modern, Mistaken Identity, Miscommunication, Fluff, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Dorks in Love, Nice LQR, Meet the Family, Nerdiness, Science Boyfriends, Science Experiments, Fake Science, Science Husbands, Geeks, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s), Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adopted Children, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Marriage, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Stupidity, Himbo LXC, Lan Himbos, Lán Family Feels, Making fun of the Lan's again, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Good Parents JFM & YZY, Genius WWX) Wwx is a "true genius" that was obsessed with books written by lqr. He's fav character is hgj, online frenemy is lwj, and irl genius rival is lz

NOT FOUND! Duo With You by Nyatci (T, 48k, wangxian, JFM/YZY, JYL/JZX, modern, College/University, , Gamers WàngXiànCasual Gaming, enemies to lovers (sorta), Secret Identity vibes, they play league of legends, Kinda Crack but treated very seriously, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Comedy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Abusive Jiāng Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Ga(y)mers WangXian, now with fanart, WIP)

~*~

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 44

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/156122218

He opened his eyes and was momentarily bewildered by the chandelier his eyes landed on. Then, a split second later, it came to him: they were at the hotel. His head instinctively turned to the window - it was still dark but the quietness told him this was the winter morning dark of Sunday and not the late night dark of Saturday. His hand reached out and his fingertips touched her skin.

The bed was so massive that they had rolled apart from one another at some point and she was huddled away from him under the covers. Savigne’s deep breathing indicated she was fast asleep, dead to the world. He grinned in the dark, unabashedly proud for being the reason for that. He carefully shifted to lie closer and faintly palmed her belly. No kicking yesterday and no kicking today. What did the silence mean? Had he been too wild, too overzealous? But if something had happened, they would know, right? At the very least there would be pain? Fucking idiot, read a book, he told himself again.

After that he was unable to fall back asleep and lied there for a long time, his mind awash with idiotic happiness. Last week this day he was lying in a hammock in Guarma, distantly listening to the quiet murmur around the campfire and looking up at the stars, worrying about things a thousand miles away he didn’t know and couldn’t change. Wondering if she was fine, if she was well, where she was and how she was and if he would ever see her again. The boat was due to arrive the next day, and he had felt restless and twitchy, desperately trying to will the time to pass faster. 

A week later here he was, waking up next to her again. His wife. The jolt that notion injected through his spine took his breath away and he sat up, unable to contain the movement. 

He carefully crawled off the bed and parted the curtains on a window. The faint hue of dawn was coloring the sky now. He shut the bathroom door so he can turn on the light and not wake her, checked his pocket watch for the time and then went around to collect his clothes and get dressed. Then he turned the light off again, stepped into the main room, put on his coat, slung his satchel over a shoulder, took his gun belt to tie on outside and exited. He walked away, then returned and locked the door. Wasn’t ideal to lock her in, but leaving the door unlocked on her seemed unwise.

He passed by the night shift receptionist snoring at his desk. The winter air immediately bit his face and he pulled up the collars of his coat and adjusted the gloves on his hands before he set a brisk walk towards the Jewish quarter.

Another early Sunday morning in the city, and this time his mood was even better than the last one. He thought of the year he had - full of happiness and high points but also full of loss and grief. He was still mourning the death of Sean, Hosea and Lenny. But he was also mourning the loss of Dutch and the loss of the gang, steadfast presences in his life for as long as he could remember. The disappearance of that purpose, once so indomitable and unquestionable, filled him with vertigo. For all his adult life it had been the thing that made him him, and now it stood like an empty glass, drunk up and left dry. What was he, really, without the gang, without the outlaw life?

Gonna be fine, he told himself. You will be a husband and a father. And your own man. That other thing - it’s done. Dead. Even if you stay, all is frayed and used up, nothing can be restored. Let it go. This here is what you want.

All true words. But for years to come, he knew he would still be mired in self-doubt and uncertainty. Might be that was Savigne rubbing off on him. He used to be a simpler man. On. Off. In it. Out of it. Now he was getting all sentimental like she was and running circles in his head. “Philosophizing under the stars” as Hosea used to say. He wanted this new thing with all the thunder in his old heart. But he was also afraid to let go of the other; afraid that when he did, he couldn’t find the man he was again and then who would he be? Without the grinding stone that this life was, would Arthur Morgan lose his sharpness and go blunt? Would he become weaker? Softer? Would he devolve into one of them drunks passing out at a bar early afternoon, bored and dissatisfied with his life?

He pulled the door to the small hole in the wall store open. There was a turning of necks by the diners crammed around some rickety tables that stuffed the opposite end of the humble room. The smell of coffee and tea and toasted warm bread and pickles and fish washed over him. In front of him, a simple counter neatly bedecked with pots and pans with different ingredients. Behind it, a door that probably led to a downstairs kitchen. Ropes of baygals were hung on the wall behind the counter and in front of them, a young boy of maybe fourteen. 

He gave his order of two baygals, but the lips bowed when he said extra onions.

“We don’t do that.”

“Did, last time I was here.”

“You must have been somewhere else, we don’t do that.” 

Arthur gave the kid a look and chewed his cheek. Cunning, smart eyes. Surly and defiant, as if here he was the boss and he wasn’t going to be challenged by a guy three times his size. He sure hoped his elated mood wasn’t about to get soured by one smartass kid first thing in the morning.

“Son,” he started, calmer, “I ain’t so old, ‘m feeble. Was here. Was given exactly what ‘m orderin’ now.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, you’re wrong mister,” was the coy nasal response as those wiry arms crossed on the bony chest. He puffed the dark curly locks that were falling into his face off his forehead with the same confidence and insolence Arthur himself used to have at that age.

Arthur's head turned to the right and met those of the conglomeration of people who were sitting in their work overalls, silently chewing their breakfast.

“Is it the money?” was his patient exhale. “Ya askin’ me to pay more? Cause if that it, make the damn things and I’ll pay.”

“It’s not the money,” the nose turned up. “It ruins the taste.”

“Look here kid, good luck on yer career as food critic,” was Arthur’s dry response. “But make me the baygals way I wan’em and I’ll be on my way.”

The wiry arms tightened and the patrons in the shop babbled something in Jewish to the kid who spat a string of stuff back. Arthur waited through the back and forth, his patience wearing thin. In his experience, days that started off wrong had a way of staying so, and he sure hoped that wasn’t going to be the case today.

The rising voices summoned the older man Arthur recognized from his previous visit from the kitchen and the heated banter puttered out. The man threw a suspicious glance at the kid who was a spitting image of himself and the thin arms loosened a little, then he turned to Arthur.

“How can I help, sir?”

“Yer kid tellin’ me ya don’ do extra onions no more. Well you gonna make an exception for my wife,” he growled. “Cause that how she like ‘em.”

The man wiped his hands on a towel, did a nod and gave his son a look that drained the color off the sullen teenager’s face. “Do as you’re told,” was his soft ask. The kid harrumphed and pulled two baygals in front of him. “No,” his father said quietly. “Get fresh beigels from the kitchen.”

The kid objected in Jewish and his father slowly raised a hand which cut off the stream of babbling. “It’s impolite to speak a language in front of someone who doesn’t understand it.”

The kid’s jaw muscles worked. 

“Go get the beigels,” his father said calmly and the kid tore out of there with a huff and stomped down the stairs.

The owner turned to Arthur. “I apologize. I assure you, it’s not you personally he’s angry with, but the whole world.”

Arthur grunted his acceptance. He remembered what that age was like. 

“He’s going through a phase,” was the father's tired assessment.

“Which one he at?”

“The one where he thinks he knows everything better than his father,” the man offered with a bent smile.

Arthur chuckled at that and so did the other patrons.

“It’s not a phase, cause you’re still there yourself aren’t you, Josef?” an older man yelled from the back and the clientele snickered louder.

“That there is my father,” the man said apologetically. "He likes to sit there and...'keep an eye on me'." He pointed to the gray in his hair to imply the silliness of the notion.

Arthur grinned wider. The kid returned, was immediately annoyed at the joviality in the room and set to slicing the baygals. “Who eats extra onions?” he muttered darkly.

“This gentleman’s wife,” his father said with dark warning. Then he turned to Arthur and just to make polite conversation, asked “What phase are yours going through?”

“Ain’t born yet,” was Arthur admitted. “Soon, I hope.”

“Your wife is with child!” the man exclaimed and the shop broke out in mazel tovs and congratulations. Arthur nodded in acceptance and felt an odd mixture of pride and shyness. The boy colored and added the ingredients without looking at him, but his movements softened. 

“Well she has good taste,” the shop owner grinned. “Anything for you?”

The cowboy palmed his beard and thought of a polite way to say that he didn’t enjoy this food. “I ain’t much of a fish guy.”

“I see,” was the smiling response. “Allow me to make you something different. Free of charge. For the new father.”

A clatter of suggestions erupted from the clients, all in English to remain polite. The owner held up a slow hand and Arthur realized that this gesture was his thing. The room fell quiet. “I’m the owner here and I know what I’m doing,” he said calmly. “And since you’re all sitting here, you clearly agree.”

“Get a load of this guy,” someone lobed in. “We’re just here because it’s the only beigel shop in town, you fool!” The men laughed and clinked their tea mugs.

“Ignore them,” the man said with his soothing voice. “He who throws dirt always loses ground. I will make you a pastrami bagel with mustard.”

A short discussion between the diners, and then a collective approval that this was the correct choice.

Arthur nodded politely to say he accepted. He didn’t know what pastrami was and had low hopes for it to be to his liking, but if a man offered you something, you took it (even if you were going to feed it to the next starving dog).

The baygals were placed in a paper bag, he paid and was about to leave when he paused at the door and turned back around. He shifted on his feet, unsure as the shop owner watched him with hooded eyes. Everyone else fell silent and there was an uptick of tension as if they expected him to start a confrontation. Eyes flitted to obvious bulk of the guns on his hips under his coat. These were a suspicious people, he decided, stingy with their trust and wary of outsiders.

“I…uh…” he swallowed. He would describe himself as a confident man, but sometimes his confidence just drained out when he most needed it. “I have a question.”

“How can we help, sir?” was the cool response. The silence in the shop swirled thick and deep.

“Was told the baby kickin’ a good thing,” flew out of his mouth to his own amazement.

A moment of confused silence followed before the owner offered a courteous “Yes?”

He felt compelled to turn around and leave before he made a fool of himself, but then thought that train had just left. So he rounded his shoulders and barged on: “So when it ain’t kickin’…that mean it’s bad?”

“No,” was the gentle smile. “They don’t kick all the time.”

“Don’t listen to him, he only has seven children!” the father shouted from the back and chortles erupted. 

The owner ignored the room and said “It’s fine either way” to Arthur. “The real kicking happens when they’re grown,” was the addition as his eyes slanted to his son.

A sea of agreement and encouragement from the spectators. “It’s fine” and “very normal”, and then “my cousin said his didn’t kick at all!” to which the counter was “your cousin didn’t even meet his child before she was two”, another clanking of cups and wave of laughter.

He nodded his thanks and walked out with more congratulations chanted after him.

As he walked back, he ruminated on the challenges of fatherhood and raising a child right and how he had no idea how to do it. Well…he knew what NOT to do, so there was that. All he had to do was not be like his own father, which should be easy enough. But how do you make a child kind and good and strong? How do you make it choose well? How do you give it a good compass and a smart head? Maybe, he thought, they come as they are and all you can do is hope you’re lucky.

He ruminated on these things and found himself in front of the hotel. When he entered, the receptionist had changed back to the man from the previous evening.

“Mister Kilgore…”

He knew what was coming so he cut it off with a curt “I want coffee for my suite.”  

This threw the receptionist off, but only for a moment.

“Of course. Was the room to your liking?”

“Was fine,” he waved his arm. These fools were used to being treated with the contempt of rich folks, and in that language he was versed well enough. He leaned over the reception desk. “But the next fool who comes knockin’, askin’ to enter is gonna eat lead.”

A flurry of blinking as if this was the most savage thing the man had ever heard, then another swift recovery and a firm nod. “We only meant to check on your comfort.”

“I understand some fools were clutchin’ pearls last night but that ain’t my concern. I booked that suite so I can do whatever I want. Yer precious bed is fine.” The man gave him a highly doubtful look but kept his silence. “Ya want me to recommend this hotel to my friends in New York, you gonna have to do better.”

“I hear you,” was the polite response. "I will send up a cart immediately. On us.”

Arthur released a patronizing huff, tilted his head as if to say 'that’s a good start' and walked up the stairs.

Savigne jerked awake with a gasp when a cold palm bloomed on her back and scurried away from it. “Jesus, why are you so cold?!”

“Went out to get breakfast.”

“Not this shit again…” was the dark mutter from under the covers.

“Guess I gotta eat them baygals myself then,” he hummed. She shot up and emerged hair mussed, face flushed. “Lox and extra onions,” he added, then laughed a little at the speed she scrambled off the bed.

She ran into the bathroom and quickly threw on her bloomers and her chemise. As she walked back, his eyes crawled over her, lingering on her bust and the swing of her hips. You would think after the night they had his hunger would be sated, but releasing those floodgates had only served to whet his appetite. 

“Would you like to see the cabin?” she asked as she pulled her chair closer.

“Sure,” was his drawl.

“We could-”

The knock startled her like a deer and she half rose from her seat. He motioned her to sit back down. When he opened the door, there was a cart waiting and he wheeled it in and unveiled the fancy breakfast and the steaming coffee, and on the lower shelf, warm fresh towels.

Savigne waved a no at his questioning face. “Beigels! Now!”

He chuckled and placed her baygals on her plate and before he could pour coffee for her, she was frantically chewing on one and moaning with delight. “Dear god, how is it this good?!”

He was pleased at her reaction and sat down to join her. He took a hesitant bite out of his own baygal, grunted a surprised approval and devoured the rest of it, then started to work on the breakfast that was sent up. 

"When this cabin gonna be ready?" he asked around his food.

"Should be just odds and bits left by now," she sighed, sipping her coffee. "We'll see. Did you like the hotel?"

She snorted at his "Place full of prudes" answer. "Tell ya what, I like the tub. How much a tub like that cost, you think?"

She chuckled. "A lot is my guess."

"Worth it."

"Without the plumbing you'd have to fill it by hand and that would be way too much work."

"I'd fill the damn thing every day," he grinned. 

Eventually they put on the daily clothes they had brought with them, folded the nice ones into the bag, then Arthur took the bag and went to the table and emptied the fruit basket in it, gave it a thought, and stuffed the basket itself in there, too.

"What are you doing?" she watched with amazement. 

"Takin' stuff that we been given?"

He swiped the champagne bottle, then walked into the bathroom and threw in all the soap and the scent bottles, too. 

"Oh my god," she moaned and rolled her eyes. 

"What?" he said defensively, "You think them rich folk don' take everythin' that ain't bolted down?”

She tsked and went to the door and when her back was turned he hastily stuffed in the clean towels in the cart because they were soft and plush, and also because fuck this hotel.

His jovial mood shifted when they arrived at the cabin. 

"The hell is this?" he narrowed his eyes with disapproval. 

"What?" she said defensively. "It's twenty minutes to Saint Denis. And only a rental."

He jumped down and to his astonishment, today she waited for him to come around to help her down. 

She unlocked the door and he strode in, hands on his gun belt, face scowling with displeasure. She walked about, seemingly happy with the new floors, telling him how much drier and warmer it felt in here now.

"What do you think?" she bit her lip after she did her cursory checking.

"'M thinkin' I gotta slap some sense into Marston when we get back."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!" He gave her a look. "Are you the same man who lived in an outlaw camp and slept on a cot or what?"

He scoffed as he strolled around. "Cot was ages ago," he smirked. 

"Months," she corrected with a grin. "It's only until Spring."

He hummed, biting his cheeks. "'M pickin' the next one, tell ya that."

Savigne gave him a narrow eyed look. "Twenty minutes to Saint Denis. And it has a huge lot."

He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossed his arms and shrugged a ‘so?’.

A change came over her face. She tilted her head as she slowly sauntered over. "It's private," she said demurely, eyes flicking up at him. “Nobody can bother us.”

His eyebrows rose.

"I can prove it you…” she smiled, coy fingers playing with his belt buckle. “But...fair warning: you might change your mind about the cabin…”

He hardened immediately with the fervor of a teenage boy and she smiled, tracing the shape of his cock straining against his trousers.

He loosely gripped the counter lip behind him and responded with a cocky “Doubt that.”

His heart lurched at the look she gave him from under her brows. A moment later she was unbuttoning his pants and he squared his feet as she sank to her knees in front of him.

His grip on the counter tightened as she ran her tongue from his base to the tip, teased the head, then without further teasing, promptly took him into her mouth. A groan fell from his lips and his other hand fisted her hair as he watched his shaft rhythmically disappear between her wide lips into that warm cave. Fire ignited in the base of his spine. The cabin was cold and his wet skin prickled with the seesawing of heat and cold as she swallowed him, released him, then swallowed him deeper. He whispered a cascade of encouragements as he tried to control the urge to violate that delectable mouth.

His eyes glazed as she wrapped her fingers more firmly around the base and eased her lips up and down his hardened flesh. Then she started a gentle suck and a whimper fell from his slack mouth. A helpless twitching of his hips. The familiar pressure started to swell in his gut. His thighs tightened and his heart broke into a gallop in his chest. The only sound in here was a quiet creaking of wood and the sigh of leather and his heavy panting as he hardened further under her assault. His eyes turned to the window, to the patch of dull, overcast sky and the green of pines as he gently rocked on his heels with her ministrations. He felt himself unraveling under her quick tongue and trembled with pleasure, defenseless and dizzy. A flutter of a thought that she was getting entirely too good at this and that he was the luckiest bastard who had ever lived.

Cool hands ran up the back of his thighs as her head began to bob forward and back faster, her tongue teasing the bottom of his shaft. The heat in his gut intensified and churned, looking for an exit. His fingers coiled in her locks and he released a tortured groan, hunching a little. Then she hollowed her cheeks and everything vanished from his head - if someone asked for his name this moment, he wasn’t sure he couldn’t come up with it. His breathing became harsher, faster. The muscles in his thighs tensed. His hips gave a few clumsy jerks against her as the desire to embed himself into that slick, dark, tight space became overwhelming. She hummed around him and the vibration tore a desperate keen from him as he spiraled towards release, helplessly bucking into her mouth, all worries of choking her forgotten. Suddenly she took him to the hilt and swallowed. He felt her throat work around him and froze rigid, unable to move as the built up pressure burst like champagne from under a pulled cork and pure, sweet flame gushed through his cock.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he swam in a sea of light as she milked him until he softened in her mouth.

He leaned panting against the counter as she gently tucked him in and buttoned him back up.

“What do you think about the cabin?” was her sly whisper as she buckled his belt.

“Fuckin' love it.”

She laughed like a bird and kissed his flushed cheek.

After Arthur helped her back up the cart and turned to the Bayou she babbled rapidly about how to furnish the cabin, repeatedly bouncing between reminding herself out loud that it was only temporary and yet another bout of new of ideas. She huddled closer and wove an arm through his and prattled about how weird it will be to live away from people. 

“I’ve always been around a sea of people,” she ruminated. “The gang is the least number of people I’ve been around and now it’ll be just two, can you believe it?! Well there’s John’s family nearby but that’s just five. Five! So few! I’m so curious what that’s going to be like. What do you think it’s going to be like?”

He sluggishly scratched his beard. “I’d say ‘quiet’, but ‘m thinkin’ there gonna be some chirpin’,” he grinned at her, amused by her happiness. Despite his reservations about the cabin, her enthusiasm was infectious and once again his mind turned to the prospect of waking up in the same bed, looking out the same window, clothes hanging in closets. Simple things most people took for granted, but for a nomad like him, fascinating, mesmerizing. The stability of it all. The firmness under his feet. His heart felt at peace, his stomach full, his lust slackened. It was a tranquil, sated happiness that he could get used to. 

“I’m having the best weekend of my life,” she sighed.

He chuckled at that and gave her a warm look, elbows on knees, rocking with the cart.

“Hey!” came from behind them. He turned as John and Abigail caught up. Jack, who was sitting in front of John in the saddle waved at them with excitement.

“Where are you guys coming from?” Savigne asked.

“Went camping overnight,” John grunted. “Got sick of the Bayou.”

The horses flanked the cart as it took the bend to the camp.

Together they rode into mayhem.

Arthur pulled the reins and the horses stilled. For a moment they sat there watching people run around, talking and yelling. Then he climbed down, absentmindedly held out his hand and she took it to do the same.

Multiple people noticed their arrival and the reaction was immediate: everyone rushed up to them like metal pulled by a magnet, talking and yelling and crying at the same time. A boulder of fear sank into his gut. Had the Pinkertons found them? Was someone dead? 

His arms rose and he bellowed “Calm down!”

When he could hear the buzz of insects again his eyes shifted around the group and he found Grimshaw as the highest authority there, so he locked on to her.

“What happened?”

“Dutch is gone.” She strained to get the words out, heavy disbelief in her voice. “And so is the money.”

The same disbelief jumped into Arthur’s heart.

“Bill and Javier are gone, too,” Mary Beth added breathlessly. The group huddled closer, surrounding them. He felt Savigne clutch at the hem of his coat like a child.

“You sure?” was his stupid question. Stupid because his gut never lied and his gut said it was true.

Grimshaw took a shudder of a breath and nodded firmly.

“How can he do this?” someone marveled.

“Has to be a misunderstanding,” said someone else.

“Maybe they’re just scouting out our next location?” rang Pearson’s voice.

“Fools!” snorted Karen bitterly. “They slunk out in the middle of night like thieves. “There ain’t no misunderstanding.”

Arthur’s head swiveled around. “Where’s Sadie? Charles?”

“Sadie and Charles rode out yesterday after you to talk to some Wapiti guy. Said they will return in a few days,” was Grimshaw’s answer.

“What are we going to do?” Tilly’s voice shook. 

Then a babble of “I don’t understand”s, “impossible”s, “we’re missing something”s, “we should have”s, “could have”s.

Arthur held up a hand again, still trying to process what looked like the inconceivable. He realized too late that he should have been more cunning and not allow all four of them to stray away from camp. 

John came to the same conclusion almost at the same time: “That was stupid, all of us leavin.” He gave Arthur an apologetic look.

Although deep down he agreed, he dismissed the other man’s guilt. “How was we gonna know they was gonna do this?”

His face hardened and he stepped towards the hut. People parted like tall grass and he strode over as the rest of them scrambled after him like ducklings.

The door banged open and he approached Dutch’s bed, stood there with an audience looking at it, under it. Of course the money wasn’t there. Nor were his personal possessions or his guns. And yet they still looked with him and ducked with him as if there was a crevice it could have slid into by mistake. Savigne stood a little off, seemingly the only one who wasn’t stunned, observing them. All faces except hers, probably his own included were slackened and twisted with the effort to come to terms with a calamitous shattering of faith. 

He stopped and stood there a long time, hands working, head tilted down, hat hiding his expression. They waited, buzzing with impatience.

“Why would he do this?” was the hushed whisper.

Arthur’s jaw worked. “Punishment,” was his late response.

“For what?” Tilly murmured.

He met her eyes. “Betrayal.”

An explosion of objections. He didn’t respond and it died out by itself in a few minutes.

“What was yer decision?” was his low question he already knew the answer to.

“We were…” Strauss cleared his throat. “We decided to leave.”

A  shuffling of feet. 

“But he said we are free to decide!” was Pearson’s protest.

A huff by Arthur as he turned and sat on Dutch’s cot, took a deep breath, ran a palm over his beard and looked up at them. “Reckon he didn’ like the answer.”

His eyes crawled over the wrinkled sheets, the random objects left behind. How am I this stupid? He thought and locked eyes with Savigne’s sad, dark gaze. How did I think this was gonna go when we all walked away from him? Did I think he was gonna shake our hands and press money into it? That he was gonna clasp my shoulder one last time and wish me luck? Truthfully, a part of him had. Or at least had hoped that’s how it would go. After all, how many times had he listened to Dutch’s sullen droning of “nobody is keeping you here”s and “you can leave if you like”s?

That massive blind spot behind his left shoulder. A blurred, watery area his eyes refused to see clearly. The Micahs and Fussars and Brontes and Eccos of this world always so crisp and sharp to him, but that blind spot…fuzzy and blotchy. Maybe because those men had never wiped his brow when he was sick. Tucked his shirt in or ruffled his hair. Had never praised his good work and defended his bad choices. Maybe because they had never clasped his shoulder and told him he was more than a son to them. 

'There is no honor among thieves' the saying went. And ultimately what were they all but thieves? 

A long, thick silence as people turned this over in their heads. The gang faltered at the notion just like children whose parents had walked out and left forever.

“What do we do?” Mary Beth inhaled at last.

All the money he had earned over the span of decades. The things he had justified to earn that money! The violence, the cruelty, the harshness, the bullets shot and the punches thrown…His name sullied, posters with his face hung around towns. His body ruined, riddled with injuries and wounds. The years of sleeping in the dirt, in the mud, in the rain, in the cold, always running and hiding.

His jaw clenched and he rose from the bed. The group shifted on their feet and offered him an opening. He stomped through it and headed to their tent like a bullet as Savigne, John and Abigail scrambled to catch up.

They yelled his name but he barely heard it. There was a fire in his head, burning everything to cinders. All he could think was that they had robbed his child. Robbed it from the only thing Arthur Morgan could give it: the chance for a legitimate life. He wanted to wrap his hands around a throat and press until bones creaked under his fingers. Until a heart exploded in a chest. Until blood gushed down a nose.

He shot through the flap and they followed. 

“Please, talk to me!” Savigne begged. He turned to her, eyes blazing as his hands tore open a crate and fumbled through it. A storm swooshed in his ears, tornadoes churned behind his eyes.

“Gonna go after them.” His voice sounded muffled and distant to his own ears. His eyes shifted to John. “Ready the horses.”

“W-what?!” She stepped to block off John. “Why? That’s exactly what they want.”

Arthur dug out his rifle and slammed it on the table. “They took my money,” he growled. “All our money. We have fucking nothing!”

“But…”

“THAT WAS MY CHILD’S MONEY!” he roared and both women jumped. That reaction sobered him a little and he stilled and looked away for a long moment, chuffing like a beast trying to wrestle back his fury. “Was all the money I made. Ever,” he growled. “My whole life. All I have to show for everythin' I done.”

He hated how her lips wobbled and her eyes misted as if he was a white hot furnace and she struggled to stand in his heat. It froze him to see it and he stilled, one hand stuck in the crate, his chest bellowing with his heavy breathing as he desperately tried to calm the wild horse bucking under him. Don’t fall off, he told himself over and over. Don’t fall off, you’ll never get back up again.

“Not all,” she croaked. He met her eyes and she hesitated but pushed on: “Only half. Right?”

A dark huff as he watched her like a wolf backed into a corner, slinking restlessly. Dangerous. Bristling. Desperate to run. Ears flattening with indecision if he should tear his way out with claws and teeth or if he should accept that approaching touch.

Her trembling hands rose in placation. “You give only half to the camp, right?”

“That my child's money!" was the low snarl. He broke eye contact and resumed digging out his shotgun. “And everyone else’s, too! Marston! Horses!” he boomed and John scrambled out of the tent and Abigail trailed after him.

“Is it worth the grub’s life?” Savigne said evenly. There was a sharpness in her tone that suddenly made him wary. His nostrils flared like he meant to smell her mood.

“Your fucking money,” she continued, the volume building as her hands curled into fists. “The gang’s money - Tilly’s, Mary Beth's, Pearson's…would you gamble that against the grub’s life?”

His face soured and he looked at her with disgust for suggesting it. “The hell ya sayin’?” was his dark whisper.

“Do you know,” she trembled with quiet ire, “what I went through last time you left for money and didn’t return? Do you know how much laudanum I drank to hold on? I sat there...” her arm shot out in the gang’s direction, “...for weeks, unable to work! To live. I still don’t know how I made it through that! And now you want to do it again?!”

His heart purpled but his ire was too strong. “‘M gonna be fine. I will come back,” he said dismissively and loaded the empty slots on his bandolier.

“That’s vanity talking.” He stilled at that, blinking with surprise. “You don’t know. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. I’m asking: are you ready to gamble the grub’s life and maybe mine on that?”

His fingers fumbled and he dropped a shell, picked it up, then stood there, inspecting it in his hand, momentarily lost in thought.

Vanity.

She stepped closer still, clearly intimidated by his anger but perhaps more afraid of where it would lead.

He noticed the beads of sweat on her brow and the pallor of her face. His indecision deepened. The red shotgun shell slalomed between his fingers, back and forth and back and forth.

The dark slanted eyes looked up at him with a quiet heat that matched his own. “If you leave,” she panted. “Money or no money, when you return, I won’t be here.” She ignored his flinch. “I promise you, I’ll have someone else’s ring and someone else’s name.” He balked at this but her hand rose to stifle his objection. “You promised. You keep your promise or you stay away. You can’t keep putting us through this.”

He scoffed and looked away, hurt and angry and outraged by the violence of her words. But also torn. A little abashed. Conflicted. Her hand landed on his, the shotgun shell pressed between their palms. He ground his teeth, seething.

“Savigne,” he mumbled, flailing to make her understand the enormous sacrifice she was asking of him. Years of his life, wasted. Wasted on a man, on a dream. That money was supposed to be the seed of the good things that would germinate from the soil of misery. Without seeds it was all for nothing. Was all misery. “Was…all…I had,” he muttered, feeling short of breath.

“Not all,” was her quiet reminder. She slowly rose up on her toes, coiled her arms around his neck and tugged him down. Somehow he allowed it, followed it and leaned into her neck. The shell slipped from his fingers and clattered on the wood palettes when he embraced her back, timid at first, then firmer. He breathed the lavender in her hair and shifted on his feet and leaned closer. They stayed like that for a long time as his heart hammered in his chest and his breath stuttered. Her small hands glided over his back like she was ironing out the cracks and creases in his body. Like she was putting him back together, mending him. The twisters in his head swirled away and his mind settled. Things in there left strewn about, upended, displaced but at least calm, stable. She shivered in his arms and hung from his shoulders like the day he had saved her from the O’Driscolls and he pulled her closer still, careful not to hurt.

Who really had saved who that day anyway?

"It's fine," she sighed into his ear.

How to explain to her what this meant? How small and emasculated he felt now that he was stripped of his only worth?

“I got nothin’. ‘M fuckin’ broke,” was his bitter huff.

She pulled back and gave him a stern look. “You have the money in your satchel. And I have mine. We’ll put it together and we’ll figure it out.”

An obvious sham. Savigne was always high strung and worried about money, always handled it with the frugality and fear of someone who never wanted to return to the lack of it. But her clumsy effort to mask this, to put on a brave face so she can soothe his humiliation simmered his heart.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, shamed anyway. 

She fumbled with her satchel and tore out a neat stack of bills. Then she opened his, ignored his objections and stuffed it in. Her hands trembled as if she was giving away her own lifeline but she set her jaw and pushed through the motion before she latched the flap close.

“You said you would handle the money. There. Your job now.”

“I just lost thousands of dollars,” he scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And yer givin’ me more?”

“Well now you can’t go after them and lose that too,” she chewed her lips. “Because then we’re both - no, all three of us - screwed.”

He chuckled, took a deep breath and straightened to look around the tent, head a bit clearer, that thumping behind his eyes diminished. 

“The others...they expect me to…" he trailed.

Her small hand snaked into his. “We'll convince them that you can’t.”

He didn’t like disappointing his friends. But this was one of those rare moments where his selfishness served him well. Because as he absentmindedly brushed his thumb over her fingers, he found that he liked the idea of another man’s ring on her less than the sting of that disappointment. Much, much less. He nodded reluctantly.

They walked out the tent towards the hut, but before they got there, Molly stumbled out from between the trees and wobbled in the middle of camp.

“Miss O’Shea,” Arthur sighed at her. “Thought maybe ya went with. ‘M sorry that-”

“Oh no!” she waved an exaggerated arc at him. “Don’t be sorry. ‘M gonna have the last laugh here!” As if to prove it, she crowed like a rooster. 

Heads turned and conversations stopped. “That sonobitch isn’ winning! Gonna make sure of that!” she slurred.

“Yer drunk, sit down!” Karen yelled from somewhere.

“‘M gonna gofind the first lawmen…hicc…in Saint Denis and tell’imall…” an accusatory finger butterflied from person to person. “...Aaaallll boutyou! Specially that bastard who ranoff. They think…hicc…you dead!” her laughter shrilled at the sullen looks thrown her way.

“Come on, woman,” was Pearson's tired huff. “We’re sitting here in the mud with you.”

“You made this man!” she shrieked. “You built'im like some…some…” her hands fluttered to the sky as she bent backwards and Arthur took a small step forward to steady her before he stopped himself “…some dumb golden calf. Worshiped him! Dutch this…” she sneered, “…and Dutch that! Counted yer precious…hicc…pennies right into his palm. He thought he was a damn god! Then…” her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back, “y'all decided he wasn’ god nomore. 'M fucking glad he robed you,” she chortled. “Fuck all of ya!”

Hardly anyone argued, her words rang too true. 

“Miss O’Shea,” was Arthur’s tired attempt to reason with her, knowing damn well there was no reasoning with a drunkard.

“Pipe down you grumpy bitch!” Uncle hollered. “Even I’m embarrassed for you and that’s sayin’ something!”

“‘M gonna lead them riiiiiggghhhht here,” she swayed on her feet, stabbing a finger downwards. “‘M gonna tell’em-”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as the gunshot tore a hole through her stomach and he reflexively grabbed Savigne’s arm and swung her behind himself. She gasped with shock, stumbled, then clutched the back of his coat to steady herself. His eyes shot to his left, at the smoking shotgun in Ms. Grimshaw’s hands. A soft moan, the plop of a body and a last exhale as Molly O'Shea was no more.

“Was getting tired of that damn woman,” Grimshaw drawled and tilted the gun down. “Useless bitch, moaning about all day.” Her eyes shimmered with dark satisfaction as she looked back at Arthur.

There was a tense moment of silence as the hands on the back of his coat clutched harder and he had a sudden clear sight of the state of things: how far they had all strayed from normal into desperation, madness and cruelty. How pitiful their struggles and absent their compassion had become.

Something quickened in his gut - the twitch of a well honed animalistic instinct that flagged danger.

Absurd, his head argued. These people are your family. You can trust them with your life.

But his gut whispered Like you trusted Dutch? Look at them: crazed with anger, drunk with desperation. And armed.

They're good folks, his head pressed.

This is an outlaw camp. There are no good folks here.  

“John,” he breathed softly and the blur of a person appeared in the corner of his eye. “Hook them horses to the wagons instead. We leavin’.” The blur disappeared. 

Grimshaw pushed up her chin and gave him a defensive look over her nose. “You know the rules.”

What Arthur knew was that this woman had hated and envied Molly for a long time and as soon as Dutch's protection over her had lifted, she had scraped her off like mud on her shoe. His ire from a moment ago returned, but different in flavor: How dare they do this sort of thing around his woman? The god damn doctor had said no god damn tension! His vision crimsoned.

“Next time ya fire a gun 'round my woman,” he said darkly, “will be the last time you shoot.”

She blinked at this. They had shared a long journey, Arthur and Grimshaw, but he didn’t like that cruel glimmer in her eye and despite knowing she was far from likable, he was pissed at the stupidity, the pointlessness of Molly’s demise. Pushed around, left behind and then shot in the gut.

Savigne squirmed behind him as if to peek around his back and he shepherded her back with his arm and a soft “Don’ look" over his shoulder.

“You know the rules,” she repeated, face hard.

He nodded. “And now so do you,” was his warning.

His eyes crawled around the camp as the gang shuffled to their feet and his appetite for explaining and convincing dried up.

“We leavin’.”

“What about us?”

Sadie's voice murmured in his head, reminding him that the gang loved him but that their love came with expectations and jealousy. He shrugged, shifting to keep Savigne behind him. “Stay. Leave. Your call.”

“What about Dutch? The money?” asked Uncle.

It irked him that they could turn this smoothly to the prospect of money as Molly’s body lied there, still warm, but he forced his face to relax. Now that the hair on his neck had risen, he was wary to reveal his hand. 

“We'll talk when Sadie and Charles return," he lied smoothly. "We don' have the numbers. She know where 'm at, tell her to come by." 

“So that’s it?” whined Tilly. “We're just going to let them ride off?!”

You go after him then, he simmered quietly. He's a lot less likely to shoot at you than at me. 

“At least the bastard can’t get his greedy fingers on the Blackwater haul,” Karen drawled.

Somehow, in the aftershock of Dutch's betrayal, Arthur had forgotten all about that. “We divide the share of those three, might end up close to what we were due here,” he offered.

The news mollified the gang and he took the opportunity to turn Savigne around and urge her to walk back to the tent, all the while keeping himself between her and the gang, irrationally paranoid that the next shot would aim for her. He had no intention of returning here and odds were, this was the last time he was seeing most of them, but he didn't care because his gut churned with fear and alarm.

“Get yer shit,” he told Abigail as he walked by her. Ironically she was doing with Jack what he was doing with Savigne - shielding his view from Molly’s crumpled form. She gave him a curt nod.

“They shot her,” Savigne whispered, voice thick as she stumbled in front of him. “Just like that. She wasn’t going to do it, she was just upset.”

“I know,” was his tight response as he pushed her through the flap. 

“Why?”

“They angry and afraid.” He pushed her to the bed and tried to make her lie down. Despite her dazed state, she objected to her boots, so he quickly pulled them off and she crawled up to lie facing him. He sat at the edge and casually brushed the hair off her face for a while so she wouldn't pick up on his alarm. She was pale and cold, eyes all wide like a frightened animal.

“You okay?”

It took her a while, but eventually she sniffed “Yeah.”

Maybe it was all in his head, maybe he was spiraling like the rest of them, but he thought of Dutch's empty cot and he thought of that big chestnut tree and he found himself very short on trust. His hand deftly folded his coat away from his guns.  

“‘M gonna pack. We leaving',” he said when she calmed down.

“But…the cabin isn’t finished…”

“It’s finished enough, we’ll make do.”

She turned this in her head for a while. Then: “She told me once she grew up playing in the forests of Ireland.”

“Miss O'Shea?”

“Yeah.” Her face fell and her voice broke. “That little girl traveled all the way here to die in a swamp like some…some…animal.”

He didn't have words so he pulled the cover over her and squeezed her hand. 

“Want you to rest while I pack,” he said as he rose to his feet. “We goin’ home.”

It occurred to him suddenly that for the first time in his life, that word meant something other than the gang camp.

[zippidi-dooda]

A flat sigh blew out as you deflated onto a secluded bench. The other students seemed to have forgotten the events already, buzzing about merrily away from you.

You kept your eyes on the colorful floor, carpeted like an older arcade or pizza plex would be. The lights were dim but cast a blue-ish glow around everything. People munched away at the crowded tables, some cheering for the person you had just fought as they disappeared back into the crowd.

You had been told off with a warning, thankfully that was it, and the directors left quickly after separating you two. They'd been working here too long to care much about what had happened.

You were glad.

It was better that way.

Still, you felt a pair of eyes on you from across the hall.

You looked up.

Shinso.

He sat at his table for a while before getting up and heading over to you. His eyes, a bright purple hue just as wild in his hair, stayed on yours as he walked.

You wondered if you should look down. But he kept getting closer, so you decided you might as well lock on strong.

When he sat, all the way at the opposite end of the bench, you both looked to the ground.

A second or two of silence. Pondering. Settling.

"I can still do something, you know." He stated.

He hunched over, hands knitted together over his knees. Blunt and tired as you knew him to be.

"I know," you replied, "I'm glad you didn't this time."

You scooted closer, hesitating before resting your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around one of his.

You could feel him tense, flinching for a moment, but he didn't push you.

"It's not right." He spoke again. "Sibling or not, they shouldn't be picking fights with you like that."

Shinso wasn't exactly a friend. Not much of an acquaintance either. You hardly spoke to each other really. Only when you were paired for projects in class, and even then you only spoke the minimal for what was required.

"I know," your voice was dejected. This was a cause you'd long resigned to lose. "But eventually they'll get what's coming to them. They'll feel bad about all this then."

He glanced at you, where he felt you slump further into his side. His frown narrowed further.

"They would've hurt you if the teachers didn't stop by this time."

Yeah, he had caught you in the middle of one of your fights before. Been nice enough to use his quirk to stop things from getting too bad. Your sibling slowed down a bit after that, taunting you for being so weak that you needed an outsiders help.

Shinso was kind.

But you asked him to not do it again.

He listened.

"They're older than you too, they shouldn't want to hurt you so badly."

You squeezed his arm lightly. "Can't help that. They've done worse. I know that's bad to say or whatever but ...," you trailed off, remembering what it'd been like growing up.

"I don't really care. Sure, I'm mad at them. But ultimately, I'm happy. That's more than they could ever say. I had a good life other than all this. What other kid could say they went to so many amusement parks and restaurants nearly every day? I like my life. Wouldn't change anything if I could. Even this."

Shinso paused. "It's still not okay." He looked back at the floor.

"I know."

You watched him for a moment.

What was his life like? You didn't even know if he had siblings.

"Thank you." You said at last. "For caring. And for listening to what I said last time."

He shrugged. "I can still do something about it."

"Please don't. They'll be gone next year anyway. Won't have to worry."

He looked at you again. "If I ever see a bruise, I don't care what you ask me. I'm going to deal with them."

You smiled, feeling warm inside.

But how could you smile right now? Was all he could think.

"I heal fast."

"That's not reassuring."

"They've started doing less." You looked up, finally scanning the crowd again. "I dont really know what's going on with them. We have the same caretakers now but, the first few years before we really grew up together, they weren't raised by people who didn't care about them or what they did. And I've never really felt pain that much so ... Maybe that's why they do it."

He looked at you, irises a melancholic purple. "That's still not an excuse. And it's frightening how much you don't seem to consider yourself in all this."

You smiled at him again, squeezing his arm. "I'm alright. Thank you, Shinso. For worrying about me."

"Someone has to."

You leaned into his side again, happily watching everyone pass by. You're not sure why he wants to help, but you know you'll always be greatful he had. Even if you guys just go on ignoring each other when these types of events aren't happening. He'd be someone you'd always be able to look back on fondly.

He let out a deep sigh, settling back into the wooden bench with you, eyes scanning the room absentmindedly. So many people, too worried about themselves to care what a random fight between family could mean.

He didn't fully know himself.

But the part in him that wanted to be a hero knew he had to try and step in.

And he'd keep on doing it. Until you figured out why you had to start doing it yourself.

"We could dance." He hummed, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

You chuckled. "You like to dance?"

"No. But I saw ya wandering around the dance floor before all this happened."

You laughed again before nuzzling yourself closer to his side. "No, it's alright. This is fine."

"Alright." He breathed out.

He rested his head back, tucking his hands into his pockets. His eyes shut, the soft purples hidden underneath long lashes.

"If anything happens, just squeeze me. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Shinso." You hummed.

He could feel it against his chest.

"Hitoshi."

"... Hitoshi ...." You corrected, smile melting onto your lips. "Thank you, Hitoshi."

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Ten // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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She never could have imagined that one day she would be standing in a luxurious bathroom showering in a square enclosure big enough to fit four people. From past experience, she knew it was spacious enough for her, Jolly, and Noah to all shower together at the same time if they wanted. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she rolled her neck under the hot, invigorating water, missing the presence of her two lovers. Jolly had left early that morning for work, and Noah had worked all through the night and was now fast asleep just down the hall. Everything felt different now, as if she was seeing the world through new eyes - colors seemed brighter, details sharper. She had kept it to herself, but during dinner the night before, as she sat at the table gazing out at the sunset before Noah trotted off for his overnight shift, she realized the sky was no longer just the usual orange and salmon hues she remembered. Now she could see every delicate lining of the clouds as they slowly absorbed the fading rays of the setting sun. The sun's rays themselves seemed almost tangible, like soft wisps and tendrils of heat and light piercing the clouds. As she stared beyond the clouds to the emerging stars, if she looked hard enough, she could almost determine whether each pinprick of light was a planet, an asteroid, or merely a flare of gas in the endless depths of the universe.

After months of illness that had wasted away her body, she was finally beginning to regain her former vitality. As her vision cleared, she eagerly examined her reflection, tracing her hands over contours that had become gaunt and bony. Where protruding ribs and sagging flesh had sharply defined her frame, she now felt the welcoming padding of muscle returning. Her torso was firming, the taught skin smoothing over graceful curves that evoked her younger self. She cupped her breasts, gratified to feel their weight substantial in her hands again, their shape round and supple like ripe fruit. Her buttocks too had regained its plumpness, the bounce unmistakable as she walked. No longer did her body resemble a desiccated husk - it was rehydrating, regenerating, blossoming back to life. The transformation extended to her hair, which had grown coarse and fragile. Now it cascaded in glossy waves down her back, the dark sheen restored. She shook her head lightly, relishing the caress of soft locks against her skin. Everywhere she looked, evidence of her revival. Her body was reclaiming its vitality, and she embraced the renewal with open arms.

Even now sex was more than just something she enjoyed for a fleeting minute.  Last night, when Jolly had scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom, it marked the beginning of an epic encounter that would last for hours. She was ravenous, possessed by a carnal hunger that was demanded to be fed. Her body was starved, aching to be nourished, and sex was the sustenance it desperately needed. She feasted on Jolly with a voracious appetite, taking from him every pleasure-filled bite her body craved. All other needs faded away as they lost themselves in each other - no water, no food, no rest. Just urgent skin against feverish skin. Two bodies entwined in an ancient dance, moving together in perfect synchronicity until every gasp and moan signaled her satisfaction. She clung to him, unwilling to stop until her hunger was fully sated. 

The years of hardship and struggle had worn her down, grinding away her spirit until only a hollow shell remained. Selling her body was the final degradation, the last remnant of dignity stripped away. She felt detached, going through the motions mechanically, but feeling nothing, as if her capacity for joy had been amputated. A protective numbness set in, shielding what was left of her heart. Even the simplest touch felt foreign, an intrusion on flesh that no longer seemed her own. She wondered if she'd ever feel pleasure again, or if that part of her was lost forever. But then she met them. And in their arms, for the first time in years, she remembered what it was to be cared for, to be seen as a person rather than an object. Jolly’s patient affection drew her out of her shell, awakening sensations long dormant. A brush of his hand ignited sparks; a kiss melted her defenses. With him, she rediscovered intimacy, tenderness, ecstasy - the possibility of wholeness. The broken pieces of herself began to knit back together. Though the shadows of her past still lingered, she now had hope of reclaiming everything she'd lost, with this man who made her feel human once more.

Stepping out from under the hot cascade of the shower, she let out a soft moan as the water rinsed away the last suds of soap from her body. Her mind wandered down the hall to Noah, picturing his strong hands gliding over her slick skin, caressing her in all the right places, making her feel a pleasure that her own touch could never replicate. As she toweled off her damp body and skin, droplets of water still clinging to her curves, her arousal grew thinking of his muscular frame just beyond her door. She could almost sense him there—the steady rise and fall of his chest, his masculine scent mingling with hints of cologne, calling to her. Her nipples stiffened against the towel, sensitive and wanting. An aching need pooled between her thighs as fantasies took shape in her mind, vivid scenes of his hands exploring her body, his mouth hot on her skin. She took her time brushing out her wet tresses, savoring the building excitement. With each stroke of the brush, she imagined his fingers weaving through her hair, gripping tight as he claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. She stood before the steamy mirror, her own reflection flushed with desire.

Noah tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, unable to find comfort. A pounding headache had plagued him for days ever since Rosa first took ill. Her mysterious sickness seemed to have infected him as well in some strange, supernatural way. He could feel her pain, her fever - it coursed through his veins as if it were his own. His hunter's senses, always attuned to his master and mistress, were now fixed on Rosa with alarming intensity. Her presence called to him even from a distance, resonating in his mind and body in a way he had never felt before. Not even his deep bond with Jolly compared to this. Her fevered whispers echoed in his head, morphing from soft murmurs to desperate cries to sensual moans. The sound of his name on her lips was irresistible, igniting a forbidden yearning. They both sensed this unnatural connection, this dangerous desire. As her feverish voice cried out again, Noah's eyes flew open. He could resist no longer. Throwing off his sheets, he leapt out of bed, propelled by the mysterious force compelling him toward the object of his twisted obsession.

He followed the sweet scent of jasmine down the long hallway, the fragrance wafting on the steam billowing from the open en suite bathroom door. His mouth began to water in anticipation, his manhood straining against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. The primal beast within him whined desperately for release as well. He entered Jolly's bedroom, although now it was truly their shared sanctuary, as she has resided here for several weeks now. Her essence permeated the very fabric of their sprawling apartment, infusing the furniture with her delicate aura. This dwelling was as much her home now as it was theirs. The expansive bed was a tangled mess of rumpled sheets and wrinkled covers, bearing the lingering scents of his mistress and master's passionate lovemaking from the previous night. He recalled how Jolly had returned home early and, just as Noah was leaving for the evening, had whisked Rosa off to their bedroom. That heady blend of scents still lingered in the air, intertwining with the soap and steam. Drawn like a moth to a flame, Noah slowly pushed open the bathroom door, desperate to bask in the intoxicating presence of his beloved mistress.

"Mistress," he called softly. As she stood there, bare skin still dewy from the shower, the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts were illuminated by the warm glow of the vanity lights. Her hair cascaded down her back in long, dark waves, the brush combing through the tangles with languid strokes. She watched him through the mirror, eyes half-lidded but attentive, sensing his desire even from across the room. The mundane ritual of brushing her hair became charged with intimacy. He was transfixed by the simple elegance of her movements, the brush gliding down each lock with care, her body swaying gently to an unheard rhythm. It was an everyday act made sensual by her quiet confidence, the intimacy of witnessing her private moment at the vanity. 

She set the brush down, turning around slowly to face him. Noah felt his knees tremble as he dropped to the floor unable to hold his own weight anymore. She watched, looking down at him as he admired every inch of her skin. Her porcelain complexion shined in the dim light, flawless and smooth. As she turned, her hips swayed gently, accentuating her supple curves. Noah was transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from her exquisite form. He felt powerless under her gaze like a devotee kneeling before a goddess.

"Come here," she hooked a finger beckoning him to her and he obeyed. Crawling on all fours across the slick floor to her feet, he moved reverently towards her, never taking his eyes off her. The cold floor sent shivers up his spine but he hardly noticed, so enthralled by her beauty. Looking up at her through his lashes, the angle was perfect for him to worship every inch of her. He could devour her here and now, consume her like a man starved, but he waited, patiently, longingly for her command. She was in control and he submitted to her completely, yearning to please whatever desires she wished of him. He was hers, mind, body, and soul.

“Up here,” she said, her voice low yet commanding as she gazed up at him. 

Despite her petite stature, it was clear she held power over him, her presence radiating authority that he couldn't help but submit to. He rose to his feet in an instant, his tall frame towering over her small one. Yet her confidence remained unwavering as she tilted her chin up, meeting his eyes boldly.

 Resting her bottom on the vanity, she spread her legs, beckoning him closer. He moved in willingly, unable to resist her siren call. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush against hers. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, a featherlight touch that nevertheless sent electricity skittering across his skin. Her hands slid up his chest to curl around the back of his neck, manicured nails scratching lightly as she deepened the kiss. He was utterly enraptured, consumed by the taste and feel of her. She owned him in that moment, her feminine wiles reducing him to putty in her hands.

“Mistress, I can-” he tried to speak but was silenced as her lips captured his in a sudden, passionate kiss. Her soft lips pressed against his with urgency, before she gently caught his bottom lip between her teeth in a teasing bite. 

“Can’t wait. Need you now.” Her voice was thick with desire as her hands found his waistband, yanking down his sweats with such force that his rapidly swelling cock was freed a bit too roughly. He couldn’t hold back a soft whimper as his stiffening length sprang free, slapping back heavily against his lower abdomen. Her eager hands had left him exposed and aching with need.

“And you can’t either.” She purred, her fingers wrapping around his quickly hardening shaft as she began to stroke him firmly. Her thumb swiped over the swollen, leaking tip, smearing his slick precum over the sensitive head. He groaned loudly, his body trembling with anticipation and arousal. 

His hands cupped her soft thighs as he pulled her close, her round ass barely touching the top of the vanity as she floated in midair. She still had a firm hold of him, helping to guide his throbbing manhood to her moist entrance before releasing her grasp once he was perfectly aligned. With a deep thrust, he plunged inside her fully, both of them letting out a contented sigh of pleasure. Their bodies moved as one, her knees bending higher with each powerful thrust as her hands braced against the vanity to hold her balanced. Her long, dark hair slipped from her shoulders, and Noah's eyes fell upon the faint pink scars that had once been an open, bloody wound - the wound he had inflicted on her shoulder himself. The very wound that started this passionate yet complicated affair. His rhythm slowed as he looked upon the now-healed shoulder, guilt washing over him. When she realized what had distracted him, she followed his remorseful gaze to the scars, her cheeks flushing red with remembrance.

"I've been thinking," she started to speak but didn't need to say anymore. He'd been thinking the same as well. He wanted to taste it again, he'd been wanting more. Noah leaned down to her shoulder, to the cusp between her neck and the old scars. His teeth sharpened at the thought but he hesitated, the scent of her skin intoxicating him.

She knew what he desired without the words leaving her lips. The craving was mutual between them, an insatiable thirst for the sweet elixir that flowed through her veins. When his breath caressed the nape of her neck, her pulse quickened, blood rising to the surface. Noah inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma that enveloped his senses. It was a tantalizing perfume that stirred his deepest urges, urging him to sink his fangs into the soft flesh before him. Yet still, he lingered, prolonging the exquisite torture of anticipation.

To taste her blood once more would transport him to euphoric heights, satisfying his primal hunger while forging an even deeper bond between them. But the experience would leave her weakened, vulnerable. He had to be certain she was willing to make that sacrifice again. Their eyes locked in silent communication, a confirmation that she understood the implications and accepted them fully. At last, with her consent, he gave in to his ravenous desire, piercing her delicate skin and indulging in the divine nectar within.

As the blood entered his mouth, it was like an explosion of flavor on his tongue. The metallic tang mingled with notes of cinnamon and nutmeg, creating a flavor profile as complex as a fine wine. The blood was warm, almost hot, as it slid down his throat, soothing him from the inside like a steaming cup of tea on an autumn afternoon when the chill outside bites at your fingertips.

He opened his eyes, finding them in the mirror, but they were no longer his own. As he gazed at his reflection, he was taken aback by the kaleidoscope of colors that now resided in his irises, no longer the deep chocolate brown he was accustomed to. Fiery purples and cool blues wrestled for dominance, with flecks of emerald green and slate grey dotted throughout. It was as if her essence now flowed through him, the vibrancy of her soul bursting forth in technicolor hues. He recalled that morning at breakfast, appreciating the varied shades of her eyes as he and their master fucked her senseless.

The viscous red liquid flowed lazily down her back, tracing the contours of her shoulder blade like a macabre finger painting. As gravity pulled the blood downward, it split into rivulets that diverged along either side of her spine. A gruesomely beautiful sight. 

“Noah, please,” She begs. His mouth releases her shoulder as he takes her hips with a vice grip, thrusting deep into her. As Noah thrusts into her, he feels an unfamiliar but tantalizing sensation deep in his abdomen that he has never experienced before. With each thrust, the feeling builds again, hitting his belly and spreading outward. Her head tilts back in ecstasy, eyes fluttering open to reveal irises swirling with cascading colors. As he gazes into them, he sees his own eyes reflected back, the same hypnotic colors gazing back at him. In this moment, they are profoundly connected - he can feel everything she feels, physically and emotionally. 

"Right there," she encourages breathily, their bodies moving as one. The feeling continues building until it crests, a powerful wave radiating up from below his navel, pooling in his lower back, pulsing down his legs. She clenches around him and he knows she is feeling the same earth-shattering release. Their connection transcends anything he has ever known as they reach new heights of intimacy and pleasure together.

The intimate connection is suddenly severed as her mind goes blank with pleasure. He can only feel his own body now, still thrumming with adrenaline, as her legs start to shake and go weak under the onslaught of sensation. Swiftly pulling out from her velvety depths, he sets her on her feet before spinning her lithe body around, bending her over the cold sink as she braces her hands on the smooth porcelain. He kicks her legs open, exposing her glistening pink folds, then drives his throbbing cock deep inside her once more, taking her shoulders in his strong hands for leverage as he thrusts forcefully.

He knows she is close, can feel the familiar fluttering of her inner muscles clenching tightly around him, hear the desperate moans spilling from her kiss-swollen lips, see the way her muscles tense and relax in response to his intimate touch. But it's not enough for him, not yet.

"Mistress, please," he growls, the cords in his thick neck standing out with restraint, "I need to feel it, need to feel you let go for me."

"I'm almost there," she whines, but her pleasure-clouded mind must not be functioning clearly. He needs to make himself perfectly understood. Leaning forward, he takes her throat in his large hand, the heat of his mouth searing her ear, "No, I need to FEEL you, mistress, please let me feel you come undone around me."

Her eyes open wide to shine bright swirling colors and Noah’s own vision changes like walking into a brightly lit room from a dark closet, they adjust and he can feel everything, the heat and the pressure all of them together as one. As he hones in on their shared connection he can feel her heartbeat, two beats above his own, her breath he can sense and feel it in his lungs long after her chest stops rising with one breath before taking another. It’s all new and all consuming.  He pounds into her harder, “Yes Noah, right there, don’t stop,” he feels her release again. The feeling almost causing his own. Their bodies are intertwined in ecstasy, every nerve alive with pleasure. As he thrusts deeper, harder, she gasps and moans, urging him on. Her eyes are luminous, swirling with desire, and he is lost in her gaze.

 Their connection transcends the physical, two souls merging as one. Noah holds back his own climax, wanting her to peak again and again. "You want to come to," she coos, and he growls, gripping her hips tightly as she grasps the sink. He can feel his orgasm building like a tidal wave, but still, he waits. 

"No, no. It's your turn. I want to feel you, Noah." His pace is relentless now as they move together. Finally, she gasps "That's it...that's it...fuck, such a good boy for me. Fuck. Come for me Noah let me feel you." With a guttural cry, he releases and feels her body spasm around him. 

He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as his eyes gradually returned to their usual chocolate brown color, the supernatural glow fading away. Pulling out from her, he caught sight of the evidence of their tryst - his milky fluid sliding down her still trembling thighs. She reached unsteadily for a towel on the rack to clean herself up, but he grabbed it first, gently picking her up to sit on the bathroom vanity. He slowly spread her legs open, taking his time to tenderly wipe away the sticky mess from her soft skin.

"Master won't be happy when he sees I've bitten you," he said regretfully, his eyes lingering on the fresh bite mark on her shoulder.

Her eyes felt like they were crossing as she pictured herself in her and Jolly’s bed, the sheets a mess and crowded around her hips as she straddled Noah’s lap, riding him slowly. The intimate scene playing out in her mind made her dizzy with desire and guilt. She could almost feel Noah's strong hands gripping her waist as she rocked against him, the pleasure building steadily. Though the act existed only in her head, the vivid details flooded her senses - the warmth of their bare skin sliding together, Noah's breath hot against her neck, the way the sheets would surely be damp with sweat and tangled around their writhing bodies.

In her mind, Jolly walked in seeing them together, but rather than reacting with shock or anger, he gently pushed the hair out of the way to place a soft kiss above her wound, his hand hovering over her shoulder as the skin pulled itself together turning from angry red and bruised to pink and healed. The tenderness Jolly showed added to the dizzying swirl of emotions she felt.

She blinked her eyes a few times a vivid vision began to fade. Her gaze settled back on Noah who finished cleaning her thighs, reaching down to stroke his head. 

“No, I don’t think he will be,” she said softly.

[thewisaaaaad]

HEY I JUST HAD AN IDEA!

since I cannot find the motivation or drive to DRAW my ref sheet, I can just describe them in minute detail!

SO Hypnos. this will be split into 4 ish parts because there are 4 major states to them!

Pre life, they are a ghostly sheep with pure white wool but black fur (the short hair beneath the wool, around the face and arms.). They have two short horns, the left one broken halfway up, and Their eyes are pure white. They wear the fleece of the crusader, and have the classic bell, with light brown pants that are held up with a cord belt. they are not affected by gravity, and cannot touch anything (exept in ONE specific circumstance.). they are unaffected by the red moon.

After being forced into a body, they look much the same color-wise, except that now their wool is perpetually dirty. Their left horn remains broken. Their eyes now have pupils, but are mismatched due to the right one being replaced with Leshies eye. that eye also has no eyelid, as Shamura didn't bother. (a worms eye doesn't need an eyelid because it has a protective membrane, but Hypnos now needs to rub at their eye sometimes.) Their ears are now blue, in tatters, and constantly wet due to belonging to a certain squid (the ears can no longer wriggle to express emotion, and it hurts when they feel happy.). They do not speak in their own voice, due to having Hekets throat, but they undergo voice training to try to sound like themselves again. they still croak sometimes. The biggest change, however, is their head shape. No longer shaped like a wedge, like it once was, it is now rounded, with skin having been clumsily removed from their face so that it matched the new curvature. Having Shamuras skull means that they now have a vestigial nose, as spiders do not have one, as well as divots behind their eyes where extra eyes could fit. they also have fangs. They wear the red crown, but its eye does not open, and forms no weapons for them as it tries to maintain their body. they are constantly on the verge of falling apart, Held together by purple thread in messy stiches. their stability (and stitches) greatly improve after Kalamar's care. They wear a heavy iron collar sealed with a golden diamond shaped lock, only open-able by the god of war. their cloak is a tattered, worn version they wore while incorporeal. It is infused with the same magic that binds Hypnos to the world of the living, pulling fervor out of the air and giving the lamb a means to fight. Their magic, shaped by their torment, comes in the form of lightning.

After their rebirth through the cream crown, their stitched together wounds finally heal, though the relics remain embedded in their flesh. The purple thread is gone, leaving only scars. Their wool seems cleaner, and their eyes shine brighter. They no longer wear the red crown, and instead wear the cream crown: a crown with a sideways cream colored eye (and i do mean sideways, even the pupil), the crown itself the shape of a miter hat (a bishops hat, the one that followers use at refineries). Their ruined cloak has transformed into a beautiful wool one that resembles a sunset or perhaps a sunrise on a clear day, retaining some of the powers of its previous form but now works a little differently (if they stand still and 'take a rest', their fervor charges really fast). The shackle on their neck has loosened, not quite free yet, and the lock was warped by the surge of power from an awakening god into a softer shape, resembling a cloud now.

After they have achieved redemption, they have grown into a full god. The relics are truly part of them now, and they have accepted this body as their own. Leshies eye has grown an eyelid made of moss, Kalamars ears now properly wiggle, Hekets voice is full of power, and now flowers sprout from the wool on Hypnos's head. They are much taller now, and their intact horn has grown into a rams horn, while their broken horn has spiraled upward, still broken halfway up. They now wear a cloak embroidered with the patterns of the old faith, but it is dyed to resemble the sun on the horison, with stars still twinkling above. Their wool is now lightly cream tinted at the edges, looking like a soft cloud.

They no longer wear the lock.

[s-seishiro]

࿐STREET RACER AU! shidou ryusei

summary: pretty explanatory. just some ideas inspired by that one oikawa street racer fanfic and @asxte.ria on tiktok

— headcannons+

— no warnings!

Shidou is FAMOUS in underground street races. Everybody knows his name, everybody knows his game and everybody knows to stay out of his lane.

He drives a modified Toyota Supra. The body paint of the car being a magenta-ish pink. It’s decorated in decals and other miscellaneous stickers.

Everyone knows he arrived based on the sound of his 2JZ-GTE engine.

Most of the racers tend to stay clear of Shidou because of his anger issues and eagerness to throw hands with anything or anyone who inconveniences him.

He is a brash driver. He doesn’t really care if he has to play dirty to win—as long as he’s number one.

Shidou just loves living life on edge. Wether it’s speeding through the city in a high speed chase, or riding dangerously fast just to feel the wind in his hair. All of it is for the thrills.

This carefree, idgaf attitude of his has landed him in the underworld hall of fame. Causing him to be one of the most sought after racer in all the competitions. Everyone is itching to see who will be the one to dethrone the king.

He is VERY competitive. He LOVES the adrenaline he gets during and after a race. But because of this rush he tends to get pretty violent and angry at times. It during those moments when people fear him and know to stay clear of his path.

Surprisingly, Shidou is VERY popular with the spectators. Many people enjoy betting on him to see him trash his opponents—or vice versa. And of course there are those who think he is extremely attractive. Women would often flock over to him to compliment him, hoping for at least one chance. And he doesn’t really mind the attention.

He NEVER lets anyone else handle his car. He doesn’t trust the street. If it’s not him fixing his car then nobody is.

Okay so let’s be real, he has tattoos. I’m thinking a dragon tattoo that’s kinda in the same position as Kaiser’s rose tattoo. And for some reason he’d probably have those Japanese back tattoo of the tiger and the dragon.

Is known for his odd relationship with the Itoshi brothers.

Everyone in the underground community even public community knows of Shidou and Rin’s rivalry. The first time the met was at a underground race—one that Rin accidentally stumbled upon. And Shidou, of course wanted to prove that he was better than the “official” racers. This whole ordeal was trending on Twitter and every time they have a rematch, the event is sold out.

Itoshi Sae was more interested in Shidou’s speed—and at one point you can see that Shidou’s was on a official team. But he quit because he had tons of restrictions placed on him to “save face.”

“If it isn’t baby eyelashes? I see you switched out your car for something a bit more modest!” Shidou pulled up beside Rin’s car, smirking once he saw the clear disdain on his face. The two of them just happened to be stopped by a red light on the same intersection. And Shidou, despite Rin not using his official race car, STILL spotted him.

Rin didn’t even need to glance in Shidou’s direction to know it was him. His brightly colored car instantly gave him away. “When will you ever stop being an public eyesore?”

“Your life is an eyesore.” Rin gave Shidou the deadliest side eye known to mankind, twitching in annoyance at his words. Shidou however was having the time of his life! Bothering the little Itoshi brother was his favorite pastime.

“Shut up, you antenna ass freak.” Rin spat, winding his windows up to block anything else Shidou had to say. It was still early in the morning and he was already getting pissed off.

“Hey hey hey language! Does your brother know you talk like that? Oh wait! You two aren’t on speaking terms are you?”

“You—”

Before Rin could get a word in Shidou zoomed off, leaving a trail of skid marks and exhaust. Shidou finally got the perfect reaction out of Rin, and so there was no reason to wait at the red light anymore.

Once again he had successfully left Rin without the last word. And he knew Rin wouldn’t dare run the red to catch up to him. He had a professional career to worry about—a restriction Shidou was glad to not have over him.

Now if Shidou has a lover…things get a bit interesting.

I can just see him always inviting you to watch his races. And most of the times you can’t attend because it’s late at night and the two of you are still college students.

But there are special instances where you watch his races—and it’s then he makes sure to show out.

After you get used to the run down of how things go—he drags you into the race into the passenger seat. Leaving you with no wanting except:

“Buckle up angel~!”

He loves hearing your screams of fear and excitement as he drives dangerously fast. He would tease and laugh at the way you clutch onto the seat for dear life.

[enavstars]

More Cyberpunk au details + details of the RGB desings + earlier concept drawing

(Before that please let me know if you want more info on the au because I have a couple drawings planned but with school and stuff I can't draw much and Idk if I can stay motivated that long. So my next posts could be mostly au lore with maybe some sketches, tell me if you'd like that)

In general terms, to give the Cyberpunk aesthetic to all of their designs I try to avoid symmetry by adding belts or patterns to break it. And for the colors, I focused on darker hues and neon tones. This way, the designs have a “punk”/dystopian-ish vibe while representing the high-tech elements of their society (which is like Cyberpunk in a nutshell).

As for the young versions of RGB, each one has their own color palette: Kai's is Red and orange with shades of black; Nya's is Blue, pinkish red and light shades of gray; and Lloyd's is light Green and also dark blueish green. Kai and Nya get a few details (shoes, arm or jacket) of each other’s main color as a wink ;).

Kai's outfit is meant for moving around comfortably both in the city and outside, Nya's is like a mechanic uniform for tinkering, and Lloyd's is for running as fast as possible; he also has a puffy sleeve similar to Kai's (le wink again). All three of them have a letter of RGB in some part of their outfit and share a tech pattern, each positioned differently (Kai in his inside shirt, Lloyd in his sweatshirt and Nya in her leggins)

As for Kai's eye:

One day, when they were exploring around the danger zone of the outskirts of the city, Kai accidentally activated a trap set by one of the last survivors of the Outside that unexpectedly still lived there (a paranoid rancid sociopath). The violent trap had become infested with Red plants with time and made Kai get in contact with it too: it instantly dug its roots deep within his right eye socket and Kai was unable to pull it off. Since it was such a sensitive spot where the plant was sucking all the nutrients out of him, he was so weak that Nya had to slowly and painstakingly carry him back through the ruined suburbs to get help inside the city walls. After getting around the border control with the plant still stuck to Kai’s eye, all thanks to Echo’s help (who also carried the kid the rest of the way), they got to the doctor’s. Luckily, he was able to cure Kai, but he was forced to remove the affected area, which were his eye and part of the skin of his face; however, if he had waited any longer the plant's roots would have reached his brain and killed him.

Nya then started looking for a biomechanic while Kai rested with little Lloyd, who’d followed his sister all throughout the loaded trip back but could do nothing but keep her company due to his size. However, when the girl finally found one who agreed to make the prosthetic eye for them, a fellow demon named Ronin, he set them the condition to seek out a strange artifact for him as payment, giving them a total of eight years to find it. With no money and no choice, they were forced to accept, but Nya managed to get a picture of the prosthetic’s plans; this ensured that she’d be able to fix it and not depend on the guy too much, but four years later they were found out and their deadline was cut down to only another year.

In the end, Ronin will be Ronin, and the mysterious artifact was in fact a collectionist piece of

Garbage.

Apart from that incident though, as kids they don’t really spend that much time in the city, and they generally only come there to visit their friends/acquaintances and sell stuff Nya finds. For example, they do both of those things in Ed and Edna’s junkyard, where Nya trades her scraps for their more useful scraps while visiting their friend Jay. She and her siblings (who always need to stick together inside the city walls just in case) like telling stories about their adventures in the Outside to the oblivious inhabitants, so obviously Jay is no exception. The girl is very energetic and much more of a little unhinged rascal in this au, so her stories are usually really exciting and filled with funny acting for the little boy. Additionally, as they are both mechanics in the making, whenever the siblings come around his parent’s workshop, Nya and him show each other their latest creations and sometimes they even discuss how they could improve on their work.

But the one who most often talks to people, especially strangers, is Kai. Because even though they are feared as demons, the boy is much more chill and charismatic than his siblings, and is usually in charge of being the friendlier face (although he does like staring at the people who get scared of his dragon ears a little too hard hehe). In fact, they use that awkward fear to their own advantage: due to Lloyd’s much more obvious demon features (his ears are even pointier than the other two’s and his eyes are straight up red), he is often the distraction whenever they need to steal food, either in times of need or if they just wanna cause trouble. People just cannot stop staring nervously at the little boy, who is great at drawing the wrong kind of attention, and when the act is up, he’s so fast following his siblings that no one can ever catch him.

Overall, they don’t really give a single damn about society and think too many of them are just as parasitic as the plants in the Outside, so they don’t often bother as kids to get into the city. That, paired with the fact that they are just three tiny outcasts who somehow miraculously keep coming back from the “deadly” Outside, means that people in the city just tolerate and more or less respect them (out of being kinda spooked by them), so they tend to get away with their shenanigans without much repercussion.

But in the future, they do change their habits a little bit.

When it comes to their designs, they do keep the same purpose but with variations in their shapes. Kai still uses casual comfortable wear but his color palette changes a bit, with a more pinkish Red with blue highlights instead of orange, but he does keep the shades of black. His outfit now consists of a thin bodysuit cut at the chest and hips to make sort of a hexagonal fishnet pattern, trousers and boots, along with a ton of new accessories (more slutty in general).

Nya keeps the mechanic vibe but with more of the gray and blue colors and barely any red. She has huge trousers with bigger pockets and her tools attached under her belt, a sports bra (for the ladies ;)) and mech gloves. She keeps her goggles, which are a different color now.

Lloyd has a sports outfit similar to the previous one in the shorts and leggings. He keeps the puffy sleeve on his left arm, although it is now a standalone piece, and has bigger trainers. His color palette is black and white with neon/bright greens. He lost his arm in an accident with plants too: the affected area was on his upper arm so they had to remove the entire thing, and Jay made his prosthesis.

They all have more small details of their other siblings’ colors (for example Lloyd has the pins on his casual vest); also, and instead of having their respective RGB letters on a random part of their outfits they are now matching at the back of the three jackets. Some other details on them are the fire symbol in blue on Kai's bomber jacket and on Nya's military jacket, the label on the chest that reads "samurai", complete with its X on the arm sleeve.

Their more mature personalities make them live around more in the city, although practically nobody knows their true names still, while also not leaving behind the Outside or Echo (in fact, their expeditions tend to be longer now that they have more experience and overall strength and abilities).

Nya (still just known as “Blue”) actually works in her own workshop now, selling her works on her own. However, her stubborn, energetic and blunt personality has now matured into pure badass and she’s constantly looking for a fight, but nobody can touch her or at least seriously hurt her because she’s insanely strong.

Also, even if they do manage to actually harm her she has her brother Kai (“Red”) looking out for her, who can basically destroy anyone’s private life if they mess with any of their siblings through blackmail :). In fact, he’s usually seen hanging around in the Red district (they even mistake him for a prostitute sometimes lmao), which is where most of the juicy information is flung around, so he has no trouble getting sensitive information about anyone and anything in the city. In addition, he’s developed a calm and charismatic personality that lures people into their manipulative tactics to take advantage of virtually anyone he wants, but his temper can be frail sometimes, especially when his siblings are hurt in any way. But, when it comes to them, even though he is more protective of them as the older brother and can explode if they are treated badly, he still fully trusts them and their abilities and they all rely on and fiercely fight for each other like a team whenever necessary.

In contrast to his siblings, though, Lloyd tends to avoid conflict as much as he can: despite looking like a human neon sign with his jacket on, he always manages to scurry out of sight whenever he’s in trouble as the speedy, witty little monke he is. And the reason he gets caught up in so much drama is because he is extremely curious and, as they aren’t kids anymore, people now care about the demon trio’s meddling in their business quite a bit more.

In conclusion, as they grow, Kai, Nya and Lloyd become more intelligent and fleshed out in their own ways, and even though they still have no respect for society as a whole, they do keep some friends close to them. They love each other and Echo as the unique family they are, and always make sure they have each other’s backs no matter the situation.

Here is Kai's early design + scar (TW: gore)

[e-dubbc11]

Dog Day Afternoon

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 3.8K-ish

Summary: STRIKE team commander at SHIELD, Brock Rumlow finishes a mission and brings something home with him that he wasn’t expecting

A/N: Based off of a conversation I had with my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass I sent her Frank Grillo’s Insta story of him in his hot tub with his dog, Rumlow, next to him outside of the hot tub. He said that the dog never lets him have any alone time. So Lily said she would love a Brock Rumlow fic where he adopts a puppy. I’m also sorry I haven’t been around lately. Life throws curveballs sometimes 💔

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Is that all of them?” Rumlow asked.

Commander of the STRIKE team at SHIELD, Brock Rumlow and his team finished rescuing the hostages that were being held by pirates. One by one, they were removed from the ship and placed back into SHIELD custody.

“I think so.” Rollins said. “You want me to sweep the ship one more time?” He asked.

Brock pondered for a minute before replying, “I’ll come with ya…cover more ground that way.”

After checking the entire ship for hostages they may have missed, Brock and Jack met back in the control room. As they continued to talk, Brock thought he heard a whimper. Turning his head to the side, he held up a hand at Jack to get him to stop talking.

“What is it, Rumlow?” Asked Jack.

Brock pressed his lips together and listened again. “You hear that?” He asked.

Rollins listened intently as he heard the whimper that Rumlow heard. “Where’s that coming from?” Asked Jack.

Brock lowered his weapon and took out his flashlight. He shined his light under the control board and huddled in the corner, Brock saw two little sad eyes staring back out at him as it continued to whimper.

He crawled underneath and emerged a few seconds later with a dark graphite colored puppy. The pup was still whimpering and shaking; the poor thing was terrified.

Confused, Jack asked, “What was that doing under there?”

Brock replied, “I dunno…but other dogs were found in the cargo area. Maybe this one escaped and found it’s way up here.”

Jack started to walk toward the main deck of the ship.

“Well put it down, we gotta get outta here.” Said Jack.

Brock started to put the puppy on the floor but stopped. He looked into the scared eyes of the little dog and as soon as it’s legs touched the floor, Brock scooped it back into his arms again and headed for the main deck.

Jack cracked a slight smile. “Rumlow…what are you doin’? Leave it.”

“I can’t just leave her, Rollins.” Said Brock, nervously. “And don’t look at me like that, let’s just go.”

Jack just shook his head and followed Brock to the helicarrier, where the pup finally stopped shaking, curled up in Brock’s lap and fell fast asleep before they even left the scene.

**********

SHIELD Headquarters

Brock had his bag slung over his shoulder as he walked along the busy hallway toward the briefing room. Jack saw him walk into the room and immediately walked away from the other team member he was talking to so he could talk to Brock.

“Don’t start with me, Rollins. It’s too early in the mornin’ for you to be botherin’ me.” Brock said, his gravelly voice had a slight touch of anger behind it.

Jack’s hands raised in surrender and replied, “Alright, alright. I was just gonna ask if you took care of that dog.”

Brock glared at Jack. “Of course I took care of it.”

What Brock didn’t tell Jack was that he brought the pup back to his place and later today after work, he was going to stop by the pet store to pick up necessities for her because he couldn’t keep feeding her table scraps and locked in the bathroom with newspaper all over the floor for very long.

He hated to admit it but he took one look into her eyes and realized there was no way that he could bring her to a shelter now, not after this so after work he drove straight for the pet shop. As soon as he stepped inside, Brock was immediately overwhelmed by everything he saw.

Aisle after aisle of food, toys, grooming supplies, collars and leashes…he didn’t know where to start but lucky for him there was someone there that recognized the look of a new and overwhelmed pet owner.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you with something?” You asked softly so as not to scare him. You did sneak up behind him when you noticed he looked a little lost.

The man looked rough around the edges but still quite handsome. He had dark brown hair, light tanned skin and his narrowed eyes were the color of amber.

You spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you. You just looked a little lost, thought maybe I could help. I’m y/n, this is my shop, and if I don’t have what you’re lookin’ for, I can definitely order it for you. Are you shopping for a dog, cat, or another animal?” You asked.

His eyes were hyper focused on you the minute he turned around.

“Nah, you didn’t scare me sweetheart. You’ve got a nice shop here and I am shopping for a dog…well, a puppy. And I’m Brock, by the way.” He said as he held out his hand for you to shake.

Your eyes widened as soon as the word “puppy” escaped his lips and your mouth split into an excited smile as you shook his hand.

“Really?!! A boy or a girl puppy?!” You asked, clapping your hands together.

Brock let a shy smile stretch across his lips. “Girl…she’s a rescue. Found her a few nights ago and since it was a full moon, I’ve been calling her Luna.” Said Brock.

You almost had to clutch your chest because the look he had on his face as he talked was so sweet.

Snapping yourself back to reality, you managed to ask him, “What kind of dog is she?”

Brock shrugged and started to pull his phone from his back pocket.

“I dunno…but I do have a picture of her.” He said.

Brock leaned in close, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body, and warmth flushed across your cheeks. You watched as his thick fingers unlocked his phone and navigated to his photo gallery before pulling up one of the sweetest faces you’ve ever seen.

“OMGoodness, look at that face!!” You exclaimed. “Well, she looks like a Cane Corso. If you just found her, I’m guessing you haven’t taken her to the vet yet?”

Brock shook his head vigorously. “Nah, I’ve had to work so I haven’t been able to do that yet.”

You explained to him that he may want to bring her to the vet soon just to make sure she’s ok and you gave him the card of the veterinary hospital you bring your dog, Charlie, to.

“…They’re a husband and wife, really nice and fairly priced. Actually…lemme call them.” You said.

Brock started to protest.

“Oh, that’s ok…you don’t have to—“

“It’s no trouble.” You said, holding the phone to your ear. “Hi Jessica, it’s y/n. I’m good, how are you? Great! Listen…I have a guy here who has a new puppy and she needs to be seen…uh huh…Oh Dr. Alice can see her tomorrow? Awesome!” You said. “Oh the owner’s name is Brock…what’s your last name?” You asked, pulling the phone away from your mouth.

“Oh…it’s Rumlow.” Replied Brock.

“Yeah…Brock Rumlow. And the puppy is Luna. Thank you so so much, Jessica! Bye!” You said.

After the call ended, you flashed a smile at Brock and asked, “You weren’t busy around 4:30 tomorrow, right?”

Slowly shaking his head, Brock narrowed his eyes and repliedwith a sly smile, “Nope, I guess I’m not.”

Excitedly, you clapped your hands together again and said, “Well, let’s go Mr. Rumlow! We have a lot of stuff to pick out for little Luna, which I will warn you…she won’t be little for much longer. She’s gonna grow into those paws, ya know.”

You made him push the cart and took him from aisle to aisle to pick out food, toys, and a collar, among other things. He needed everything including a bed, food dishes, and a crate. That cart was full by the time you were done.

“Do I really need all this stuff, y/n?” Asked Brock.

“Well…you do plan on keeping her, right?” You asked.

Brock paused before answering.

“Yeah…I plan on keeping her.” He said.

You shrugged and pressed your lips into a straight line.

“Then you need all this stuff.” You replied.

Brock spent a small fortune on everything he needed for Luna but he was thankful for all of your help and knowledge. After loading everything into his truck, he said it was a good thing he didn’t bring the bike which made you crack a slight smile.

“So don’t forget, Luna’s appointment is at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon and the address is on that business card I gave you so don’t lose it. Actually, give me your phone…” You demanded.

He handed his phone over to you and you dialed your number so he had it in case he lost the card.

“Just in case. I’ll see ya around Brock Rumlow and if you need anything else for Luna, you know where to find me!” You said.

You watched him drive away until his truck turned the corner and he was out of sight. Brock’s little pup was just as cute as could be but you couldn’t stop thinking about her owner. The rasp to his voice, muscles visible under his tight black t-shirt, and every time he looked at you with those whiskey colored eyes, you felt a flutter in your stomach that was familiar but you haven’t felt in a long time.

You hoped that he would come back because you definitely have a crush on Brock Rumlow.

The Next Day

The day was moving along, the shop was busy from the minute you opened until around 2:30 when it started to slow down a little. A steady stream of customers came in and when you glanced at the clock, it read 3:30.

Luna’s appointment was in an hour.

What were you doing? Daydreaming about a man you spent an hour with picking out stuff for his new puppy? But he was so handsome and sexy…thinking about him was helping the time go by faster.

Around 5:30, the bell on the door rang. You were in the back trying to clean up the bath stations. For people who didn’t want to wash their dogs at home, you had an area in the back of the store that they could come and wash their dog for a fair price. They didn’t have to buy shampoo or anything but you would make money on people not wanting to wash their dog at home. It was a win-win.

Drying your hands on your apron, you walked toward the front of the store and you saw Brock standing in the middle of the open floor, holding one end of a leash and at the other end was little Luna. She started to wag her tail as soon as she saw you.

You felt a dip in your stomach as soon as you saw Brock. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and dark jeans and you hoped he didn’t notice you blushing so you crouched down to the floor to pet Luna.

“It’s nice to see you again too, y/n.” Brock said sarcastically.

You had scooped up Luna in your arms and she was licking the tip of your nose.

“Oh you are even cuter than your picture…yes you are! I’m sorry, Brock. I’m gonna go for the puppy every time, just to warn you.” You said with a wink. “How did it go at the vet’s office?”

Brock went through Luna’s entire appointment. They weighed her, estimated that she was around three months old, and gave her all of her necessary shots. He even told you that you were right about the type of dog she is.

“Well…I do know my dogs!” You said. “But she’s ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s fine. I just figured since I was in the neighborhood, I’d stop by so you could meet her.” Said Brock.

Still holding Luna, you looked at her as she licked your nose again and said, “Well, I’m glad you did because she is just the cutest thing. I can see why you couldn’t just leave her when you found her.”

“Just don’t go around tellin’ everyone I’m soft for cute faces.” He said with a wink.

Warmth spread across your chest and the tops of your cheeks. Brock was making you blush again and you needed to distract him before he noticed.

“While you’re here, do you need anything else for little Luna?” You asked, scratching behind her ears.

“I think I’m good, doll.” Said Brock.

The pet name made you blush again.

“Ok, well don’t be a stranger. Stop in whenever you need something or if you have any questions.” You said with a warm smile.

Brock waved as you watched him and Luna walk out the door. Well, you had hoped that he would come back but now you wanted to see him again.

You’ve had plenty of good looking male customers come in and none of them had made you blush like Brock had. What was it about Brock that had you so smitten with him? You knew it couldn’t JUST be the dog.

He was mysterious and acted tough but he was sweet too. You felt comfortable around him and he had a slight smile on his face when you were playing with Luna; you had a feeling that he wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed.

**********

Over the next few weeks, Brock would stop into the shop and sometimes it would be more than once a week. He would either buy Luna a new toy or a new bone to chew on and he picked up some orange cleaner recently because she would still have an accident every once in awhile but he said she was getting used to crate training.

Sometimes he’d come in to ask you things he could have easily found out for himself but maybe it was just because he liked talking to you. You couldn’t be sure though, but you were very sure you enjoyed talking to him.

The texts started coming in not too long after meeting Luna for the first time. One of them was a picture of her outside of the shower and the picture was taken from inside the shower…by Brock. You clenched your thighs together at the thought of him taking a shower.

He captioned the picture…

“She won’t give me any alone time.Always has to be by my side.”

You smiled at the picture he sent and replied,

“Awwww, she loves you.”

And you also replied with a picture of Charlie, sleeping in between your legs with the caption…

“If he could crawl inside me to sleep, he totally would.”

He replied with a laughing emoji.

You could always tell when Brock came to the shop right from work because of how he was dressed. He wore all black tactical clothing and you definitely enjoyed the view of him in that tight black t-shirt.

You asked a few times but Brock never told you what he did for work; he always jokingly said it was “classified” so you didn’t push too hard about it.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Rumlow? Luna didn’t eat another remote control, did she?” You asked, chuckling a little.

Brock pressed his lips into a straight line and narrowed his eyes at you. “Very funny, y/n and no she didn’t eat another remote control. She has been really good the past couple of weeks, I think she’s getting used to being left alone and knows I’m eventually coming back.”

“Well that’s good. So did you need something?” You asked.

“Yeah I wanted to take her to socialize and play with other dogs. Figured you might know a place I can go.” Said Brock.

The two of you had been dancing around each other for weeks, being flirtatious through texts and in person when he would stop by but he hadn’t made a move so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Actually, I was gonna take Charlie to the dog park tomorrow afternoon, if you and Luna would like to come.” You said, watching your corgi chase after the clumsy Luna.

Brock watched as the two dogs played with each other, running circles around the two of you and playfully barking at each other.

“They seem to get along, huh.” He said with a smirk. “Yeah, the dog park sounds great.”

You told him where it was and agreed to meet there tomorrow. It wasn’t exactly the date you had in mind but you would use any excuse to see Brock outside of the shop. It would be the first time seeing him NOT wearing your work apron covered in wet dog hair.

As he called for Luna, the door to the shop opened and a tall man with a couple of scars on his face walked in and called out to Brock.

“You kept it, didn’t you! I fuckin’ knew it!” The man said, pointing at Brock.

You bit back a smile. “A friend of yours?” You asked.

Brock rolled his eyes at the man walking toward him then turned to you and replied, “Yeah…we work together…you followed me here, Rollins?!”

“Where is it?” Asked Jack, looking around.

“SHE is playing with Charlie somewhere around here.” Replied Brock. “I’m sorry, y/n. Lemme just…I’ll be right back.”

Before Jack could reach the counter, Brock cut him off. You managed to make out part of their conversation.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Jack?!” Brock asked.

A sly smile played across Jack’s lips as he looked at you then back to Brock.

“Well, I wanted to know why you kept blowin’ off after work drinks with the team but now I know why. You keepin’ her from us too? She’s hot. That apron is really doin’ it for me.” Said Jack.

Brock pointed at Jack.

“Will you keep your voice down! She’ll hear you.” He said, angrily.

“Alright, alright you don’t have to get all bent about it. I’m just sayin’ you should make a move or else I’m gonna. Maybe I should get a dog.” Said Jack, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you get outta here!” Brock said, glaring at Jack.

Brock introduced you to Jack before he left and confirmed your “date” for late tomorrow afternoon. You had butterflies in your stomach for the rest of the day and couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

From what you gathered from his conversation with Jack, it sounded like maybe Brock had a crush on you too.

Scratching Charlie’s ears, you said “We both have dates tomorrow, Charlie. You better be a good boy or else Luna isn’t gonna want to play with you anymore.”

Charlie licked your hand and cuddled up in his bed that was behind the counter. Apparently, chasing Luna around the store, took a lot out of him. He needed his rest if he was going to try and keep up with a puppy tomorrow.

**********

The dog park was no place for nice clothes. There were pups everywhere, kicking up dirt, putting their paws on you, and trying to trip you up as they ran in circles around you. But you still wanted to look good so you put on a black t-shirt, jeans and black sneakers.

You were also thankful it hadn’t rained lately so you wouldn’t have to walk through mud or worry about Charlie rolling in it, although he always needed a bath when you brought him home from the park anyway.

As you opened the fence gate, you scanned the park for Brock and Luna. It usually wasn’t very busy at this time, more than likely because it was prime time for cooking dinner. You found Brock sitting on a picnic table bench and throwing a ball for Luna to fetch and bring back.

He had a genuine smile on his face as he continued to play with her and he looked incredibly sexy in his gray t-shirt, jeans, and aviator sunglasses.

Charlie saw Luna, and as fast as his little legs could take him, took off running toward her. Biting down on your lower lip, you glanced quickly at Brock, and immediately felt your ears start to get hot.

You walked over to the picnic table and gave him a warm smile as he removed his sunglasses to look at you. His eyes were a warm gold color in the sunlight.

“Hey there…come here often?” You joked.

Brock cracked a little smile. “Are you full of jokes every Saturday, y/n?”

“Oh you know it! I leave my shop in good hands so I can have weekends off.” You replied.

“Ah, so you’re free on weekends.” Brock stated with a sly smile.

You heard what Brock had said but got distracted by Charlie rolling in something about 20 feet away.

“CHARLIE!! NO!! STOP THAT!!” You shouted at him as you turned to Brock and said, “I swear they always find the grossest things to roll in. He probably found a dead frog or something just as disgusting. Has she done anything like that to you yet? It is so foul!”

He started to laugh.

“I gotta tell ya, doll…you really do make me laugh and that ain’t easy to do.” Brock said softly, leaning in close enough to share the same air.

His compliment made you blush and he didn’t take his eyes off of you. The warmth from the late afternoon sun touched the high points of your face as you gently brushed your thumb against the bristles of his days old stubble and your lips ghosted over his before you said in barely more than a whisper, “Well I’d like to do it more often…if that’s ok.”

And you gently pressed your lips to his. Tension gripped your body and you became lightheaded with fear as you slowly pulled away, wondering if he felt the same way. A trace of a smile stretched across his lips as he leaned in to kiss you this time.

“I’d like that, sweetheart. I think we should be watching the dogs though, shouldn’t we?” Asked Brock.

“Then stop kissing me.” You replied with a sly smile.

“Oh I don’t wanna do that.” Brock husked against your lips. “But I do wanna take you out…without the dogs.”

Batting your eyelashes and jokingly clutching your chest, you asked, “Without the dogs? Well whatever will we do without them?”

Biting down on his lower lip, Brock eyed you from head to toe and brought his gaze back up to meet yours. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

He kissed you on the cheek before whispering into your ear, “Oh I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @k-marzolf @gijos @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @redstarsandnightmares @randomlittleimp

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

[bitch-butter]

POV ask of the Messy Au

ahh i don't want to spoil pretty from the back too much, but here's a quick imagining of webgott's Official meeting in pretty on the inside.

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

The cold was bracing, even all the way down to his marrow, and he slumped against it thankfully, trying to decide whether he'd smoke this cig faster or slower. It was getting easier, showing up sober-ish, but he still missed the hot flush of nothingness at the back of his tongue, being unable to tell whether he was having a good time or a bad time. Gene was being uncharacteristically kind, but then so was everyone as he closed in on a year of...whatever this was.

A whole year. A whole year, the sound of it in his ears like cream off the top of fresh milk, like metal scraping over violin strings.

Like -

The light in Babe and Gene's kitchen was broken abruptly, the warm box of it going dark and shattering into a human form, and suddenly he wasn't alone. Leaning out the window was the wayward kid from last time, the lost boy that Toye felt bad enough to invite into their sorry band of ne'er do wells. Joe had known he didn't belong from the fucking jump with his hair and his face caught between the inside and the outside, blue and orange shapes only catching the edges of his beauty. He'd been shocked the other guys seemed to take to the guy - Webster - as fast as they did, but then Joe always did take an extra ten minutes to warm up to anyone. The bitch flower sometimes only needs an extra ten to sufficiently bloom, so at the very least he gets a full picture.

And here Webster was again, poking his head out from the window with a curious expression on his handsome face, and Joe admitted he found himself surprised.

“You’re back,” he said, unable to think of what else to say, feeling bizarrely pleased. 

Webster nodded. “I’m back," he replied, and his voice was a rich plume of fog in the cold air, the breadth of it stretching out towards Joe like it wanted to lay itself across his face.  

He sounded proud of himself, and Joe huffed out a low sound, smiling in spite of himself. “We didn’t scare you off,” he said, and couldn't help but sound impressed even to his own ears. Webster would not have been the first sad-eyed twunk they chased off with their codependent antics, so the fact that the guy came back for more was worthy of a certain degree of pleasure and alarm. The guy must be some kind of glutton for punishment.

A somewhat ugly sound snorted its way out of Webster's nose, and Joe could see him perfectly in his minds eye: ivy-leagued, sweater-vested, perpetual virgin, trying desperately to impress. “Not a lot scares me," he said wryly, and oddly Joe could detect a note of sincerity.

Bringing his cig up for a long drag, Joe held the other man's eyes in his own, their color washed out by the shadows. Maybe he could give this one a chance. Anybody that at least wants to pretend that they aren't intimidated is at least worthy of a secondary glance, a bit more than just the cursory dismissal Joe affords people.

It doesn't hurt that his long dead libido - currently enrobed in full funerary garb after having to relearn how to have and use pleasure sensors effectively - is threatening to rise from the grave at the sight of the guys face. Joe's first instinct upon feeling attraction for another person is to go completely still, but outside of Jurassic Park that's never been an effective game plan really, so what could it hurt extending an interaction that he could feasibly jerk off to later?

Jerking off to this would truly mean he was beyond help. Eh, who cares?

“That’s good to know,” he said, voice pitched downward, hoping to draw the kid out. “Joe Liebgott,” he introduced, extending his cig-free hand.

“I know,” Webster nodded, taking his hand in a firm grip that Joe would absolutely not think about later. “David Webster.”

“I know,” he mimicked, holding his hand perhaps a bit longer than necessary before releasing him, the warmth of the other man's palm sticking against him like golden honey. He distracted himself from Webster's idling by taking another pull on his smoke, trying not to watch the guy too closely as he glanced from the kitchen and back to Joe, breath billowing in front of him once again.

“Were you all guessing I wouldn't be around this long?” Webster asked, quiet but curious, strangely high and low at once.

Joe expelled a burst of a laugh, all smoke in the night air. “That’s putting it mildly,” he said, the smoke catching in his throat with the chill of the night, and Webster gave him an unimpressed look; brow raised, mouth pursed, and he glanced back into the kitchen.

In the warm glow of the apartment his eyes went bright blue, and their color shot out at him like the Northern lights. They were a rolling wave over him, and the coldness of his hands became less acute, the sting of his cheeks tempered by the warmth of the other man's waters. Suddenly he missed California, missed summer skies, missed the way the air seemed clear and distinct in the mountains.

Webster's eyes held all these things, and Joe felt abruptly as though he knew him very well. Even deeper than their loveliness he could see something down, down, down, far towards the very bottom that called out to him. Hunger. Pain. Longing.

Your eyes, your eyes, your eyes, he thought.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Webster said abruptly, the Harvard brat once more, and he gave Joe a sharp, petulant sniff before shoving off of the ledge and escaping back into the light of the kitchen. “See you later,” he tossed over his shoulder, already gone.

Joe missed his presence, found that he wanted more. And that was always a dangerous pastime for him, wanting more. Wanting more led him down long hallways, through doors that lead to other doors, to trouble, to the greatest of adventures and the most exquisite pain.

“See you,” he said softly, mind already turning with possibilities, with the feeling of looking down from a great height.

Aright, David Webster, he though to himself, pulling on his dying smoke. You're on.