#because it just looks like she's howling with her mouth open like that

[porcelainseashore]

Summer Solstice - Beach Episode by Night

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: My “drabble” (inspired by a music ask) for the lovely @beach-episode-by-night event. A heartfelt thank you to @mortifying-macaroni and @alibellerosetta whom I dedicate this piece to. Your encouragement made it possible.

Along the I-10 highway to Tucson, Wynter takes a detour toward the coastline on impulse, chasing the memory of a bygone summer’s day.

Content Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, references to murder, wraith, pre-canon, weird uncle/niece relationship, blame it on the Giovanni.

How long has it been?

The chime sounded as she left the car door open with her keys in the ignition, monotonous, comforting yet cajoling her to do something about it. It didn’t matter; hers was the lone automobile on the desolate street. If someone wanted this piece of junk, they’d earn the right by swiping it off her hands behind her back.

In the tepid late October air, Wynter had taken a detour off the I-10 toward the Gulf Coast on a whim, with the windows rolled down because the air conditioner wasn’t working—it never did. Closer to the basin, the smell of brine from the Atlantic hit her tenfold. She had been swimming in her thoughts, her reflexes on autopilot, as if she remembered the route by heart. That was the question, what did she remember? Why had she come here, when she had spent the last two decades running off and reinventing herself, just like her estranged sire, Violetta, taught her to?

Instead of answering, she faced away from the wind, lashes downturned and fluttering, as she cupped her hand over her mouth, lighting up a cigarette and ignoring the faint protests of her Beast. The wind was still as violent as she’d left it. Heeled boots crunched into gravel, which finally opened out to soft mounds of sand. She wasn’t in a hurry; she had time to kill, even with her battered, old Honda that was on its last legs. 

The Prince could wait. 

What was a couple of USB sticks that he desired good for? They lay stuffed and suffocated in her worn-down satchel—one she’d found while rummaging through the trash—with its straps chewed and frayed at the ends. Maybe just enough for emergency repairs and a meal or two, if she was lucky.

From afar, she could make out the salt-stripped cafes, gaudy tiki bars with their balding straw roofs, and a row of little wooden clapboard houses, paint-chipped and peeling, along the boardwalk. Weather-beaten “For sale” and “We’re closed!” signs hung awkwardly from the establishments, some on their last nail, swaying to and fro, creaking in the breeze. Her gaze trailed over the tired beach chairs, deflated pool toys, and broken surfboards. A smattering of them had found their way across the divide, acting like driftwood in the sea.

The sound of children’s giggles and bare feet pattering on the floorboards echoed in the distance. She gripped her bag tight, but did not look back. Her shoes were sinking into the wet sand now, and the air carried warm moisture which settled beneath the layer of clothes onto her skin. Her very own form of sweat.

The moon illuminated her path, but at the edge of the ocean, she was at a loss for what to do. Why was she here? What had called her? How—

“Wynter,” it whispered, balmy in the zephyr. “Why don’t you come out to play?”

She shielded her eyes, as though blinded by the brilliant sun, peering out into the vast space before her. And there he was, clear as day, in his light blue shorts and a roseate burn creeping through his tanned back, wading toward her in the water. Earlier, she had been sulking under the beach umbrella while her mother flipped through a magazine and her father chatted jovially with other men over rounds of drinks at the bar.

The wind was howling. Fine, white sand swirled in the current. She didn’t like how hot it got under her feet. Everything hurt. But for Lucien, she would bear through it all. His smile ached as she splashed into the water, salt clinging to her lips and foam gathering in the tendrils of her hair. She took a deep breath and dived, dipping under the waves of the high tide. A strong pair of arms entangled around her waist as she was drawn out of the sea, and she wriggled to break free of their grasp while her uncle chuckled. And soon, she was laughing too.

“My very own mermaid,” he murmured. 

Wynter bared her teeth and hissed, “But I will drown you and taste your flesh.”

He touched her chin, smiling sadly. “Well, it would be worth it, to me.”

She didn’t think anything of it then, bounding out of Lucien’s embrace and paddling through the waters. That day, under the cloudless sky and the sun’s rays glittering beyond the horizon, she felt how magnificent it was to be alive. Glancing over at Lucien, she paused, meeting his eyes, shifting azure blue, watching the droplets trickle down his brow. The waves crashed on shore. Seagulls crooned overhead. Time whiled away in silence. Their eyes searching for a morsel they could hold on to. Years of an unspoken bond buried in a look. He believed in it then, how pure and indescribable it was. And the curve of his mouth reflected hers.

For all the trials he would be put through, he’d gladly suffer, even if there was no end in sight. She waded closer to him, the water now reaching waist-high. But it was murky. Her cigarette butt had gone out, leaving traces of the woody scent of dark tobacco in the air, but even that too was fading. Instead of the heat of the sun beating down her back, she encountered the cool, umbral glow of the moon, iridescent on her bloodless skin. She wanted it to burn her alive.

Her Beast recoiled at the mere thought of seeing the light of day, but Wynter entertained it for a moment longer, savoring the fear, the way the light extinguished in someone’s eyes before they expired.

“Let me drown with you,” she prayed, the flicker of an unearthly sheen present in her eyes.

In her peripheral vision, a shadow flitted between the steel scaffolding of the once-grandiose pier, now in a state of irreversible decay, rusting to the elements. She remembered standing there as a child, sick from cotton candy, and the noise of the fairground rides flooding her ears. A postcard marred with heavy creases—one of the many within the bundle she had stashed in her glove compartment. She held it out in front of the pier, shutting one eye and squinting, then doing the same with the other. 

Every year, she received a blank card, the address scribbled in handwriting she didn’t recognize. Regardless of whether she stayed at a temporary residence or relied on throwaway collection points dotted across the country, they arrived without fail. “Wish you were here’s” by the ghost of a loved one on perpetual vacation. Places she had been to. Places she had dreamed of. This time, a picturesque painting of the old pier at dawn. 

It could have been a trap, but she found it strangely comforting, knowing she had a place to come back to, observing the swell and receding waves until she would be nothing more than ashes floating on the surface at the break of day. Kindred talked about death as if it were so final, but to her, death was only the beginning. A concrete structure on the pier groaned, loosening from its bolt before collapsing into the sea. The sound and vibrations were tremendous, but Wynter didn’t flinch.

How long could she drag this out? How much more could she keep on going?

For a while, she had been aware of a presence watching her, but made no sign to acknowledge its existence. It was tempting to seek it out, as was the habit of being a hunter, but she decided otherwise. The Shroud was thin here. Mortals had long since abandoned this place. Yet some remained. 

There was a deep rooted tingle in her spine. She had overstayed her welcome; she should leave, but not before—

The postcard slipped from her fingers, drifting in the stream until she lost sight of it. A featherlight kiss on the nape of her neck. She shuddered again and closed her eyes. When they opened, she checked the time on her cracked iPhone screen. 

Without a word, she followed her tracks back to her awaiting car, the chime still ringing incessantly. She hopped in and drove off, leaving whatever had happened that day behind. 

The Prince of Tucson couldn’t wait any longer.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[crazyk-imagine]

Pack

Pairing: Jacob Black x Uley!reader

Characters: Jacob Black, Uley!reader, Paul Lahote, Jared Cameron, Embry Call, Leah Clearwater, Seth Clearwater, Quil Ateara V, Brady Fuller, Collin Littlesea

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Paul being an idiot again, it got cuter, Jake had a brain, Emily is an angel, Sam and Emily are my fav, Embry just wants his imprint, Paul is such a big brother here, love writing for the wolfpack, reader knows about imprint history, reader worries about Jake not having feelings for her, Jared is an idiot, Emily is that mom

Word Count: 2,431

A/N: Okay my fellow readers, I did it. I finally sat down and did part two

*will be edited at a later time

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

It was a hard few days after, well, learning that you were forever bonded to him.

You didn’t quite know what the right move was or if you should consider dating Jacob, even though he had clearly been in love with the whitest girl in Forks.

You gulp as you take a step back. “Could you,” you sigh, not wanting to lose it on the guy when he’s been nothing but nice to you since this whole thing happened. “Jake.”

He wasn’t paying attention and stepped closer to you again, wanting to get more bacon on his plate.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Jake! Would you please get out of my way before I declaw your paws!”

Jared glances back at the two of you, with a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth.

Paul doesn’t do anything to hide his amusement, much to Jacob’s chagrin. “Looks like the princess finally showed off her claws.”

He pats his pack mate’s shoulder, “glad it wasn’t your face that took the brunt of it.” Paul steps away, grabbing the muffin off your plate as he goes to sit down.

You shake your head; definitely not your finest moment. You don’t want to look at him because you don’t want to see his disappointment.

Jacob clears his throat, “we’re going to go outside.”

You open your mouth to argue as a piece of toast is shoved into your mouth.

-

“I bet that’s not what she imagined getting-” Paul doesn’t need to turn around to know his alpha is staring at him. He bolts out of the chair before anyone can take a breath.

“Paul, get back here.”

The hot head shakes his head as he shifts mid air, running into the woods.

Emily shakes her head sighing.

Jared nods, “I know. I don’t know why Paul thinks he won’t be reprimanded for saying things like that. I mean clearly, she’s going to be the dom over Jake, not the-”

He sheepishly smiles at the angry face his luna is making. “I didn’t mean it,” he sprints out the door. He looks over his shoulder and calls out the her, whining, “don’t call my mom.”

She smiles, picking up her landline, punching in the numbers. “Hi Mrs. Cameron, it’s Emily.”

A sad wolf howl can be heard from the side of the house.

-

You let him drag you out, unsure of what else to do as you feel down about how you behaved a few minutes ago. You pull the piece of toast out from your mouth. “If you’ve brought me here to kill me, just do it already.”

He scoffs, “I’m not a leech.”

“Oh, he has a heart, how wonderful.”

He rolls his eyes, “would it kill you to act normal?”

You immediately nod, “yes it would and how am I supposed to act normal when none of this is normal.”

He opens his mouth to say something when he realizes you’re right. “Okay fine, maybe none of this is normal but that doesn’t mean you need to act like it’s the end of the world.”

You scoff, “I’m not.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe,” he crosses his arms.

You can’t hold this in anymore.

“You know what, Jake. I’m tired. I’m so sick and tired of this- everything is so crazy and wrong and I,” you close your eyes, not wanting him to see you cry.

You lower your head, holding your breath, trying to keep yourself together.

He can sense your sadness and reaches for you, placing his hand on your arm.

You hiccup, taking a deep breath.

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer; his body heat warming you in a second.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, to calm yourself enough so you could talk to him without losing control of your emotions.

You can admit sometimes it does help to have a good crying session, but not when you need to talk.

He can tell with how slower your back is moving under his hand that you've managed to calm yourself down. He doesn't say anything to not startle you or break your concentration. He won't do that to you.

“I'm scared,” you mumble.

“Scared of what?”

You want to pull back so you can look into his eyes but you're afraid he won't understand and squeeze him tighter. “This isn't real.”

He opens his mouth to respond and stops, letting your words sink in. He can understand where you're coming from with him being in love with Bella for more than half of his young life but he also knows that this is real. Yes-

He sighs, lowering his chin to rest it on top of your head. “I know this doesn't seem real but it is. My love for Bella has nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

He squeezes you in a tight hug and pulls back. “I know things are all happening fast but I want us to work. You know, I- I can be whatever you want me to be. I can be a- a friend or a brother or more. I don't care as long as I can be in your life. We haven’t known each other long but I do know that I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone that wasn't my family or, now the pack.”

He sucks in a nervous breath, showing off his pearly whites with his commonly new nervous grin. “I hope I didn't make things weird with that whole um-”

“Speech?” You interrupt.

He nods, “yeah that.”

You purse your lips to hide your amusement. “I,” you sigh. “I have more feelings for you than I thought I would, I'm not entirely sure what they are exactly. I know the bond isn't the whole reason why I feel the way I do but- I- if we're going to start, whatever this is going to be, this needs to start off slow. I don't just jump into things especially when it comes to starting a new relationship with someone.”

“So we're starting a new relationship?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes and smack him with your piece of toast. “God, you're just like a guy.”

“I am a guy.”

“Not right now you are. You're mister professing his love,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me.” He sits down on a rock nearby, patting the open spot beside you. “I don't want to rush into anything either and I don't want to mess this up... more than I already have-”

You stand in front of him, shaking your head. “You haven't messed anything up.”

“I did. If I didn't you wouldn't have screamed at me-”

“I didn't scream.”

He owlishly blinks. “My ears were close to bleeding.”

Your jaw drops and you smack his arm. “You're so dramatic.”

“Not always.”

You roll your eyes, “sometimes you are.”

He nods, “yeah, I’ll admit that sometimes I am.”

You take a bite of your toast.

“I don’t know how that thing has lasted this entire time.”

You shrug, “I don’t either but here we are.” You slowly lean against him, resting your head on his warm shoulder. “You’re so warm.”

“I bet he could think of another way to warm you up.”

You roll your eyes at Paul’s comment. “Go suck Jared’s-”

Your uncle, still in his wolf form, growls at the two of you.

You take another bite of your toast and look away. “He started it,” you mumble while chewing.

“Let it go,” Jacob advises. “Or else he’ll make you do things you don’t want to do.”

You shake your head, enjoying the scene of Paul trying to run away from his alpha as Jared is on the floor cackling with Embry and Quil joining after the man falls face first into the dirt.

Brady and Collin trail behind the two boys, confused at the sight before them.

-

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here.” You sigh, throwing your head back against the couch.

“It’s not that bad.”

Your snaps towards Jacob, glaring at him. “I am sicker than- well you know.”

He stares at you with a deadpan expression. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

He nods, happy to see you finally agreeing with him.

“I’m a comedian.” You smile at him before coughing more, your sides start hurting more.

He carefully sits down beside you and hands you your cup of tea.

You breathe in the hot steam for a few minutes before taking a careful sip of the hot beverage.

He doesn’t stare at you (like you’d caught him doing a couple days ago, he doesn’t want you yelling at him again) and waits for you to ask him to set the mug on the table beside him.

He turns at the weight of your head resting against his shoulder and smiles softly at you as you close your eyes and breath in the steam.

His ears pick up on your slow breathing and he grabs the mug from you before you can drop it in your lap. He adjusts himself so you can lay on him, letting you use him as your “personal heater” as you said earlier.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken you out of the house and to the cliffs without a jacket the other day but he can’t deny, he likes you relying on him to take care of you.

He brushes away the few strands of fallen hair out of your face, studying your sleepy expression.

He thanks all the stars that aligned to make you his imprint, you are more than he could have ever wanted in a person. He knows now, as he listens to your breathing, his feelings for Bella are nothing compared to what he feels for you and will continue to feel for you.

He realizes he lied, he can’t be the kind of guy who’s like a brother or a friend to you.

He wants more; the wolf inside him needs more.

He would walk hundreds if not thousands of miles to be the only one to have a romantic relationship with you. He will wait as long as it takes until you feel ready to give your heart to him and chase off anyone he needs to.

He’s yours as you will (hopefully, fingers crossed) be his.

He can’t help himself as he leans forward and pecks your forehead, silently promising to spend his forever with you. 

Extra

Jared walks into your room, searching for Jacob. He needs help with his bike, hell if he knew how to describe what was happening to it.

His jaw drops, surprised to see you bundled in Jacob’s hold. He creeps into the room, practically tip-toeing to the person he needs to talk to.

He bends down and pokes Jacob’s shoulder.

The shifter barely opens his eyes as he lifts his arm to smack Jared in the back of the head, who opens his mouth to whine but is stopped by his friend covering his mouth.

“Make a sound and you’re dead.”

Jared nods, thankful for his shifter healing abilities; if he didn’t have them, he’d have a headache by now. “I need a favor.”

“You need a lot of things.”

Jared rolls his eyes, “okay, that’s fair but I need you to look at my bike.”

“Why?”

“It’s making that weird noise again.”

"Describe it to me."

“No. You made fun of me last time.”

“Fine, if I promise to not make fun of you, will you help describe it so I can figure out your issue.”

“I,” he sighs. “Roo- reer- r-” He stops when Jacob snickers. “You told me you-”

Jared falls on his back and struggles to understand what happened.

The door slams shut up the two boys.

“I told you not to go in there,” says Emily.

“You told me not to wake her,” Jared corrects her.

“And how did that work for you?”

The shifter stomps his feet as he walks down the stairs.

Jacob cackles at his friend's behavior.

“And look what the cat dragged in,” she teases him.

“Hardy-har.”

“I told him not to go in, I knew she’d kick you two out.”

He shrugs, “I know, I mean it was kind of my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have messed with Jarhead.”

“Is that princess’ new nickname?”

“Paul, shut up with that stupid nickname,” you shout from inside your room.

“Hey your voice is coming back,” the hothead comments.

You roll your eyes and open your door, glaring at one of your best friends. “Paul Isabel Lahote-”

“My middle name isn’t-”

“I know your middle name isn’t a girl's name,” you huff. “But your dumbass won’t shut up about this and I can’t take it anymore. You need to shut up so I can feel better.”

“Screaming like that won’t help you.”

You take a step forward and he takes off.

Emily shakes her head, “you’re just like your uncle.”

“Runs in the family, Em.”

Jacob steps forward and blocks your path from Paul. “You’re going back to bed.”

“But-”

He shakes his head, “bed.”

You sigh, “fine.” You sadly walk back into your room.

“Jake, tell me what you did. I can barely get her to help me be my wingman,” Embry whines.

“No one can help that.”

“You all are so rude.”

“We never claimed to be nice,” you say, voice muffled because of the door.

“I’m getting that now. I don’t even know why I shifted now.”

“You had no choice.”

“Shut up.”

Emily shakes her head at the sight of her kids (yes, she’s officially claimed you all) messing around with one another. 

Previously: Part I

-

Taglist

@kmc1989 @gilbertgirl13

[pucksandpower]

Help, My Cat Drank My Red Bull!

Max Verstappen x veterinarian!Reader

Summary: in which Sassy gets into an open can of Max’s energy drink and inadvertently leads Max to the love of his life

Max sighs as he exits the sim-rig, stretching his arms over his head. After a few intense hours of virtual racing, he could use a pick-me-up.

He wanders into the kitchen, spotting the full can of Red Bull he had left on the counter earlier.

Perfect.

But as Max reaches for the energy drink, something catches his eye — a sticky puddle on the granite countertop where the can should be. He leans in, sniffing cautiously. The unmistakable sweet scent of Red Bull wafts up.

“What the ...” His voice trails off as a blur of tan fur darts past the corner of his vision.

Sassy skids into view. Her pupils are dilated to the size of marbles and she’s practically vibrating with excess energy. Max’s jaw drops as the realization hits.

“No, no, you didn’t ...”

But the evidence is irrefutable. Sassy must have knocked over the can and lapped up every sugary drop.

Max runs a hand through his curls, panic rising. Too much caffeine could be incredibly dangerous for a cat her size. He needs to get her to a vet right away, but at — he checks his watch — 2:14 in the morning, his usual clinic will be closed.

“Come here, Sassy!” He calls, slowly advancing on the hyper feline.

But Sassy just stares at him, unblinking, before bolting in the opposite direction with a manic burst of speed. Max gives chase, cursing under his breath as she darts around furniture and ricochets off walls. After several frantic minutes of pursuit, he finally manages to corner the cat and scoop her into a carrier.

Sassy yowls in protest as Max secures the door, but he has no choice. He grabs his keys and races down to the parking garage, carefully settling the carrier into the passenger seat of his bright red Ferrari before peeling out toward the nearest emergency vet clinic.

The drive seems to take an eternity with Sassy howling the whole way. Max’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he haphazardly parks outside the clinic and jumps out, slamming the door behind him.

Only to stop dead a few steps later, the realization crashing over him like a wave. In his haste, he left the cat in the car.

“Shit!” Max spins on his heel, cheeks burning as he hurries back and grabs the carrier, cradling it awkwardly against his chest.

He strides through the front doors of the clinic, the receptionist looking up in surprise at his abrupt entrance.

“Please,” Max gasps out, eyes wide. “My cat, she drank a whole can of Red Bull. What do I do?”

The receptionist’s brows knit together briefly before her features smooth into a professional mask. “Okay sir, please have a seat in exam room three. The doctor will be right with you.”

Max nods frantically, hurrying down the hallway as directed and gently depositing the carrier on the exam table. He resumes his pacing, running anxious hands through his hair.

After what feels like an eternity, the door finally opens. But the person who walks in absolutely takes Max’s breath away.

You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. From your cascading locks to your warm eyes, Max can’t tear his gaze away. Your figure is highlighted by pale blue scrubs as you cross the room, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. What seems to be the trouble?”

Max’s throat is suddenly, inexplicably dry. He clears it harshly. “U-uh, hi. I’m Max. Max Verstappen. My cat, Sassy, she — well, I had a can of Red Bull out and she must have knocked it over because when I came back, it was empty but the counter was sticky and then she was just … super hyper and crazy ...”

His words stumble to a halt as you lean over, gently pulling the still-feisty Sassy from her carrier and depositing her on the table. You murmur soothingly, stroking her soft fur as you examine her dilated pupils and elevated pulse.

“Hmm, yes, it does sound like she’s had a bit too much caffeine.” You shoot Max a reassuring smile that makes his heart skip a beat. “Not to worry though, we’ll get her taken care of.”

As you deftly slip a mild sedative into the crook of Sassy’s leg, Max can’t help but watch in awe at how gentle and caring you are. He’s never seen someone so compassionate and loving toward an animal before.

Within minutes, the sedative takes effect and Sassy transforms from a blur of frantic energy to a lazy puddle of fur, watching the room with heavy-lidded eyes. You scratch between her ears, lips quirked.

“There we go, that’s better. She’ll be feeling pretty groggy for the next little while as the caffeine works its way out of her system.”

Max nods dumbly, completely mesmerized as you deftly check Sassy’s vitals again.

“Her temperature and heart rate are looking good. I’d just recommend keeping her awake and hydrated until the effects have fully worn off in six to eight hours, then she should be back to normal.”

“Okay, yeah. Thank you so much, really,” Max gushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was so worried when I realized what happened.”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Better to get these things checked out, just to be safe.” A teasing glint enters your expressive eyes. “Although, I have to ask — how exactly does a Red Bull can get knocked over and lapped up by a cat?”

Max feels his cheeks flush again as your gaze meets his, warm and friendly and so incredibly beautiful up close.

He clears his throat. “Uh, well, you see I was sim racing for a while and just left it out, which was dumb of me ...”

As he rambles through the explanation, Max can’t tear his eyes away from the crinkles that form around your eyes when you smile or the melodic lilt of your laughter. By the time he’s finished, he’s even more smitten than before.

An awkward silence falls as you finish up examining Sassy. You turn back to Max, expression soft.

“Well, it seems like your girl is going to be just fine. I’ll get the discharge paperwork ready for you.”

Your footsteps retreat toward the door and panic seizes Max’s chest. He can’t just let you walk away, not without at least trying ...

“Hey, uh, Dr. Y/N?” He calls out before he can overthink it.

You pause, eyebrows raised expectantly as you turn back.

Max suddenly can’t remember what he was going to say. His mind goes blank, palms growing sweaty, as he shuffles his feet. The words completely escape him as he’s overwhelmed by your warmth and beauty.

“I, uh … thanks again. For helping Sassy,” he stammers out instead, mentally kicking himself.

You smile patiently. “Of course, I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

An awkward silence stretches between you as Max wars internally, desperately trying to muster the courage to ask you out properly. But the moment slips away as you begin to turn back toward the door.

“Well, I’ll get those discharge papers ready for you.”

“Right, yeah, okay. Thanks ...” Max’s words trail off lamely as you exit the room.

He squeezes his eyes shut, smacking his forehead in frustration. He just completely blew his chance with the most incredible woman he’s ever met, all because he’s a bumbling idiot who can’t even form a simple sentence around someone that effortlessly beautiful and caring.

Max blows out a long breath, trying to refocus on the fact that Sassy is going to be alright, at least. As he carefully gathers her sleepy form back into her carrier, he can’t help the pang of regret that settles in his chest.

Maybe your paths will cross again someday under better circumstances. A guy can dream, right?

***

The next week drags by for Max in a blur of monotony. He finds his thoughts drifting constantly back to the emergency vet clinic, replaying his disastrous non-attempt at asking you out on a date. Just the memory of your radiant smile and warm eyes is enough to make his heart stutter.

But as the days pass with no sign of you around Monaco, Max’s hope slowly fades. Of course someone as incredibly kind, caring, and beautiful as you would never go for an awkward guy like him. He’s an idiot for thinking he even had a chance.

Exactly one week after the Red Bull incident with Sassy, Max is moping on his couch, idly stroking Jimmy as he channel surfs. He pauses on a cheesy romcom, watching with mild disdain as the bumbling male lead performs increasingly ridiculous stunts all for a chance to see his love interest again.

It’s utterly ridiculous. And yet … Max feels a strange sense of kinship with the hapless romantic on screen.

Because as he stares at the TV, a crazy idea begins to take shape. If he wants to see you again so badly, why not take a page from the movie’s playbook? With a jolt of determination, Max scoops up a disgruntled Jimmy and tucks him into his carrier.

“Looks like you’re coming with me on an adventure, buddy,” Max murmurs, grinning slightly at Jimmy’s unmistakable look of disdain. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while. I just need you to play along so I can see Y/N again. You’re going to help me make her yours and Sassy’s new mom.”

Jimmy yawns pointedly, seemingly unimpressed with Max’s romantic scheming. Max just chuckles, scratching the cat between the ears before grabbing his keys and heading for the garage.

He settles Jimmy’s carrier into the passenger seat of his Ferrari, the engine roaring to life under his expert control. As he navigates Monaco’s winding streets, Max keeps up a steady stream of conversation with his distinctly unreceptive feline audience.

“You’re going to love Y/N, I just know it,” he insists, pulling up to a red light. “She’s the kindest, most compassionate person I’ve ever met. The way she took care of Sassy with such patience and gentleness ...” Max shakes his head in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Jimmy blinks slowly at him, conveying an impressive blend of judgment and displeasure at being awake, much less participating in this ridiculous plan. Max just barrels onward.

“Look, I know this seems crazy. But Y/N … she’s just special, you know? And if this is what it takes to get to know her better, then I’m all in.”

He pulls up to the familiar sight of the clinic, parking much more calmly this time before grabbing Jimmy’s carrier and heading inside. The same receptionist from before looks up in surprise as he approaches.

“You again? Is everything okay with Sassy?”

Panic grips Max’s chest as he realizes he didn’t actually come up with an excuse for bringing Jimmy in beforehand. He scrambles for something, anything, to say.

“Uh, well, actually it’s Jimmy here who needs to be seen,” he rushes out, nodding toward the disgruntled cat. “You see, I was just, uh … brushing him earlier and he seemed great. But then I went to pick him up and it was like … bam!” Max mimes an explosion gesture. “Total f-fur explosion, just hair going everywhere! It was like he was … moulting, but not in the normal way, you know?”

By the time Max finishes, the receptionist is staring at him in bewilderment. He can feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck as she blinks slowly.

“A … fur explosion,” she repeats flatly.

“Exactly!” Max insists with a vigorous nod. “Just an absolute furpocalypse, you would not believe it. So I figured I’d better bring him in to get checked out, just in case?”

A beat passes as the receptionist seems to silently debate arguing with him further. Finally, she just shakes her head.

“Okay, well … go ahead and take Jimmy back to exam room three again. Dr. Y/L/N will be right with you.”

Max’s heart leaps into his throat at the mention of your name as he forces a polite smile and heads back down the hallway to the familiar room. He carefully lets Jimmy out to explore as they wait, praying fervently that you’ll actually be the one to walk through that door.

The minutes drag by in tense silence, Max gnawing nervously at his thumbnail. Just as he’s starting to think this was all a terrible idea, the door swings open and you step inside.

It’s like the world stops spinning for a moment. You are … breathtaking, even more gorgeous than Max remembered. From your tumbling locks of hair to the gentle curve of your smile, he’s completely mesmerized all over again.

You glance up from the chart in your hands, doing a slight double-take as you recognize Max.

“Well, hello again you!” Your voice is bright and melodic. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you back so soon. What happened?”

Your inquisitive gaze meets Max’s and he very nearly blurts out the entire truth right then and there — that he absolutely made up an excuse just for the chance to see you again. Somehow, he bites back the words at the last moment.

“Oh, uh, it was the weirdest thing,” he stammers instead, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was brushing Jimmy, my other cat, earlier and all of a sudden his fur just started … exploding everywhere! Like, full-on furmageddon. It was insane.”

He cringes inwardly at how stupid he sounds, watching as a crease forms between your brows in contemplation. After a moment, though, your features smooth out into an easy smile and you move closer to gently stroke Jimmy’s silky fur.

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?”

For the next several minutes, Max watches in rapt fascination as you thoroughly examine Jimmy from ears to tail, gentle hands ghosting over his fur as you murmur soothing reassurances. Just being in your presence is intoxicating.

You’re so caring and patient, even with the obviously fabricated reason Max invented to see you again. It only makes his growing infatuation burn all the brighter.

Finally, you straighten back up and turn to Max with a warm smile.

“Well, I can definitively say there was no fur explosion or moulting crisis with Mr. Jimmy here,” you tease lightly, arching one perfect eyebrow. “He seems perfectly healthy to me. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Your knowing look pins Max in place, cheeks flushing guiltily. He rubs at the back of his neck again, trying to decide if he should just come clean or stubbornly dig himself deeper into this ridiculous invented scenario.

But as he opens his mouth, ready to try and bumble through another excuse, something stops him. Maybe it’s the patient understanding in your warm gaze or the gentle amusement playing at the corners of your mouth. Or maybe it’s just Dutch stubbornness rearing its head.

Either way, Max’s words grind to a halt as he takes a deep, fortifying breath.

“You know what? I’m just going to put it all out there,” he blurts before he can second guess himself further. “The truth is … I made up this whole thing as an excuse to come see you again.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Max presses onward, suddenly unable to stem the flow of words.

“I tried to ask you out last week after you helped Sassy but I completely chickened out like an idiot. And I just … I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how caring and amazing you were.”

Max’s heart thunders in his ears as he runs an anxious hand through his hair.

“So, I don’t know, I got this stupid idea to bring Jimmy in so I could see you again. Which is insane, I know, and you probably think I’m some total weirdo stalker creep now but-”

“Max.” Your soft voice cuts through his panicked rambling like a lighthouse beam in the fog. “Breathe.”

He sucks in a shuddery breath, feeling his cheeks flush scarlet under your gaze. This is it, the moment you shut him down for being a complete crazy person and he has to slink out of here in shame. Maybe he can move to Timbuktu and become a goat herder to escape his humiliation-

“I have to admit, this is a new one for me,” you continue, a teasing lilt to your words. “Most guys don’t go to such elaborate lengths just to see me again.”

You take a step closer, eyes sparking with a hint of mischief that has Max’s breath catching in his throat.

“Though I have to say, faking a pet illness is definitely an … original move. Do you go to such dramatic extremes for all your romantic pursuits?”

Max can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the tightly-wound tension easing from his shoulders.

“No, I uh … you’re pretty definitively the first person I’ve literally made my cat an accomplice just to spend more time with.”

The laughter that bubbles up from you at that is bright and infectious, warmth blooming in Max’s chest as he drinks in the delighted crinkles at the corners of your eyes.

“Well, as harebrained schemes go, I suppose I’ve encountered worse,” you tease warmly. “Though in the future, you’re welcome to just ask me out like a normal person.”

A weighted pause hangs between you as realization dawns in Max’s thundering heart. Is this … is this your way of giving him that very opening?

He clears his throat roughly, feeling oddly like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, every molecule vibrating with anticipation and hope and sheer, pounding need.

“Does that mean … I mean, would you want to?” The words stick in his suddenly dry throat. “Go out with me, that is? On like … a date?”

The breath rushes from Max’s lungs in a dizzying whoosh as he finally gets the words out. He watches you intently, hands clenched into nervous fists as he waits for your response with bated breath.

For a moment, you’re quiet, considering him with an inscrutable expression. The silence seems to stretch into eternity, suffocating Max as a thousand worst-case scenarios start to race through his mind.

This is it, he’s blown it forever. You’re going to turn him down, probably with a gentle let-down about having to be professional or not dating clients or something. He’ll be crushed, forced to slink away and change his name and flee to the farthest reaches of Nepal to become a hermit and-

And then, finally, you smile. It’s soft and warm and sends relief crashing through Max in a blissful wave.

“You know what, Max? I would really like that.”

He blinks, feeling a little dizzy as the words bounce around his head. “You … you would?”

You laugh again, low and melodic, taking another step toward him. “I would. In fact, I’d love nothing more.”

A giddy grin splits Max’s face before he can rein it in. You actually said yes! To him! After his utterly insane made-up pet emergency, you still somehow agreed to go out with him.

The absurd wave of giddy elation and disbelief must show on his face, because you shake your head fondly.

“What am I going to do with you, Max Verstappen?” You say, voice warm with wry amusement. “Anyone else might have turned and ran after that nonsense, but I have to admit … there’s something terribly endearing about your attempts at romance.”

You brush past him then, headed for the door with a coquettish glance over your shoulder.

“I’ll get those discharge papers ready. And maybe once the completely fabricated fur crisis is dealt with, you can take me out for that date one of these days?”

Max can only nod dumbly, wide smile still firmly in place as the exam room door swings shut behind you. He glances down at a disgruntled Jimmy, scratching his cat’s ears with a breathy chuckle.

“Looks like your little acting gig paid off after all, buddy. Your new mom’s gonna take me out on a date!”

***

A few months later, Max can barely contain his excitement as he weaves through the familiar organized chaos of the Monaco paddock. This race holds a special thrill every year as one of the marquee events on the calendar. But today, there’s an extra level of anticipation thrumming through his veins.

Because for the first time ever, you’re here with him.

After months of gentle coaxing and meticulously planned days off, he’s finally convinced you to spend an entire race weekend as his guest. The chance to show you his world, the intoxicating intensity of a Grand Prix up close, fills Max with a buzz of elation.

He can’t wait for you to experience it all — the roar of finely-tuned engines, the crunch of data analysis, and even the mundane periods of hurry-up-and-wait that are all just part of the hectic lifestyle he loves. Just having you by his side makes everything seem that much more vibrant and alive.

Max throws you a brilliant grin as he catches your eye, unable to resist drinking in how gorgeous you look, face glowing with curiosity and excitement at taking it all in. His breath catches a little at the warmth in your returned smile. Even after months together, he’s still constantly amazed that this funny, caring, wonderful woman actually agreed to be his.

A gentle hand on his arm breaks through Max’s reverie. He glances over to find his trainer indicating they should move on for the next pre-race commitment. Max nods easily, squeezing your hand as he slows.

“Why don’t you wait here? I’ll just be a couple minutes with Rupert going over some details, then we can grab some food, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect.” You lean in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek that makes his head swim. “I’ll be here.”

Max’s grin is so wide it borders on goofy as he tears himself away to follow Rupert toward the motorhome, throwing one last look over his shoulder. You’ve settled onto a stack of tires just around the corner, radiant smile still in place as you watch the surrounding action unfold.

His trainer’s voice pulls Max back to the present as they walk, and he does his best to shelf his heartsick infatuation for a few minutes to focus. This is it, the most famous race of the year. The track with no room for error during qualifying. He should be mentally locking in, triple checking every detail and sensor read-out.

Instead, his mind keeps drifting back to how soft your lips felt against his cheek, how undeniably right it feels to share this with you.

By the time their brief walk-through wraps up, Max is practically shaking with anticipation to rejoin you. Only as he turns back toward where he left you, jacket slung over his arm … you’re nowhere to be seen.

A crease forms between Max’s brows as he scans the scattered tires and tool chests, looking for your familiar figure. You couldn’t have gone far in such a short span.

Then a flash of movement from the Mercedes garage entrance catches his eye and Max feels his heart plummet. There you are, crouched down animatedly in front of the German team’s pit … with none other than Lewis Hamilton and his bloody bulldog Roscoe.

Of course. Of course Lewis-freaking-Hamilton would zoom in the second Max’s back was turned to try and work his charms on you. Even bringing that dumb dog out like the world’s most obnoxious prop to appeal to your soft heart for animals.

Max sees red, an irrational wave of protective jealousy surging through his veins as he watches you laugh at something Lewis says, completely charmed. Your hand strokes Roscoe’s broad head idly, pure affection written across your features.

And just like that, Max is moving before his brain can catch up, feet carrying him hastily across the pavement as if drawn by an invisible cord.

You glance up as he approaches, smile stretching even wider. “Max! Lewis was just-”

But Max pays your words no mind, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you snugly against his side as he sizes up Lewis with narrowed eyes.

“Everything okay over here?” His gaze pointedly avoids the dog panting at their feet.

He sees confusion flicker across your features, but Lewis just chuckles good-naturedly.

“Just making a new friend is all! Your girl here is an absolute natural with Roscoe.” He shoots you a warm grin and motions to his dog, who thumps his stubby tail happily against the pavement.

Max feels his jaw tighten, irrational possessiveness flaring hot and bright as Lewis’ approving gaze lingers a little too long for his liking.

“Oh, the pup’s adorable!” You enthuse, dropping into a crouch again to ruffle Roscoe’s velvety ears. “You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Max scowls down at the dog, annoyed by his besotted panting and frantically wagging tail as you dole out affectionate pats. Like the mangy thing has any inkling how lucky he is.

Leave it to Lewis to trot out something irresistibly cute like that just to try and win you over.

Seeming to sense his silent brooding, you straighten back up and loop your arm through Max’s, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m getting a little thirsty, actually. Do you mind if I run to the hospitality tent for a drink quickly?”

Lewis perks up instantly. “I can show you whe-”

“She knows the way,” Max cuts him off, perhaps a bit too sharply judging by your surprised blink. He softens his tone with an effort. “To Red Bull hospitality, I mean. I’ll walk you over.”

He turns on his heel, tugging you along in the wake of his hasty dismissal. Your brows knit together and you open your mouth, no doubt to question his odd behavior.

But Max stubbornly presses on, only slowing once you’ve turned past a row of transport trucks and the Mercedes garage is out of sight. He releases a long, slow breath, some of the weird, clawing tension ebbing away now that you’re back by his side.

“Everything alright?” You ask carefully, mouth curved into a bemused half-smile. “That was … a bit of an abrupt exit back there.”

Max snorts, shaking his head ruefully as you fall into step together. How is he supposed to put this in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a completely irrational, jealous idiot?

“Yeah, everything’s great. Just felt like it was time to move on before Lewis could really get going, you know?” He shoots you a sidelong look, arching one brow meaningfully. “Dude loves to hear himself talk.”

You huff out an amused breath, lips twitching like you’re struggling not to grin wider. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. He seems perfectly lovely from what I could tell.”

Max shrugs one shoulder, brushing off the statement and its implicit critique of his attitude. Lewis is a fine enough guy … he just also happens to be a chronic flirt who clearly recognizes a beautiful, charming woman when he sees one. And that activates Max’s protective instincts on a level he didn’t quite anticipate until he saw Lewis zeroing in on you like that.

You drift closer as you walk, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully.

“You know, it was kind of sweet, actually — him bringing Roscoe out to meet me. I think he knew I’m a sucker for a cute dog.”

Sweet. Right. Because Lewis was just doing it all out of the goodness of his bleeding heart.

“Don’t you mean Roscoe is the real competition here?” Max tries for a teasing tone, only half-joking. “Pretty sure that mutt was the one working overtime to charm you.”

He tosses you an exaggerated leer, stoking the banter to cover his lingering irrational annoyance at the entire situation. If you noticed his blatant brush-off of Lewis, you’re being mercifully subtle about calling it out.

Sure enough, you lift one delicately arched brow, lips curved into an indulgent smile. “Is that so? And here I thought it was just Lewis trying to get on my good side. My, what a dilemma!”

Max chuckles despite himself at your playful tone, some of the weird tension ebbing further from his shoulders. Of course you’re not fazed by all this nonsense — you never are. Not only are you unfailingly kind and patient, but you clearly know him well enough by now to recognize when his protective instincts are causing the occasional bout of unreasonable jealousy.

Even though he swears up and down he isn’t actually jealous, not really. Just … being cautious after finally finding someone as incredible as you.

Red Bull hospitality comes into view up ahead, its distinctive energy drink logos splashed across the entrance. You start to slow as you approach, hand trailing lightly down Max’s arm until your fingers brush his.

“I wasn’t gone that long, you know,” you point out, regarding him with those warm, knowing eyes. “I wouldn’t just run off and leave you behind on your big weekend.”

Something in your tone, soft yet insistent, assures Max that you see right through his childishly competitive display. He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish as you continue.

“Max, you don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal me away or whatever it is that’s going through that handsome head of yours. I’m yours, remember?”

Your fingers tangle through his and your free hand comes up to cup his cheek, grounding him fully in the moment. He nods slowly, leaning into your touch as the last wisps of stupid, needless jealousy evaporate under the warmth of your fond gaze.

“You’re right, I know. I do remember.” He turns his head slightly, brushing his lips across your palm. “And I’m yours.”

“Exactly.” You raise up on your tiptoes to dust a feather-light kiss across his mouth that leaves Max’s head spinning delightfully. “Now, what do you say we get something to drink so we can enjoy the rest of the weekend together?”

Max grins, feeling lighter than he has all day as he catches your hand and tugs you toward the tent entrance.

“Lead the way, liefje. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

And he absolutely would, too — past Lewis and Roscoe and any irrational jealousy that rears its head. Because having you by his side through all the whirlwind of Formula 1, getting to share this wild life with the woman he loves more and more every day?

It’s the only competition Max has any interest in winning.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the End - Post-Apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - Take care of the Omega

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. SMUT, dub-con, fingering knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader, injuries, masturbation

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The four of them enter the cabin, stepping carefully to not make a sound on the wooden floorboards. The tiniest of sounds make each of them wince just a little. “This place is trapped,” Soap mutters as he steps in and tries to breathe past the smell of omega. The entire place was drenched in the smell, pine and granny smith apples. Tangy and spoke years in this forest but it suited you. “Wonder if ye will be like a smith apple,” he mutters to himself before he’s elbowed by Ghost.

“Don’t talk to yerself.” His lieutenant says gruffly but his brown eyes show the amusement he tries to hide in his voice.

“Ach, come on LT, dinnae tell me you cannae smell it too,” Soap teases and Ghost just grunts.

Beneath them none of them know you lie in your nest of blankets and pillows, hand between your thighs as you listen to their muffled talk. The accent of the one you shot shouldn’t do as much as it is for you, slick gushing out from around your fingers while you lick your lips mind reeling with the prospect of them making it down to where you were now.

Pressing one palm against your mouth to muffle the sound of your whimper as your cunt clenches down on your fingers and more slick leaks out wetting the blankets and your thighs as you think about them.

The hours pass and you giggle to yourself whenever you hear cursing or yelling from above. For such a small cabin you’re quite proud of yourself for managing to trap nearly every inch of it. If they manage to avoid one trap they are almost guaranteed to run into another which makes you have to muffle your howls of laughter.

“Fuckin’ omega,” Price curses as he disarms a particularly deadly trap that involves an axe that nicked him in the ear.

“She nearly got ya there Cap’n,” Gaz says a little teasingly but no one could deny the tension in his voice as his fellow alpha disarms the trap. As soon as it was disarmed Gaz walks up to Price and dabs away the blood on his ear. “Didn’t take your whole ear off at least, might’ve had to reconsider some things if she had.”

“Getting cheeky now?” Price grumbles and Gaz just gives him on his crooked and mischievous grins.

“I would never.”

When they finally got to the stairwell that led down none of them could deny how they felt. “There has to be one more,” Ghost muttered, rubbing his shoulder where a steak knife had lodged itself into his muscle. That had been fun to pull out and patch.

“Oh undoubtedly,” Price replies as he steps forward and breathes in deep. “But I can smell her down there. She’s in heat Simon,” he says and something within his chest rumbles. Ghost shares a look with Soap who looks like an addict about to get their first fix in months.

“Gaz goes first,” Ghost says, looking to the prettiest of the alphas.

Price opens his mouth to object before he closes it and considers what his lieutenant is suggesting. “Any particular reason why?” Price asks and Ghost shrugs.

“Call it a hunch.”

Price looks to Gaz who stares down the unlit steps into the cellar with his heart thrumming against his chest. “It's your choice, sergeant. What will it be?”

Gaz swallows and glances between the three of them before he steps forward. “I’ll go first but you’ll follow my lead. If you spook her I don’t imagine any of us will be having a good time.” Everyone exchanges a glance but says nothing as Gaz grabs Prices lighter and flips it open to light the way down the stairs. About half way down the stairs Gaz hears a click. “Get down!” He shouts just in time because a wooden log comes down from the ceiling ready to hit whoever was in its path.

“Steamin’ jesus,” Soap curses as he looks it over. “She's really aimin’ to kill.”

“Of course she is, we’ve invaded her territory,” Gaz grumbles but no one hears him or they ignore him. “I think that might be the only one here, it looks old,” he says as he shines a light against the metal holding it in place, rusted and Gaz imagines that it kept it from coming down at the speed it was intended.

At the end of the stairs is a cellar. It smells of dirt and must but there’s one scent that overpowers it completely. The smell of pine needles and granny smith apples along with the sweet tinge of heat. Gaz holds his arm out, “Let me do the talking and Soap, keep to the back.”

“Ach, this insae fair,” he grumbles as he goes to back of the pack and Gaz’s shoulders relax slightly. The sight before them when they enter fully is like one from the heavens above. If heaven’s prettiest angel was growling and hissing that is.

You struggle to keep your eyelids from fluttering closed at the smell of all four of them in your newest safe space. You back into the corner of your nest, growling and hissing at them as they all step forward. “Go away!” You snarl as you fight against the tremors in your body. Four alphas! They all survived! Strong alphas, they must be! Your inner omega yips and celebrates but you refuse to give in.

“You’re-” you swallow the saliva building in your mouth, “you’re in my territory!”

The prettiest of the four steps forward, palms extended to show no weapons or intent to harm. “Omega,” he whispers and his voice is like a balm for your rage and fear. Even better, he stops at the edge of your nest and doesn’t enter without your permission which makes your chest rumble with something resembling a purr. A half purr half growl. “We just want to help.”

“Help how? By-” your cut off by a whimper as heat pulses through your core. “By invading my territory?”

“We never meant to invade your territory,” he soothes and you blink at him. You find yourself drowning in those brown eyes, believing that face.

“Promise?” It comes out more meek than you intended.

“Promise. And we won’t break any rules, you just have to tell us pretty omega.”

So you do. “No marking.” Is the first thing that leaves your mouth. “A-and no name calling.” You quickly add on as you glance at the mean looking one, the one with a balaclava with a skull on it.

“Okay. Okay we can follow those rules. Right men?” He glances behind him at the three others who all nod. You shrink away from the corner and settle back into your comfortable nest.

“You can come into my nest now,” You mumble and look away, heart beating so hard against your chest you can feel in your throat. As the pretty one settles between your thighs he blinks those brown eyes up at you.

“My name's Kyle sweet thing,” he says and when you say his name to him he groans, resting his cheek on your sensitive inner thigh and rubbing his stubble against it. His hands gently pry your supple thighs apart a little further and press a kiss to your inner thigh. “I’m gonna take care of you, we all are.” You glance and look at the three others, shrinking away when you realize all of their eyes are on you. You open your mouth to say something but it dies on your lips as two fingers slip inside your slick cunt.

You grab onto his shoulders and blink feverishly at him, trying to find yourself as a wave of heat washes over you. A gasp leaves your lips as he begins to move his fingers, slowly at first. Like watching syrup drip from the bottle. Pulling slowly from the grip of your cunt and bringing up the slick gathered on his fingers to your hardened clit. You melt into your nest as he moves his fingers in circles around your clit. “There’s a good omega,” he coos as his other hand takes over circling your clit while the other returns to sink two fingers back into you.

“Kyle mmpf-” you bury your face into the pillow beside you as he works you up too quickly. It's too much and somehow not enough. The more he pets at the walls of your cunt, in search of something, the more the heat in your stomach builds and your breathing turns heavier.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, grinding his palm up against your clit now instead. Your gasping for air, hands finding his shoulders and nails digging in as his fingers touch that part inside you that makes you wail and spill slick all over his fingers. “Yeah there it is,” he mutters, never breaking eye contact with you as he picks up the pace.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper, already regretting the several orgasms you had given yourself earlier. Every nerve feels like it’s been lit on fire, fried and you can’t fight the thing building up inside of you. “Kyle please.”

“Aw she's beggin’ now, cmon Gaz.” One of the others speaks and you growl at whoever said that while your brain processes the accent. You bare your teeth at the Scottish one who has a nasty grin on his face and watch as he’s dragged back by the biggest of all of them.

“No, no.” Kyle says and brings your attention back to him and his fingers curling inside you. “Cum for me pretty omega,” he says and you whimper. “Like that name for you? Pretty omega,” he coos while you nod. Heat licks up your spine and you feel like you’re broken in half when it finally happens. Your nails dig into his flesh as your cunt pulses around his fingers. No sound comes from you besides a choked gasp and he keeps moving his fingers in and out as you gyrate your hips to wring as much pleasure from this as possible.

Finally you stop, breathing in deep while he stares down at the mess you made of his hand. “Please Kyle,” you whimper as a haze falls over you completely. “Please fuck me.”

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[bbydoll18xx]

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit

Paige stumbles into a sex shop you work at, and you give her some satisfactory customer service.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Themes: sex toys, masturbation, and sex mentioned

A/N: hii so I thought of this idea when I was lounging in my pool and I kinda love it. I have a few ideas for a second part if you guys are up for it

~

“That’ll be 49.95,” you say brightly, your customer service voice on full display, as you carefully wrap an eight inch glass dildo up and put it in a bag. Your customer, a tall, muscular man with shifty eyes and a baseball hat hanging low over his face, quickly swiped his card, avoiding eye contact with you, as you finished the transaction. 

“Have a great day!” You call as he rushes out of the store and into his large pickup truck. 

Ah. The joys of dealing with the closeted ones. It was certainly more appealing than the creepy straight dudes who offered to take you home and prove to you that the vibrators that adorned the entire back wall of the store were not as good as their own dicks. 

That was fucking bullshit.

You had prided yourself in being open with both your sexuality and the joys of sexual pleasure since you were old enough to know what it entailed. And you were not shy about sex or masturbation. It was a totally normal thing. 

You have often referred to yourself as The Fairy Godmother of Orgasms. Each of your friends had been given a vibrator sometime during college, with subtle instructions to learn how to make themselves cum. Because men just aren’t up for the job these days.

So when you picked up a job at the newest, trendiest sex store just outside of Storrs to help make some extra money for school, it seemed like all of the stars aligned. 

You shake your head, giggling at the hilarity of the man’s sheer discomfort and apply a layer of lip gloss to your full, pink lips. There were a few customers lingering in the store but it had been pretty quiet today, as it was the middle of the week. 

A few minutes later, the jinging of the bell on the door alerts you to a group of girls giggling loudly, faces blushing in a way that you had become quite accustomed to seeing in the store. 

College students were your favorite customers, as you loved seeing young women being open about having fun and safe sex lives, and you wave warmly at them.

“Hi there! Just let me know if you have any questions!” You chirp, sending a wink over to the tall blonde girl whose cheeks were the brightest shade of red in the group.

Her face darkens, spreading down the pale skin of her neck as the other girls shove her teasingly, and she almost falls into a rack of lingerie.

Muttering an apology, she fixes the rack, running her hand across her face, glancing back at you before running after her friends where they had assembled in the back of the store. 

Her bumbling behavior amuses you, and it was so unlike her.

You had recognized her from the second she had walked in. Paige Bueckers face was plastered all over UConn’s campus, and you were a victim of the tiktok edits bombarding your phone.

You were a willing victim at that.

Paige was not just a great basketball player. She was also incredibly kind and unusually humble. It also did not help that she was gorgeous, and you were not ashamed to admit that you had thought about those long, nimble fingers and her muscled thighs from time to time. 

Or maybe a little more than that. 

You are pulled out of your increasingly naughty thoughts by loud laughs, and you look over to where KK Arnold is holding up a huge purple dildo.

“Paige, I think this would be perfect for you!” She snorts, sending the other girls into a fit of howls.

You chuckle, putting a hand over your mouth as you observe Paige’s obvious embarrassment from behind the counter.

“God, KK, could you be any louder,” Paige mutters, eyes flickering to where you were pretending not to watch. “Shoulda just bought this shit online.”

“That’s no fun,” Aubrey says, gazing at the section of strap ons with an interested look on her face. 

The bickering continues for a few minutes, with Ice Brady and Aubrey occasionally making a few comments before you decide to go over to the group.

“Is there anything you’re looking for in particular today?” You ask. “I know the selection can be a bit…overstimulating.” You bite your lip as you finish your sentence, inwardly cringing at your provocative choice of words. 

Paige coughs, and KK erupts into another fit of laughter, and before the blonde could even form a word, KK says, “Home girl needs a nice vibrator. She is very single, and the ol’ right hand just ain’t cuttin’ it anymore.”

“Dude, oh my god,” Paige groans, hands once more shielding her face. 

“I totally understand how that is,” you say sympathetically. “Let me show you our most popular vibrators.”

You reach for Paige’s hand, somewhat surprised as she allows you to take it, and you guide her to the back wall. 

“Now this one is a classic. They call it a rabbit because of the cute lil bunny ears, which is great for the clit. And it has a dildo attached, so it’s a two in one type of deal.”

You look up at Paige, trying to gauge her reaction, and she looks completely stunned. Blushing, you put down the brightly colored toy. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable at all.”

“No, not at all,” Paige mumbles, a far cry from her usual confidence. “This is all just new to me.”

You nod understandingly. 

“This one might be more your speed. It’s called a wand, and it’s perfect for beginners. Not much of a learning curve for this one,” you say, holding out the box for her to inspect. 

The wand was purple and small enough to throw in a discrete bag, and with a rechargeable battery and its waterproofness, it was a fan favorite. 

“Alright, I think I’ll try this one then,” Paige says, her voice a little more sanguine as the initial embarrassment of buying a sex toy wore off. 

Aubrey, KK, and Ice erupt into loud cheers and a round of applause, and Paige responds by giving them the middle finger.

“You guys are hilarious. You should come in more often,” you laugh.

“Maybe I will if you’re working,” Paige responds, looking you up and down. 

It was your turn to blush, her sudden boldness surprising you, and your heart rate jumps at the idea. 

Paige follows you over to the checkout counter, where you ring up the toy, adding your employee discount for good measure before bagging it up and handing it to her, your fingers brushing up against hers as you do so. The contact sends shivers through your body, and you immediately think of your own toys waiting for you in your bedside drawer. 

You were really going to fucking need them after this shift. 

“Have fun. If you ever have any questions, you know where to find me,” you tease, not wanting this to be the last you see of her.

“I will,” Paige responds, sending you a cheeky wave before leaving, her friends in tow.

“She will definitely be back, don’t worry!” KK exclaims, before Paige pulls her out of the store by the hood of her sweatshirt.

You certainly hoped so.

~

Life continued on the next few weeks as normal. You went to work. You went to class. And you spent even more time with your legs spread thinking about Paige. 

You didn’t necessarily mean for it to happen; it just did. If her face was not completely clouding your thoughts before she had stumbled into the store, it was now. Even your dreams were swirled with images of that long blonde hair and her mouth, her tongue peaking out seductively.

And because you were quite single, you had turned to the toys. 

You were walking through campus, eagerly heading back to your apartment after your lecture so you could enjoy yet another solo session, when you spot Paige, KK, and Jana walking up to you.

KK was leading the charge, enthusiastically waving to get your attention, whilst Paige was trailing behind, a shy smile on her face.

“Well look who it is!!” KK teases, introducing you to Jana, who had a knowing look on her face. She reaches a hand out to you. “I’ve heard lots about you,” she smirks in Paige’s direction, who rolls her eyes.

You wave at the blonde, eyes crinkling from the sun and the excitement of seeing her again. “Sooo,” you trail. “Any issues with it?” 

The question was vague, but all three girls seemed to know exactly what you were referring to, and Paige flushes yet again. She looks at the other two girls, shooting them harsh looks until they hesitantly walk away from the two of you, leaving you with the privacy you were dying to have.

Paige coughs. “Um, I haven’t really been able to figure it out, ya know?”

You try not to laugh. “What’s there to figure out? Just turn it on and go to town.” 

“I tried,” she nearly whines, clearly embarrassed.

“And?” You prod, confused as to what she was so obviously missing.

“I couldn’t, ya know, finish,” she mumbles, looking at you with a small pout.

You wanted to kiss the pout right off those lips. 

“Need some help then? I’m kind of a professional,” you suggest boldly, hoping she was feeling the electricity flowing between you. 

“God, yes,” she breathes. 

It was all over from there. 

~

If anyone was wondering, yes my friends do really call me the fairy godmother of orgasms. And yes I am very passionate about my love for vibrators LOL

I hope you enjoyed!! Do we want a part 2??

My inbox is always open

xoxo katy

Part 2

Part 3

[moonchildstyles]

crescent

it's all hallow's eve and y/n shouldn't be in the woods.

wordcount: 5.1k+

tw: there is a large section describing some scary animal (wolf) stuff w descriptions of blood and the breaking of bones! everything turns out the wya it should tho don't worry!

—————

With every step, the brush under (Y/N)'s feet crackled. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her weight, the loudest noises that could be heard in the forest. The hoots of owls nearby and howls of wolves far off bounced amongst the trees. 

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp air, she readjusted her grip on her skirts as she stepped around a puddle. Every exhale came out in a cool cloud. The basket bouncing against her hip was going to leave a bruise, she was sure. 

Truly, (Y/N) was regretting taking on the responsibility of this trip. Her cousin—and her mother for sending her off, actually—owed her more than just the few loaves of bread she was running to pick up. Especially since Katrina apparently was only available tonight, and was unwilling to make the trip herself despite being in town earlier in the afternoon, anyway. That was (Y/N)'s cousin, though; eccentric and impulsive. 

Just because no one had claimed this land on the outskirts of town, and she had the kind of money to keep everyone's mouths shut if they had any opposition, didn't mean that it was the best idea. Especially so, when it meant that Katrina was tucked away in-between the trunks of trees and craggy brush.

But, (Y/N) supposed that was the price of enjoying time by herself. No husband needed when she had her peace and quiet, Katrina had said.

A chilled breeze swept across her form, goosebumps lighting over her skin, the texture hightlighted under the rays of the full moon. Yeah, (Y/N) thought as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders, there better be more than a couple of loaves of bread involved in this trip. She didn't care if Katrina enjoyed her peace and quiet, not when she was cold and missing out on the town's festivities for the night. 

All Hallow's Eve was one of (Y/N)'s favorite nights of the year. It was the one night that she enjoyed staying out under the moonlight, and actually found joy in the idea of being scared. The last place she wanted to be on a night like tonight, was trudging through the woods on her way to her cousin's home. 

This was one of (Y/N)'s least favorite routes on a regular day, even among the morning hours, let alone doing this in the evening with only the moon to keep her company. The forest around her sang, filling the silence of her trek. 

Though she would never accept the title, she knew she was a bit of a scaredy cat, as Katrina had so lovingly put it when they were children. She avoided focusing on it to keep her wits about her, but the journey was beginning to send an eerie feeling up her spine. 

With every crunching footstep, she swore there were eyes pinned to her. Every brush of her shawl over her bare skin was suddenly an insect crawling into her pores, every hair falling into her face was saliva dripping from an open maw above her head, every chirping animal was a deviant spying on her from the shadows. Shadows were elongated with the help of the moon. Naked tree branches now looked like spindly fingers reaching out to grab her and take her into the earth with them. The smallest creatures skittering over the brush were now out to snatch her away, taking her to their master where she would be nothing more than a banquet table of food. 

This was most definitely not the way she wanted to spend her All Hallow's Eve. The only fun scares were the ones in town square, where the masks of witches and ghosts were strung around, and costumes were nothing more than a dressing game from those that she knew wouldn't hurt even a fly. Not this kind of chilling fear. Not the moments she had to convince herself were only in her head. 

But, truly, (Y/N) knew they were only in her head. There wasn't any deviant in the woods around Katrina's home, let along a monster with rows of teeth or blinking eyes on the moon. It was just her and the critters that could survive the shift of seasons out here. 

She just better be getting more than a couple of loaves of bread for this. 

Tightening the knitted shawl around her body, she pushed on. Katrina's cabin couldn't be that far. 

(Y/N) all but jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud crunch. She swore the sound came from behind her instead of underneath her feet like the moments before. Her steps faltered. Everything inside her wanted to turn around, to prove that it was nothing more than an animal running passed instead of the ghoul she had conjured up. But, just as badly as she wanted to know, she wanted to run away and sprint to Katrina. 

Steeling herself, (Y/N) surged onward. It was really just an animal. She would know if someone was following her. She would have heard something before this. No one could be that quiet. 

Maybe. 

She only made it a few yards further before a rustling of dead leaves sounded. Much closer behind her than before. 

On instinct, she whipped her head over her shoulder. 

Nothing but the bony trees. Shadows pulled thin under the bright moonlight didn't allow for many hiding places. Nothing and no one was to be seen. 

Her heart hammered in her chest, climbing up to the base of her throat as she forced herself to move on. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck, pasting the thin strands of hair there to her clammy skin. Katrina was going to tease her if she didn't get herself in check; she couldn't walk up having this look of fright on her face. 

With her pace quickened, (Y/N) moved on. The basket hanging from the crook of her elbow bounced against her hip with every hastened step. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her feet, the soft rush of the earth being disturbed under the heel of her boots padded each of her steps. 

She needed to go faster, she urged herself. The faster she made this trade, the faster she made it home, and the faster she was home, the sooner she could join in on the All Hallow's Eve traditions. If she was lucky, Harry Styles might still even be out with his niece and she'll finally have a chance to talk to him and let him know she exists an—

A threatening growl reverberated through the trees. 

A sharp yip fell from (Y/N)'s lips, her lungs squeezed free of air. Despite the cool air around her, she could feel her skin beginning to simmer in fear. Her heart pumped as if in her last moments. 

What was it her mother said? When confronted by an animal, was she to be the bigger, scarier entity? Or was she supposed to lie still and hope they went away? Wait, was she supposed to run and hope they didn't give chase? 

Parts of her began to grow numb, a light tingle appearing in the tips of her fingers as she dared to look at her stalker. 

(Y/N)'s list of fears was long and winding, the kind that had the top spot constantly under fire as new worries were added. In that moment, she couldn't be sure what she was most afraid of seeing when she turned around, only that the not knowing wasn't an option. 

Taking in a deep breath and holding as still as possible, she made the smallest movement to peer over her shoulder. 

Her heart caught in her throat. Though she couldn't see all of it, the beast wasn't something that could be ignored. Not with the way its paws dug deeply into the earth, it's stance spanning as wide as the width of her shoulders. The fur grew in an array of shades of grey, thick and course. In the right light, he looked like nothing more than a shadow, the illusion only broken by the reflection of his black eyes. As much as she saw the heavy breaths the beast exhaled, she could hear it just as well as he drew closer. 

A root snapped under its huge paw, like a bone crunching. The sound had her skin erupting into goosebumps, (Y/N) unable to stop herself from jumping in her spot. The basket hanging from her elbow bumped against the trunk of the tree at her side.

The wolf wasn't pleased by her sudden movement, opening its maw and breathing out a gravelly growl. Its teeth were sharp, incisors coming to a point with the express purpose of ripping and tearing meat from the bone. Saliva gleamed over the teeth, dripping onto the soil at its feet. 

It took another step closer to her. (Y/N) trapped herself with her back to the trunk of the tree. 

Rushes of blood roared through her ears. She couldn't tell if the black touching the corners of her vision were the result of a stray cloud drifting over the moon, or the fact that she could be looking death in the eye as it stalked towards her. 

All for a couple of bread loaves. From Katrina. 

At that moment, (Y/N) felt a spark sink into her stomach. It was surprisingly offensive to think that her death would come on the journey to Katrina's cabin. That was far from fair. 

In what she was sure she would later think of as a stupid move (if she made it long enough to have a later anyway), she dug the toes of her boots into the earth, waiting just long enough to feel one more beat of her heart against her ribs. Then, she took off. 

(Y/N) had to hope this was the lifetime that would allow her to possess the speed to outrun a hellish wolf. Meandering through the trunks of spindly trees, she attempted to cut him off as best as possible, even if the pounding of the beast's feet sounded heavy and close behind her.

She was going to make it, she told herself. Just keep running. Get to Katrina. Get to the edge of the woods. Scream, let anyone else know what was happening. Maybe a hunter was out here—a stupid one for being out so late, but who was she to criticize. She was going to make it, and liv—

A jutting root caught on the tip of her boot. (Y/N) swore the world moved in slow motion as she fell. 

The clouds above stopped. The moon dimmed. The leaves under her turned crystalline. 

This was it. 

Her chin hit the damp earth first, her jaw clamping shut. Her hands stung as she attempted to catch herself, sticks and rocks embedding into her skin. The basket in her arms was crushed under her weight. 

This was it. 

Hopefully, someone would deliver the bread loaves to her mother instead. Hopefully, someone would find her. 

A deafening growl sounded through the forest. Tears filled her closed eyes. 

This was it. 

Until it wasn't. 

The growl had been cut short, killed with a vibrating slam against the forest floor. The static feeling someone looming behind her vanished. Despite the lack of heavy, hot breath fanning across her back, she didn't move. She couldn't trust the sudden change in the air. Her bones stayed stiff as he continued to brace herself against the forest floor. 

Another growl rang through the forest. This one was decidedly different than what she had heard while being stalked. 

There was another beast. That much she could be sure of. 

(Y/N) couldn't decide if it was scarier to not know what was behind her, or to see exactly what the end of her life was going to look like.

When a duo of gravely barks reverberated behind her, the decision was made for her on instinct. Though her gaze was blurry thanks to the tears filling her eyes, she was able to make out the pair of wolves looming behind her. 

But neither of them were looking at her.

Roots and brush dug into her back as she rolled to her back. Neither of them appeared to notice the movement of the prey before them, supernatural eyes pinned on one another. While the initial beast's eyes were reflections of moonlight, colored a primal yellow, the newcomer had emerald crescents at its irises.

This new one was also bigger and broader. (Y/N) had thought the yellow-eyes wolf was large and scary enough, this new one was in a league of its own. She shuddered to think just how easy it would be for this one to swallow her whole. 

Despite how large the emerald-eyed creature was, it was decidedly sleeker than the other. There wasn't anything course and tufting in its brown coat. Sharpened teeth, though just as menacing, lacked the chips and discoloration the other had. It looked less... feral compared to the other; desperate for a chase. 

The emerald-eyed one stepped close to the beast, growling and baring its teeth in intimidation. The rigid posture kept its maw wide over the yellow-eyed one's head, dripping with saliva. A throat growl vibrating from its massive chest. 

(Y/N) almost cringed when she saw the stalking beast refuse to back down despite the size difference presented with the emerald-eyed competitor. She was far from being a meal worthy for death. 

Neither refused to back down, but at least they didn't spare even a single look in her direction. Now was the time to flee, get away from there and to Katrina before another nasty foe caught wind. 

She didn't think before she scrambled to her feet and ran. She had to hope that the competition presented by the two wolves would allow enough cover to get her safely away. 

Every hope of that was dashed when it only took a handful of moments before pounding footsteps sounded behind her. At least she had a head start. 

The world around her was directionless as she attempted make sense of the trees she should be much more familiar with. She just needed to get away, as far as she was concerned. If she was able to make it to Katrina, even better. 

Sweat slipped down her back, her shawl hanging from her shoulder. Branches caught on her dress. Roots attempted to trip her. The cold air didn't want to work with her lungs, every breath feeling that much more stilted. All while being pursued by animals that shouldn't exist—not like this. 

Just as she swore she saw the backside of Katrina's cottage, between large trunks and spindly branches, one of the two beasts skidded in front of her. She hadn't heard the change in direction, but there were still footsteps sounding behind her. 

(Y/N) was forced to stop, keeping herself from bashing into the chest of one of the wolves. But that kept her stationary just for the other to close in behind her. 

She wasn't sure when, but tears slipped down her cheeks. The moisture stung the cuts on the planes of her face, searingly hot against her chilled skin. 

There was no way out this time. 

Especially not when the beast in front of her, the one with glinting green eyes, started charging towards her. 

Pressing in on herself, (Y/N) fell to the floor. It was a fruitless attempt, she was sure, but she curled her arms around her head, rolling into a ball between the brush and roots. There was a chance, however small, that she may be harder to eat and swallow like this. 

At her back, the pounding paws were louder across the forest floor. It was there, just behind her. 

She wondered if she could feel each bite as her flesh was torn from her bones, or if she would die before then. 

Peeking between her curled arms, (Y/N) saw the emerald-eyed beast close in on her. His maw was open wide, a menacing growl sounding through the forest. 

Just as she expected to feel the last dredges of the cold air and every piece of her body connected to one another, the beast leapt. Right over her head. And onto the wolf at her back.

Crunches that sound did a lot like broken tree branches rang through her head. But, (Y/N) knew, she wasn't sure how, that those cracks weren't from the forest. That was the snap of bones. She was sure. 

Whimpers were now interspersed with the gravely growls, pitches and devastating. Cracks and crunches tore the rhythm apart. 

One of them was dying behind her. 

(Y/N) couldn't look. She didn't want to see what kind of carnage was taking place behind her. All she knew was that the silence that shortly followed a particularly screeching whine was the sign of an ended fight. The elimination of competition—and her only safety in the form of distraction.

Along with the blood pudding around her boots.

Her body felt faint, her head too heavy for her neck. She was out of chances. 

It was then that she hoped she actually wasn't that close to Katrina's cabin. She didn't want her cousin to wake to a sight like this. 

A humid puff of air fanned across the back of (Y/N)'s neck, moving the baby hairs pasted to the nape. A quiet whimper tore from her throat, eyes stinging with more tears. 

Take her throat first, she wanted to beg. Kill her quickly. 

Instead of the hot slice of teeth through her flesh, she felt the nudge of a wet nose against her neck. A chuff sounding. 

(Y/N) sat still. Blood began to creep up the hem of her dress, sticking to her ankles. 

Another small chuff. A whine so broken and breathy. A whoosh of air bloomed at her side. 

Forcing herself to peel her head up, she saw the brown wolf, green-eyed and sleek, laying at her side. It looked up at her with bright eyes, something knowing flashing through them. Despite its large frame and bloody maw, it looked almost pathetic with its puppy-dog eyes and crossed paws. 

The beast had saved her. Unless this was an advanced species, having adapted a wolfy version of manipulation, this beast had saved her and wanted her to... live. 

She blinked at the beat. Still with a beating heart in her chest and each of her limbs attached to her body. 

This wasn't it. The beast before her wasn't her death. 

A savior, more like it. 

The pressure in her body came to a head, her ribs seemingly collapsing as sobs wracked her body. 

(Y/N) reached towards her savior, fingers skating through its bloody fur. Warmth seeped into her fingers at the touch, drawing her that much closer before practically falling into the beast.

The wolf reacted only in small scoots of its body coming closer, sharing it's warmth and comfort with her. Quiet chuffs sounded as it nosed at her neck. 

"You saved me," she whispered, the words watery and thin. "Y-You saved me." 

Though she would have normally scoffed at the idea of any part of this animal being knowing or intelligent, what she had seen tonight had showed her that there was nothing ordinary about this beast. She believed he knew what she was talking about when it cuddled closer to her, giving a small yip before its rough tongue tentatively licked over her neck. 

Not even a flinch was given at the contact. 

The beast had saved her and was now sharing its warmth with her. It was comforting her as if language was irrelevant when it came to communication.

(Y/N) wasn't sure how long she stayed wrapped around this creature, only that the chill had seeped from her body but her bones were incredibly stiff when she finally unfurled. Her tears had ran dry like the blood seeping from her injuries. 

The green eyes of the beast matched her own gaze, large and round as it took her in. It nosed at her chin, a chuff fanning over her skin. 

"My—" she cut herself off to clear her throat from the croaky state of her voice, "My cousin, she lives over here. I-I need to go to her." The loaves of bread were at the absolute bottom of her list, but a warm home was at the top. "W-Will you... stay?" 

In the back of her head, (Y/N) wanted to be concerned about the state of her sanity. But she knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, that this creature understood her. He knew what she was saying, what she was asking. 

Especially when it stood to its full height, head bobbing as if in a nod. 

The beast allowed her to grab his scruff to steady her as she stood to her feet. Every bone in her body suddenly became aware of how hard she had pushed herself to stay alive. Aches and bruises bloomed over her body. She stumbled, only for the wolf to sidle up to her, giving more support. 

"Sorry," she murmured, keeping her grip tight on the wolf as they started towards Katrina's cabin. 

Standing side by side, (Y/N) was hyperaware of just how large this creature was. The tufts of its ears peeked over her own head, leaving her at eye level with the beast. Her gait was stilted, but the wolf stayed at her side, though she was sure it could cover miles in less time than it would take her to move yards away. She could feel the probing gaze it gave her with each step, a primal feeling of concern bubbling behind its eyes. 

Katrina's cabin came into view, a kind of relief flooding her system that had her heart cracking. She could have fallen to her knees, thanking whatever deity it was that had kept her in its sights this evening. Though, she figured she knew well which one she needed to start with.

"Thank you," she murmured, a sad smile touching the corner of her lips as she looked to her creature. She slowed to a stop at the backside of Katrina's cottage, her kitchen window in view, complete with warm amber lighting seeping into the forest. A beacon. 

The beast butted its head against her shoulder. 

"You saved me," she repeated, visibly drooping. If not for the grip she had on his neck, she was sure she would have fallen. "Thank you." 

Another chuff. Another affectionate head-butt against her arm. 

The beast tipped its head just so, meeting her eyes under the pale moonlight. 

Emerald irises glimmered. So human, with understanding floating through them. 

As well as something far more familiar than should be seen in an animal. 

(Y/N) was well aware of just how deeply traumatizing this trek had become, but she refused to think it a crack in her sanity when she swore that the beasts eyes were ones she had seen before. A green so unique and enthralling.

A green she had only ever seen in the gaze of Harry Styles. 

The mayor's son. The shy man who had plucked (Y/N)'s attention every time he walked into the room, even if he didn't even know she existed.

The eyes of a human man. 

Maybe she was cracking already. 

She tipped her head just so, the wolf's eyes following the movement. 

"You... Your eyes...They—" 

(Y/N) was suddenly cut off at the clattering sound of Katrina's dingy door behind pushed open. 

"(Y/N)? Is that you?! You were supposed to be here hours ago!" 

Whipping her gaze to where Katrina was rounding the front of her home, peering around the porch and right to where she was standing. 

Right next to the wol—

A branch snapped in the forest. Moonlight glinted off a slick, blood-matted fur. The creature was gone, disappearing into the forest. Only the ghost of its warmth remained. 

"Oh, lord—(Y/N)! What happened?! Are you okay?"

Katrina raced towards her. No wolf was to be seen, no large creature that had saved her. 

"The w-wolf," she muttered, voice broken like the skin of her lips, "He—Katrina—" 

"What wolf?" her cousin asked, approaching (Y/N) with concerned eyes and worried features, "(Y/N), you're bleeding. What happened?!" 

"There... There were two wolves," she muttered, distractedly looking to her cousin, "One of them... It saved me." 

Katrina pinned her bottom lip between her teeth. Gentle hands landed on (Y/N)'s biceps. 

"Let's get you inside. You need to warm up, and then we can talk about everything. Okay?" 

(Y/N) didn't remember agreeing to the proposition, but she knew she made it inside the cottage. That was where, beside the fire, she had to wonder if what she had seen—the wolves, the glimmering eyes, the supernatural size and strength of the creatures—was even real. 

If she really had seen the eyes of Harry Styles in the sockets of a deadly beast. 

—————

"You are never going out like that again, (Y/N). Katrina isn't even that talented at baking!" 

(Y/N) cracked a smile at her mother's fretting. It had been this way all morning after Katrina had escorted her home. (As well as three loaves of bread and every pastry left to spare). 

"I won't, mother," (Y/N) vowed, just the same as she had the first dozen times her mother had made the same declaration. 

"Two wolves," she muttered, flying back to the kitchen to stir the soup simmering on the stove, "I cannot believe that kind of evil—so close! This town..." 

More angered mutterings sounded from the kitchen, but were cut off at the sound of a knock at the door. Before she could move a single inch from where she had been stationed on the couch,(Y/N)'s mother shouted that she would grab the door—do not move!

She watched as her moth pulled open the door, the guest being shielded from (Y/N)'s view. But she heard the voice. 

One that caused her heart to spike. Today, for a slightly different reason than the usual. 

Harry Styles was here. 

"Oh, thank you, Harry! She is going to love this, thank you." 

A rumbling tone sounded around her mother. (Y/N)'s name tossed in the mixed. 

"She's still very fragile, but you may come in and speak to her if you'd like." 

(Y/N)'s spine straightened. The sound of floorboards creaking under foreign weight filled her small home. Harry's head peeked over her mother's, complete with waving curls, a rich brown. The kind that would have gleamed so prettily under a clear, moonlit night. 

Harry's eyes met her as her mother escorted him inside. 

Green.

Unique and enthralling. 

A soft smile bloomed over his lips. "Hello," he greeted her, (Y/N)'s mother disappearing into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" 

"I am alright," (Y/N) nodded, attempting to sit up before Harry urged her to stay just where she was. 

"No, don't move. You are alright hurt enough," he muttered, coming to crouch at the side of the chaise. Concern floated in his eyes—the kind of concern that (Y/N) almost wanted to place as guilt. 

"I really am alright. I look worse than I feel," she attempted to joke, though it fell flat when Harry only trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. 

A familiar circuit was run over the planes of her face, taking stock of every slight injury. 

Just like the emerald-eyed wolf. 

"I gave it to your mother, but my family put a few things together for your recovery. I hope they're able to bring you some comfort." He dropped his gaze from hers. "I cannot imagine going through what you did. You are incredibly brave." 

A warmth bubbled along her skin. At least that part was still normal—she was not immune to a dimple and pretty hair. 

"I wouldn't call myself brave, but I appreciate your words," she muttered, a bit sheepish at his praise, "All I did was run." 

"Sometimes, that is the smartest move to make," Harry murmured, a lopsided smile on his strawberry-hued mouth. "I am just glad you are alright. I've been worried sick since I heard the news." 

Her heart caught in her throat. He knew she existed—enough to worry about her well-being. 

"I am," he started, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, "so happy to see you. Please call on me if you need anything to help your recovery—anything at all."

"Um, I-I can do that." 

The dimpled smile that bloomed over his face was enough to have her throat clogged and lungs stilted. With a face this pretty, it was increasingly harder to find the similarities between the man before her and the blood-matted wolf in the woods.

"If it's alright with you," Harry started, voice dropping a tone lower as if sharing a secret, "I would like to request that if you ever need to make that trek again, that someone accompany you. Myself, included." 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she was nodding her head. "I can do that." 

"Thank you," he smiled, a breathy laugh floating through his voice, "I am unable to stay long today, but I would like to check in on you this week. If that's alright with you." 

Tempering her reaction as much as she could, (Y/N) only gave a demure nod as Harry stood to the full of his height. "I don't have much else going on, but I suppose I can fit you into my schedule." 

Her tease was enough to draw a laugh from him. An achievement, as far as she was concerned. 

"I will see you tomorrow, then? If you're not already occupied," he played along, edging towards the open door. "And, please,"—he paused, the intensity of his gaze sitting squarely on her—"if you see another wolf with those yellow-eyes, tell me. Those seem to be more dangerous than the others." 

The next moments passed in a haze. She was sure Harry said goodbye to her mother and made plans for the following day. She was sure her mother praised Harry's kindness, talking him up to (Y/N) as if she didn't already know. She was sure her heart continued beating and her lungs continued filling. 

She was sure the world continued on, even when her mind stood still.

(Y/N) hadn't told anyone about the yellow eyes. 

—————

thank u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes but if you have any fun requests or anything at all please send them in!!!!

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Belly Bulge

A/N: So. You may or may not know this about me, but I have a size kink. One of my favorite tropes to write and read is tiny woman/big man. And with that information in mind, I give you something called Belly Bulge. Pretty self-explanatory, right? // As with my other Smut Drabbles (*we're still under 1k, baby, this is a drabble!), you can imagine any character here, or just keep it neutral/anonymous, whatever you like! Warnings for this one are: (obviously) size difference, unprotected sex, choking and I guess breeding kink if you squint.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 825 // AO3

She stares at the little bulge with childlike fascination.

Moving her hands over her flat stomach, fingers shaking slightly, she presses down gently. A gasp escapes her when he moves behind her, his big hands on her small breasts, cupping them completely, squeezing, kneading, calloused palms rubbing over her hard nipples. His wide body beneath her, her cushioned rear squished to his lower stomach, shoulders pressing into his chest, his cock so deep inside her she can feel it prodding against her soft skin, literally stretching her limits.

The couch creaks beneath them as he starts thrusting upwards, his strong thighs moving against her feet that are tucked under his legs, her own spread almost painfully wide to give him better access. She watches him slide in and out, her hands rubbing down her mound, fingertips brushing against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body, her folds parting wide with every deep plunge.

She moans, throwing her head back against his shoulder, when his thick cockhead scrapes over that sweet spot, almost rams into it in that position, before slipping deeper, denting her belly from within. She feels it against her palms, the constant nudging that drives her crazy. And the stretch. How he carves his way into her small body, presses between her tight muscles, molding her to his size.

When he had put his length onto her stomach to show her how far he would reach inside her, she had thought it was impossible to fit all of him into her tiny pussy, but he had made it work, inch by hard inch, with shallow snaps of his hips, as he went deeper and deeper, and while she thought the pain would split her in two as he pushed hard against her resisting muscles, she had adjusted, surprisingly quick. Mostly because of his whispered words, his hot breath on her ear, as he encouraged her.

“Shh, it'll be alright, baby. It'll fit. I'll make it fit. You were made for this. You were made for me! Look how well you can take me, all of me... every... single... inch...”

His voice has lulled her, and now his rapid breaths and quiet groans fill her head, his clenched jaw rubbing against her temple as he keeps groping her chest whilst ramming up into her, finding space within her, stretching her, filling her, taking root inside her. He grunts when she presses down on her stomach, meeting his tip as it dents her from within, and it encourages him to move faster, his thigh muscles tensing while he pushes harder, maybe even deeper, slam after slam, nudge after nudge.

She howls and whines, mewls and moans, the sensation almost too much for her to handle. His hands leave her breasts, letting them bounce with every upward thrust; his long fingers move to her throat, curling around her slender neck, applying just enough pressure that she gasps while her eyes roll back; his other hand moves down to join hers, one large palm pressing down hard, forcing her to feel more of him through her soft flesh.

Hammering into her with fervor, his breaths grow ragged while her own quiet down, silenced by how he squeezes her throat. She's seeing stars now, her mouth wide open, saliva gathering in the corners, some dripping down her chin, as he holds her, pushing her towards the edge and far beyond, and she feels her body convulsing, thighs twitching, that tension in her stomach, hot and tight, pushed aside by his large cock hitting all the right spots.

She's already floating, but then his hand leaves her stomach and teases her clit, rough fingertips rubbing hard and fast circles as he keeps pounding into her from beneath, skin slapping against skin, every rapid plunge causing her wetness to squelch out, obscenely loud, a cacophony of sounds that make her head spin even more.

And then she comes, muscles contracting, clamping down on him hard, the wet heat that has built up within her forcing out of her. She cries out soundlessly, eyelids fluttering open, body contorting into an arc that lifts her slightly off him, causing him to sink deeper, making the bulge even bigger, and he stills, an animalistic growl leaving his parted lips as he follows her over the edge, cock twitching, balls tight and pumping, and he grabs her hand and presses it onto her stomach, feeling how he fills her up with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

His other hand eases its grip on her throat, and she gasps, falling against him, panting, head completely empty, while her belly feels so full. His warm lips brush against her sweaty forehead, a tender kiss to calm her down even more. She smiles tiredly before she closes her eyes, her palm over her womb as he pumps it full of him, marking her, breeding her, finding a place for himself deep within her.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Tension Relief

Sleepy

On the edge

[the-odd-shu]

No one is coming to save me (Silco x Reader)

Part 1 -> Next Part

Masterlist:

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Word Count: 8k

Summary: In Zaun, it’s kill or be killed. Take or be taken from. Get up or stay down and expect to die. But for some reason, the brothers working The Last Drop aren’t like the rest of the city, and you don’t understand why.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

The bones of your knuckles jerked painfully when they collided hard with the Enforcer’s jaw. You heard and felt the hinge of his jaw joint crack and pop as the blow dislocated it. The man howled, hands dropping his gun to fly up to cradle his limply hanging mouth. 

He left his side open, so you took the opportunity and drove your knee up and into it. The breath punched from his lungs. His lower jaw swung up from the force of the blow and slammed his teeth deep into his tongue. Blood sprayed across the alley wall. 

He dropped to his knees, wheezing and groaning, beside his companions. Two more Enforcers, bleeding out from stab wounds, one with your knife still driven deep into his belly. Leaving it embedded there would give him more time to be saved. But your own world was also spinning too fast for you to stoop and tug it free. 

Across from you, Sevika finished up with her own Enforcer, and annoyingly looked to be in much better shape than you. That was probably because she did the whole fighting thing as a job, whilst you merely stumbled through poorly memorised moves in a desperate attempt to keep on breathing.

“You good over there, Runt?” She called, before spitting out a glob of red phlegm. 

You wrinkled your nose at her. “Fine.” You returned simply, refusing to admit that your stomach was killing you. The moment the last Enforcer had gone down, you’d wrapped your arm tightly across it, feeling the familiar burn of a stab wound shift under the pressure. The blade hadn’t been very long, so you were fairly certain you’d be fine anyway.

“Good.” Sevika continued, “I don’t want to waste time dragging you to a healer.” She glanced up and down the alley for effect. “This was fun, same time next week?” “Only if we meet somewhere warm where Enforcers won’t decide to take a swing at us.” You argued, to which she huffed a humourless laugh out of her nose.

Where Sevika revelled in violence, you preferred to avoid it where you could. Medical supplies were expensive, even on this side of the river after all; crappy as they were. 

“Noted. See you around, Runt.” She saluted you, before she turned sharply on her heel and began striding away. “Don’t linger.” She added over her shoulder, “when they don’t return home on time, more will come.” “I know!” You snapped back, but she was already gone.

Huffing out a tired breath, you turned to take the opposite exit out of the alleyway. Every step was agony, but you were of the stubborn sort. And dying here wasn’t an option. 

The streets passed by in a blur of green lights and quiet chatter once you slipped out of the alley. It was late enough that all but the red light district were beginning to close their storefronts for the night. 

You tried to straighten up once you entered your neighbourhood. Aware of the thugs that lurked around these parts. Any signs of injury or weakness, was a sure fire way to end up backed into a second alley to be shaken down of anything valuable. 

You were planning to return to your place, tucked above the sushi bar. To the quiet, one room apartment that housed your mattress on the floor and a small box of personal items. But then you caught a whiff of something delicious smelling wafting out of the ajar door of The Last Drop, and all thoughts of sleep and patching yourself up swiftly took a backseat. There was nothing more miserable than laying in bed, injured and hungry after all.

The establishment was quiet at this time of night, but no less welcoming. Vander just had that effect on people though. He was an oddity in Zaun. Kind, where most were brittle and suspicious. Warm, where he should be defensive and distant.

Despite hardly knowing you outside of a strict bartender and client relationship, he always welcomed you into his establishment regardless of the hour or the state you were in. It was almost guaranteed that he would offer up a warm bowl of leftovers from the kitchen, regardless of if you had coin on you or not. 

So yeah, Vander was an oddity down here on this side of the river, but he was also a god sent. 

Shouldering open the heavy door, the warmth of the quiet bar washed over you, like a tender hand pushing your hair back from your face. For one blissful moment, the pain of your stomach and throbbing knuckles ebbed away to make room for the quiet lul of ‘Our Love’ playing softly on the jukebox in the back, and the smell of something hearty and homey drifting through the air, with only a slight undertone of stale alcohol. 

Vander’s soothing voice called your name from behind the bar, a hand raised in greeting as if you wouldn’t see him amongst the empty tables and chairs and only two other people in the building. Backlit by the yellow overhead light, he looked genuinely happy to see you, which was also odd.

“About time you showed up,” Vander continued to speak in a cheerful tone, “I was beginning to think you’d finally curled up in an alley somewhere to die.” You snorted, the sound obnoxious and loud against the soft melody of the music. Oh how close he was to being right. 

“You wish.” You returned good naturedly. Arm still wrapped tightly over your bleeding stomach, you strode towards the bar.

Silco had his back to you as he scribbled in one of his notebooks, a sweating glass spreading condensation on the countertop before him. Whilst Felicia turned on her elbow to grin at you over her shoulder, her purple braid sliding off of her shoulder to hang down her back.

The sparkle in her eye had your hackles raising as they often did around her. She was a playful spirit, eager to poke and prod the bear to see how far she could push it before it snapped. It was unfortunate that more often than not you were the bear in almost every scenario. 

“Oh great, your stray cat decided to wander home for dinner, Vander.” She mused, tone light and jolly despite her choice of words. “I hope you’ve got something left over.”

You felt your expression tighten ever so subtly at the light jab.  “Fuck you, Felicia.” You ground out with no real bite. A reflexive greeting at this point.

Her grin only grew, eyes practically lighting up with mirth. 

“But you are kind of like a cat, aren’t you? Mangy little thing like you. Always getting into fights and hiding in dark corners. Sweet on one person in particular, or the guy offering you food.” 

Okay, ouch, that was slightly sharper than usual. 

And to top it off, Vander was merely watching the pair of you interact instead of playing referee like he usually would. Whereas Silco hadn’t even looked up from his notebook, his pencil still scratching away at whatever he was working on.

You fixed Felicia with an unimpressed glare, “you’re in a pleasant mood this evening? Something unpleasant crawl up your ass by any chance?” 

With great care, you pulled the stool beside her out from under the counter, and clambered up onto it. The movement pulled at the split skin of your stomach and made the wound ooze, but you’d wandered around with worse in the past. This wasn’t the kind of injury that would knock you out any time soon, it was bleeding too sluggishly, and so long as you didn’t do anything stupid like running, it would keep until you trundled home with a full belly. 

Felicia wrinkled her nose as you sat, eyes tracking your careful movements, but she did not comment. Stood behind her own stool, twirling the straw of a cup of orange juice, she suddenly broke eye contact. 

Her previous bravado spluttered out as she absently muttered under her breath, “oh nothing. I just found out I’m pregnant is all.”

Your eyes promptly bugged out of your head at the casual admission. Any thoughts of wounds, and food promptly took a backseat, as you spun your stool to study your friend, and only then did you see the slant of her shoulders, the bravado that was just a touch too strong to be real. “Oh shit-!” you blurted out, before the words promptly failed you. Scrambling for support, your eyes jumped across the bar, only to find that Vander had suddenly vanished into the back, and then to Silco at the other end of the counter, who was calmly sipping at his drink, expression carefully blank. Something about his calmness struck a nerve in you. 

“You knew!?” You accused sharply, and his eyes widened in shock at suddenly being addressed.

He recovered quickly. “Oh don’t play up the wounded party, she told us just moments before you stumbled in the door.” He dropped his gaze, and began to stare at his notebook again. He didn’t pick up his pencil again, nor did he really begin reading over his notes. His eyes were stuck at one point on the page, instead of tracking along the lines of messy handwriting. Guilty. The actions read, and you felt yourself frown.

Felicia was back to grinning when you snapped your head back to her. “How far along are you?” You blurted. You didn’t know anything about kids, and had never been around a pregnant person before. Didn’t she need to sit down? Were pregnant people allowed to drink juice? Why wasn’t anyone freaking out?

Felicia snorted outright at your expression then, the sound helping to ground you. 

“A couple of weeks, I think.” She said simply, “I was late this month, and low and behold, this is why.” “Okay.” You said, and then blurted, like an idiot. “Are we keeping it?”

Felicia’s grin morphed into something gleeful and predatory. “We?” She parrotted back. 

You backtracked like your life depended on it. “You!” You corrected, desperately schooling your expression into something smooth and calm - you knew you were failing. “Are you planning to keep it?” Felicia’s smile did not change. “Don’t just dart away from that misstep,” she teased, “you do consider yourself our friend after all!”

It was an old argument. One where you stubbornly refused to admit that the trio had grown on you during your evenings spent here in their presence, and one that Felicia reveled in trying to prove you wrong with your own actions.

Like the time Vander cut his arm open on a broken bottle, and you’d stupidly turned up to the bar an hour later with a freshly stolen bottle of disinfectant from across the bridge. The good kind. The one that would’ve cost anyone their month’s salary to obtain.

Or the time, Felicia had fallen ill for several days, and you’d turned up to her door to ensure she hadn’t keeled over and died. To which she had mocked you viciously, between bouts of coughing under her partner’s exasperated gaze. 

She was grinning even now as you disregarded her claim, and scrambled for an excuse. “I’m asking because I linger around this place too. And if I’m going to continue to exist in this place nine months from now, I have the right to know if little goblins are going to begin popping out of the woodwork.”

Silco huffed into his drink, but neither of you acknowledged him. Felicia only met your gaze with open fondness in her expression.

“Yes, I think I am keeping her.” She said absently, “though I haven’t told Connol yet.” “Ah.” “Yeah.” The silence that momentarily sizzled between you was heavy. “Do you need some to go with you when you tell him?” You offered, like a dumbass. Stupidly showing your hand to her for the second time in one night.

To your surprise, the offer wasn’t met with amusement or ribbing. Felicia’s smile was suddenly small and genuine. “No, I’ll be okay.” She said simply. 

And you nodded, because she would be. She had chosen a good man after all. Connol wouldn’t blow up about something like this. He was the quiet kind. And you knew he genuinely loved Felicia, simply from observing how the pair existed in each other's presence. No, she would be absolutely fine, you knew.

“Okay,” you relented easily, before adding, “but if you need someone to smack him upside the head, you know where to find me.” She shook her head at that. “Uh, no, I don’t actually, because no one can ever pin you down, unless you’re here. And even then, your visits are too infrequent and far between, for me to predict when you’ll actually show up.” It was your turn to grin then. “How else do you think I’ve survived this long?” Vander chose then to duck out of the kitchen, a bowl of something steaming in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I’d like to think my hospitality and good cooking has helped you a little.” He joked, setting the bowl down before you with little flourish.

He must have seen the hunger in your gaze, because he didn’t even make you ask for it or to use your manners tonight. With little fanfare, he pushed the bowl towards you, set the spoon down, and then slid a napkin over.

You thanked him regardless, and eagerly dove in. The soup was warm as it went down, thick and flavourful, with carrot chunks breaking up the thick texture every now and again. The soothed the gnawing of your gut, and the warmth eased some of the pain of your muscles. 

You were still bleeding sluggishly, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it had. 

Vaguely, you could hear the other three falling back into easy conversation. They’d spent enough time in one another's company for it to be familiar. Between working elbow to elbow in the mines, and wasting their evenings away in the bar, you couldn’t exactly blame them. 

Even Silco spoke up every now and again. Chipping in when the conversation lulled to jab playfully at Vander, or correct one of Felicia’s teasing remarks to make it land even a touch more effectively. They had a weird dynamic from an outside perspective, but after being slowly but gradually absorbed into their bubble over the past few months, you could see now how beautifully they worked together.

It kind of made you wonder where you fit into the jigsaw puzzle sometimes. You certainly weren’t around enough to be a reliable friend, which definitely played into Felicia’s stray cat analogy. But when you did turn up, sometimes after days or a week of no contact, they welcomed you back as if you’d never left. As if you just fit. 

They were strange people really. And perhaps that was what had initially intrigued you enough to stick around in the beginning. 

Your spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and you realised with a start that you had already eaten all of it. Gods did Vander make a mean soup, you would’ve gladly eaten another two bowls of it without complaint.

Setting your spoon down in the bowl, you quietly pushed both away, before dabbing at your mouth with the napkin. That too was deposited into the waiting bowl. 

The warmth of the food and the calm of the atmosphere was definitely getting to you now. The soothing melody of ‘Our Love’ had trailed off somewhere during your conversation with Felicia, and had morphed into another slow, jazzy number. The combination of the music, the warmth, and the safety of having people you trusted only an arms breadth away, had your eyes dropping and your head slowly but surely dipping lower and lower towards the counter.

The other three were too engrossed in their conversation to pay much mind to you, which worked in your favour. Resting your arm on the counter, you allowed yourself to slowly slump forward, pressing your forehead down into your forearm as a makeshift pillow. Eyes slipping closed, you spared half a thought to tighten your other arm around your belly in a futile attempt to keep more of your blood inside. The pressure from your curled up position should stem the bleeding long enough for you to have a quick power nap, and then you could slip out to patch yourself up and have a proper, long sleep. 

It was just too nice of an atmosphere to leave now. 

Your eyelids slipped closed. You heard your bowl being taken away, heard glasses clink and the trio lower their voices even more. How considerate.

“Silco, give me your jacket.” “Why my jacket? Use your jacket?” A beat of silence.

“Do you see my jacket lying around anywhere?”

Quiet grumbling.

Soft footsteps, the rustling of fabric. 

The sound of a boot stepping into a puddle. 

The quiet conversation in the background abruptly cut off. 

“Did someone spill their beer there earlier?” Vander’s voice filtered in amongst the fuzz of sleep. More rustling, the whisper of a washcloth being picked up.

The sound of boots squelching once more as their owner’s weight shifted. A voice close to your side. “Vander, you didn’t have any orders for cranberry juice tonight, did you?” “Course not. You know we’re waiting for the next shipment.” Movement. Skin-warmed leather being placed carefully over your shoulders. Someone crouching down by the foot of your stool.

“It’s blood.” Silco’s voice was weirdly blank. 

“Shouldn’t be. There were no fights tonight.” Felicia spoke up. 

More silence. And it was so quiet, that you actually heard the sound of a heavy bead of liquid dripping into an existing puddle. 

The arm cinched around your waist was numb from the pressure of having your torso curled tightly over it. 

“Shit.” Silco swore, voice weirdly weak and breathless. And then hands were on your shoulders, trying to rouse you. You groaned as the movement jolted your stomach, and threatened to pull you out of your pleasant drifting state.

“-fuck off…” you tiredly grumbled, shoving your face further into the warmth and pleasant darkness of your forearm.

“Silco.” Vander began to reprimand, “don’t wake them, I’ll clean it up later-”

“It’s their blood, Vander. They’re bleeding.” Silco sharply returned, and then his shaking became more insistent. You grumbled louder. He didn’t let up. And then there was a larger hand gently tapping your fingers splayed on the counter. A presence right in front of you. Boxing you in.

Awareness slammed back into you, and you shot upright, hands shooting out to scramble at the bar counter, when you almost launched yourself completely off of your stool. Vander, who had been standing across from you, startled backwards, whilst Silco suddenly appeared at your elbow to steady you. The latter’s hands were slim but firm on your bicep, his jacket sliding off of your shoulders and thudding heavily to the floor.

Felicia hovered on the verge of your vision. Horror painted plainly on her expression as she stared at the counter. Blinking awareness back into your vision, you followed her gaze to find bruising knuckles, and your bloodied hand leaving smears across the freshly cleaned wood. Your sleeve was entirely soaked through with scarlet, <i>so much</i> scarlet, that it had dripped downwards with gravity to drip off your fingertips. 

“Shit. Fuck.” You blurted, yanking the hand off the wood to try and stem the mess it was making, only for the evidence of its presence to be plainly left behind. “Sorry, I didn’t think I was bleeding that bad.” You sheepishly chuckled, voice strained and stomach throbbing.

Silco’s hand was still wrapped around your bicep, and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let go as you glanced down to the floor to see a small puddle of blood at the foot of your stool too. Shit, that was embarrassing. What a mess.

The adrenaline of such an abrupt wake up had completely banished all thoughts of rest and sleep from your face, as you turned back to Vander and very evenly asked for the mop. He stared back at you as if you were an enigma, instead of a patron willingly asking for the tools to clean up their own mess. Honestly, what kind of establishment was he even running here? If you had bled all over the counter at the pub down the road, the owner would be using your face to clean up the spill. 

“You’re still fucking bleeding, you idiot!” Felicia barked, promptly shattering whatever weird tension had kept everyone rooted to the spot. 

Her sharp tone had your hackles rising like usual. Your eyebrows drew tightly together, as you snapped your attention to her, as she pushed off of the counter and hurriedly rounded the end to stoop for the cupboard Vander kept the first aid kit in - when had you hung around so often that you seemed to just know that anyway?

“Well, I’m sorry.” You snapped back, “if I had known it was this much, I would’ve left right after finishing the food instead of nodding off.” Reeling back in the bite in your tone, you very seriously turned back to Vander, who was staring at you in disbelief. “Sorry again about all this,” you motioned to the blood everywhere with your less bloody hand, “I’ll clean it up before I go, I swear.”

Your words finally snapped Vander out of his stupor. “I’m not mad about the mess.” He said evenly. 

Your brows furrowed. “You’re-, not?”

“No.” He said evenly. “But I am royally pissed that you didn’t mention you were injured beforehand.” Your expression shuttered at that. “Because it’s none of your business.” Silco sucked in a breath at that. As if you’d said something wrong. 

Vander’s expression mirrored your assumption. His brows drawing together, and his arms beginning to cross, as if he was standing firm. “Under my roof,” he began, tone reminiscent of a dad lecturing his unruly child, “your welfare is my business.”

You squinted back at him. “You’re so fucking strange sometimes.” You mumbled.

Vander just shook his head and motioned to Silco. And like clockwork, the pair worked in unison to hoist you off of your bar stool and onto the counter. You yelped at the change of position, at the ease in which Vander lifted you, and the careful way Silco offered back up support. 

“I could’ve done it!” You protested, feeling like a reprimanded child now that you were sat on the lip of the counter, legs hanging over the edge.

“Best not to move you too much.” Vander replied evenly, “don’t want anything tearing because you can’t swallow your pride.” You glared down at him, as Felicia returned with the first aid kit, her own expression stern as she came to stand on the side of the bar Vander was on.

Behind you, you heard Silco redirecting his attention to his fallen jacket, whilst the duo before you levelled you with a look that had every instinct within you wanting to shrivel up and hide.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Felicia snapped, her expression screaming ‘I’m mad at you’.

“Like what?” You bit back.

“Like you’re going to bolt.” 

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, but Vander set his heavy hand on your knee before you could so much as shift. “Ignore her, she’s just worried.” He soothed, his deep voice level and stern. “Now, show me where you’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t a request. 

Expression set into a scowl, you carefully pulled your jacket open, to display the blood stain gradually spreading across the front of your threadbare shirt. Huh, that was a lot more blood than you’d been expecting. Earlier, it had only been a line of red, and now most of your stomach was sticky from the shirt clinging to your wet skin. 

Felicia sucked in a sharp breath. Vander’s expression didn’t change. 

Shrugging off the jacket entirely, you pulled the shirt up next, and let that flop down with a wet splat on the counter beside you. It was just warm enough in the bar for your skin to not break out in goosebumps from the cold. Although you did feel very uncomfortable, being examined by the bartender and a mouthy woman you might decide to call your friend one day, with a third potential friend lingering behind you somewhere.

Behind you, you could hear Silco puttering around the place. Could hear him stride up to the front door of the establishment and flick the lock, before tugging down the blinds. 

Your attention was wrestled back to the present when Felicia promptly took the reins. It quickly became apparent that she had more medical knowledge between her and Vander as she began examining and then cleaning your stab wound. Leaning back on your hands to give her more space, you glared up at the ceiling as she worked and Vander assisted her.

The ghost of fingertips on your skin was an odd sensation. It wasn’t violent, or predatory, or unkind, but nor was it soothing or nice. It just felt odd. Unless you were in a fight or stuck in the middle of a crowd, you weren’t touched a lot and certainly not like you were something worth being careful with.

“What happened?” Vander spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to the moment at hand. And unfortunately, drawing your attention to the feeling of a needle dipping into and out of your skin. Your teeth ground together at the pinching sensation, but it was by no means the worse pain you've dealt with tonight. 

Resolutely glaring at the ceiling, you kept your response short. “Ran into some blue bellies.” “Oh.” Vander prompted, encouraging you to elaborate.

“I was with Sevika. They wrongly thought we were the right people to fuck with.” The words came out easily, but felt weird being spoken in the setting of the bar. You didn’t talk about yourself here. You rarely mentioned friends or colleagues to these people. Hardly spoke about yourself at all really, besides the fact that you liked Vander’s cooking and loved to have verbal spars with Felicia regardless of how tired you were.

Vander sighed. “You know this will have repercussions right-?” “What did you want me to do?” You snapped back, fixing him with a venomous glare. “Let them threaten me with my own knife, whilst I sat still and looked pretty?” “Of course not-” Vander tried to soothe, only for Silco to reappear out of seemingly nowhere.

He had his jacket back on now, as he strode in from the door that led to the apartment at the back of the establishment. He had a pile of clothes in hand, which he carefully set down on a part of the counter not covered in blood.

“Did you kill them all?” He asked seriously, something sharp entering his voice. If you were delusional, or had lost a little more blood, you might have mistaken the hatred in his tone for protectiveness or concern. But of course you didn’t, because why would anyone feel protective of you? 

You tried to imagine it. Someone like Silco, who was lean and easily snappable, going up against armed and trained enforcers in your defence. It was a comical image.

Instead of dwelling on the thought, you allowed your expression to split into a dangerous grin. “None of them will be leaving that alley in a hurry if they did survive.” Silco nodded once. “Good.” He said, sounding like he meant it. With a final tug of the medical thread and a smooth snip of scissors, Felicia took a step back to examine your neatly stitched up wound. “That should hold if you’re careful.” “Thank you.” You returned easily, “just give me a few days, and I can replace the thread-” “No need.” Vander was quick to reassure. “That’s what it’s there for.” You frowned. “I don’t recall reading on the door, that stitching up patrons is one of your house policies?” “Maybe not, but it’s <i>my</i> policy.” Vander said reasonably, “just like I’m going to insist you change into these,” he pushed the clothes towards you, “and stay the night.” You outright snorted then. “Yeah, no, that’s how people end up dead.”

Vander, like the good man he was, did not take offence to what you were implying. “Somehow, I feel like you’ll be safer staying here for the night, than going back out there like this.” He reasoned sensibly. “You’ll have access to food, and pain medication, and I’ll even upgrade you to the bedroom with the lockable door.” “Oh how generous.” You drooled back. 

“He’s not joking, you know.” Silco spoke up once more from behind you. You glanced back to find he had picked up his notebook and pencil, with the latter now tucked behind his ear. “Until that wound scabs over, you’re not going anywhere.” You scoffed. “You can’t keep me here.” “No.” Silco agreed, “but he’s the kind of man to send people out to keep tabs on you if you do disappear.” You turned back to Vander, expression searching. Unapologetically, he shrugged. “Can’t help that I care about my friends.” He said by way of explanation. 

You liked to pretend it was against your will that you did in fact stay the night. You liked to think that you bargained and bitched enough to almost make them relent, but in reality, you were exhausted. The clothes you changed into were a little big on you, but they were warm and clean. And it turned out that the room you were shown to did in fact have a lock on the back, and a comfortable bed.

It had to be one of their rooms, but you were too tired to pick out any personal effects. If anything, you were more amazed that the little room had a window with <i>closable</i> blinds, rather than who it belonged to. 

>_<

You knew there was a good reason why you never told Vander who you spent your days with when you weren’t free loading off of his business. You knew it was smarter not to mention anyone outside of the bar. It was a shame you hadn’t stuck to your gut whilst bleeding out that one night.

Sevika’s name had slipped out by accident. And had been such a fleeting moment, you’d assumed he hadn’t really clocked it. Let alone recognise it. But no, you just had to fall in with the nosy sort. And even better, the nosy sort with connections.

Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this situation, having just finished a job with Sevika, knuckles freshly bloodied, and your breath sawing in and out of you, only for your comrade to abruptly turn to you and ask how you knew Vander.

Your heart had just about dropped out of your ass.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because he was asking around for you.” She said simply, as if two worlds had not just collided. As if you hadn’t just had the sickening realisation that somehow Sevika and Vander KNEW each other. Or at least orbited similar enough social circles for their paths to cross.

You had to work very hard to keep your expression neutral as your mind raced and tripped over itself, trying to figure out why Vander would be looking for you of all people. 

You hadn’t done anything different. You hadn’t stepped on toes in his area of the neighbourhood. Not to mention, your injury had been weeks ago, the wound neatly scarring. He and Felicia had stopped asking after it a week or so ago. There was no reason for him to be asking after you. 

“Did he mention why he was looking for me?” You asked super calmly. 

Sevika shook her head. “No, just asked for me to send you his way if I came across you.”

“Okay, that’s weird.” You said, more to yourself than Sevika, who hummed in agreement.

“Very.” Sevika agreed, and then she turned serious “But a word to the wise, don’t keep him waiting if you know what’s good for you. Vander may act like a docile little teddy bear, but he’s still got claws.”

And just like that, you were presented with a glimpse of how the rest of the Undercity viewed Vander. Of his reputation of being that dangerous, over protective kind of guy. The kind of guy that had the Enforcers steering clear of his bar and the streets that coiled around it. It matched up well with the image you’d had of him before you’d gotten to know him.

“Well then, we done here?” You prompted, suddenly anxious to get to the bar and tell Vander to stop spreading your name around. That’s how people get noticed. That’s how people end up with targets on their back.

Sevika made a show of counting out the bills in her hand stolen from some Enforcer’s pocket. It had been a quiet day out in the furthest reaches of the Lanes, fucking with Enforcer patrols to make money and occupy yourselves. 

“Yeah, just about.” She agreed, before cleanly splitting the money in two and shoving half of the wad towards you.

“What? Not going to deal me out of a few notes? Take a personal bonus again?” You ribbed before smartly taking the offered cash and promptly tucking it into one of the inner pockets of your jacket. 

She snorted. “No. You did good today, Runt.” Was all she said, before pocketing her own cash, and leaving with a quick ruffle of your hair. 

You watched her go with a fond wrinkle of your nose. What a strange woman. Yet another oddity living amongst the Lanes of Zaun, but could you really be surprised at this point? It almost felt like you were becoming a magnet for the kinder folks of the city. Odd.

Money safely tucked out of sight, you stuffed your hand into your pockets and headed for the heart of the city, towards the glowing, green sign of The Last Drop. It was perhaps an hour or two before the establishment opened for the night in preparation for the miners who would be crawling out of their work sites, and the more criminal side of the city beginning to awaken.

The door was unlocked when you pushed on it, so you let yourself in.

As it often was at this time of afternoon, the bar within was practically deserted. The tables neatly wiped down, condiments lined up in uniform formation, chairs tucked under tables, the carpet recently cleaned. 

A lone figure stood behind the bar, polishing glasses, his back to the door and you, but you knew he’d heard the door open regardless.

“I heard you’re looking for me.” You called, as you strode confidently up to the counter.

Vander turned smoothly on his heel, a grin already tugging at his lip. His five o’clock shadow was beginning to darken his jawline already, which was strange, considering he openly hated the feeling of the tiny bristles beginning to poke through. “Ah good, you’re here.” “That I am.” You agreed, before pulling out a stool and smoothly dropping into it. It was the same one you usually took, thankfully without the blood splatter today. “Although, I wasn’t expecting to be called to heel like some common dog, want to tell me what that was about?”

At the very least, he had the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know how else to get ahold of you.”

Okay, fair enough. You could give him that. You were a difficult individual to pin down after all. “It’s fine, just don’t make it a habit.” You warned. “But it must have been serious, if you felt the need to invite me in instead of allowing me to make my way over on my own time.”

He shook his head at your theatrics. Then seemed to collect himself. Turning fully towards you, he set down his cleaned glass, tossed his rag over his shoulder, and fixed you with a very serious look that had you instinctively straining in your chair. “Look, you know I love our little social calls, but today I need a favour.”

Oh. 

You weren’t entirely sure why that struck a chord in you, but you made sure to cover it up regardless. So today wasn’t going to be fun, that was fine. If Vander finally wanted to make your presence in his establishment useful, who were you to push back.

“I see,” you said evenly, sitting back against the small backrest of the stool before crossing your arms. You tucked the sour feeling in your chest behind an amused smirk. “Oh, please do tell. What exactly could the Hound of the Underground, the Beastly Bartender of The Last Drop, need from little old me.”

Vander huffed quietly and shook his head at you. He stood on his own two feet behind the bar, and yet he still seemed to tower over you. “You’ve done your research.” He commented evenly.

You tipped your head to the side and shrugged noncommittally. “Eh, it’s hard to ignore whispers when they’re directly hissed into your ear.” You dismissed easily, before purposefully catching his gaze. “But seriously, what is it?” Vander huffed again, this time more heavily. More tiredly. He seemed to gather himself. “It’s about Silco.”

Your breath stuttered on its way into your nose. You felt yourself freeze up as your mind violently thrust you into horrifying scenarios of all the ways said man could have horrendously died in the short time since you’d last seen him.

“Is he okay?” You asked carefully, not entirely sure if you managed to keep all of the panic out of your voice. 

Vander’s own expression blanched as he no doubt understood how his phrase had come across. “Yes. Yes! He’s fine! More or less.” He was quick to reassure, almost with a frantic urgency. You found your breath came a little easier with the admission. “A little roughed up from a mine collapsing on us, but he’s okay. I just need someone to watch him.”

You blinked at him.

Vander winced back at you.

You unfolded your arms so that you could rub harshly at the bridge of your nose with a forefinger and thumb. “Vander. Did you cause ripples across town, to get me to come here and babysit your brother?”

Vander smiled shakily. “Uh, friend actually. We’re not blood related.”

“You’re practically family. Even a blind man could see it.” You deadpanned, “now answer my fucking question.” “Yes, okay? Yes. And look, I <i>know</i> he can be a handful, but that’s why I need your help. I need to work the bar tonight, so I can’t be out back to make sure he’s okay. I’ve already tried to bring in Felicia, but she’s given up on him. He’s mean when he’s in pain, and with her pregnancy symptoms she has no patience to spare for him.”

It’s almost laughable how in character that sounded for Silco. 

“Just for tonight?” You checked, and Vander nodded. The crease between his eyebrows had already begun to loosen, as if he already knew your answer. But he didn’t know you that well. Did he?

You pretended to weigh the pros and cons for a few seconds more. Pulling a contemplating and then thoughtful face at random intervals to make Vander snort. To help ease some of the tension out of his shoulders.

Finally, you leant back on your stool once more, and in a very business-like tone you said, “fine, but on one condition.”

Vander played along. With a look of equal intrigue, he leaned on his elbows on the other side of the counter, his head tilting. “I’m listening,” he purred, before adding as an afterthought, “so long as it’s within reason of course.”

You tapped your chin. Once, twice, and then blurted, “I want unmonitored access to the kitchen. Any delicacy you’ve cooked up, I deserve to taste-test it. Understood?”

He almost looked surprised by your ask. As if he had been expecting you to demand something more valuable or difficult to part with. Then a sadder note entered his eyes, and you felt pinned in place. His voice was gentle when he quietly said, “you know you don’t need an excuse for me to feed you right? If you’re hungry, you don’t have to bargain for food, it’s the least I can do.” “Maybe,” you countered, trying to smoothly wipe that expression off his face. Vander’s soft concern should not be aimed at you at all. Not only do you not need it, but you don’t feel like you really deserve it. “But food willingly given, doesn’t taste as good as when it’s stolen.” He sighed tiredly. And straightened up, until he was looking down at you once again. His expression clearly said, ‘I don’t understand you, even though I’m trying to’ but he smartly kept any thoughts like that to himself. 

“This way then, little thief.” He mused, before turning on his heel to emerge from behind the counter and lead you to one of the side doors that would give you access to the private part of the building.

The little nickname sent a pang through you. Not only was it a little too close to your actual job, but it sounded weirdly fond when Vander said it like that. Shoving all those confusing feelings promptly into a mental box, you pushed back your stool and followed. 

Vander led you through the doorway and down a staircase to a set of doors on the level below. One you immediately recognised as the door to the bedroom you’d spent the night in. Whereas the others were unfamiliar. 

With confidence, Vander led the way down the hall to one of the end rooms, which opened out into a living room that sat at the foot of a second set of stairs.

The room was on the smaller side, with enough space for a couple of couches, a coffee table and a chest of drawers. A ratty brown rug covered up the cold flagstones under the foot of the coffee table and stretched out towards both couches. 

A small fire burned low in the grate at the far end of the room, whilst a figure shrouded in a red blanket sat curled up on the couch closest to the flames. Silco sat back against the arm of the chair with his notebook spread out over his knees, and his left hand was strapped up against his chest. His long, black hair was loose around his shoulders, casting his face in shadows, and yet making his blue eyes glow in the low light.

“Ah Vander, it seems you’ve tracked down a fresh nurse for me to torture.” “You’re in a better mood than when I walked Felicia out.” Vander countered.

The blanketed man on the couch merely grinned in response, and motioned with his pencil at the glass of water and non-descript pill bottle on the coffee table by his feet. “They finally decided to kick in.” “Good.” Vander said, and with a searching look over his younger brother, he turned to you, and began listing rapid fire care instruction. “He needs another round of those pills in two hours. You can get water from behind the bar, and I’ll have dinner ready at eight.” “Noted.” You easily agreed.

“Oh, and if he starts giving you a hard time, just ignore him. He’s a glut for attention.” With that last parting nugget of wisdom, Vander patted your shoulder in camaraderie before turning for the stairs.

Silco glared at his back. “Don’t be giving away all my secrets now.” He drawled like a drama queen, to which Vander took his own advice and ignored him. The click of the door closing behind him settled a stiff tension on the little living room.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, suddenly unsure of yourself. You were used to existing on the edge of social groups, and had only ever been alone with Vander, and in pairs with the others of the trio. To suddenly be all alone with Silco, was embarrassingly daunting. 

The man in question, chose then to sigh obnoxiously, and look up from the notebook he was scribbling in. “Are you just going to stand there all evening?” He demanded.

You made a show of looking around at the empty couches, then threw your hands up as you scrambled for a response. “Do you need anything?” You asked, like an idiot. Of course he didn’t need anything. His medication had just kicked in. Silco did not look impressed. “No.” He said flatly. You nodded, “fine,” before turning and perching your ass on the very edge of the opposite sofa, as far from the fire and Silco as physically possible without sitting on the floor or crawling back up the stairs. You had come down here expecting a mouthy, feverish asshole, not a quiet, bitchy Silco. 

Gradually, the sound of pencil scraping across paper and the occasional pop and fizz of the fire allowed your muscles to relax. You found yourself sitting more comfortably on the couch, and taking out one of your knives to sharpen. It was a pretty little thing, with a wickedly sharp blade the length of your forefinger, and a smooth wooden handle, wrapped in medical tape for a stronger grip.

The grinding of the welt stone down the blade didn’t seem to upset Silco, so you kept at it. Sharpening both sides of the blade, before tucking it away in the sheath tucked in the back of your boot, and pulling out its twin to repeat the process. Then when that was done to a satisfying degree, you sat back and pulled your spare out of your overcoat’s inner pocket. 

That finally seemed to get a reaction out of your companion.

“How many of those could one person possibly need?” “More than I have.” You replied without looking up from your task. “There’s nothing worse than being elbow deep in a fight, ready to deal the finishing blow, only to realise you left one knife in the first fucker you stabbed, lost the next down a storm drain, and the last got smacked into the shadows.” Silco scoffed quietly. “True story by any chance.” “Embarrassingly true.” You agreed gravely, chancing a glance up at him through your lashes.

He sat more comfortably on his cushion on the opposite couch. Body lounging in a loose sprawl, rather than the uptight posture from before. His notebook had vacated to one knee instead of resting on both, whilst his pencil had been tucked behind his ear again. Had he been watching you?

Feeling caught, you flicked your gaze back down to your hands and finished sharpening your last knife. You could feel his eyes on you now, studying the way you held both knife hilt and whetstone.  

The silence had somehow morphed into something comfortable now. 

Enough for you to notice another sound entering the atmosphere. Silco’s quiet grumbling as he pushed at his loosely, sprawling hair. It was longer than you were expecting. Coming down to mid-bicep from what you could tell. 

“Need a hair tie?”

Silco paused in his irritated fussing, to glare at you. Then he pointedly glanced down to his strapped up arm. “Why yes, I would love for you to find amusement as I struggle to fix my hair one-handed! What a doll you are? Thank you for suggesting such torture!” He bitched.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay okay, you big baby.” You mused, allowing the barb to fall short. 

Sliding your knife and whetstone away, you rose from your seat with a groan.

Silco watched you with blatant mistrust in his expression, his body subconsciously leaning back into the couch backrest, away from you. 

Ignoring how he shrunk away, you exuded confidence as you strode towards the fireplace and rounded the back of his couch.

“Hairband?” “What are you doing?” He demanded, turning in place to glare up at you. His hair falling across his shoulders like a sweeping black cloak. 

“I’m going to braid it back for you.” You said simply. “Then it’ll be out of your way, and you won’t have to keep redoing it.” Silco’s scepticism seemed to lose its steam. The knot between his brows began to loosen as he relaxed at the explanation. “Oh.” He said lamely. 

You brushed him off by making a grabbing motion. “Hairband?” 

Jerkily, he held up his good hand to you, where his sleeve slid back up his arm to reveal two worn leather hair bands. You slid one off his wrist and slid it over your own hand.

“Great. Now just sit still and do whatever you usually do.”

At first, he was stubbornly still under your touch. Barely breathing. Barely moving. As if he was expecting a knife to the back and had to be prepared to to deflect a blow at any movement. 

When you proceeded not to try and kill him, or cut off his hair out of spite, he slowly began to unwind. 

His long fringe was lengthy enough for you to scrape it back from his face with the rest of his hair, where you neatly separated everything into three even strands, before beginning the braid low on the back of his head. You kept the loops slack so as not to give him a headache, and allow him to sleep on it later.

Silco visibly relaxed under the attention. His head tipped down towards his notebook, his pencil back in hand even though he wasn’t writing anything.

You got so lost in the task at hand, that you didn’t even register the heavenly smell of Vander’s cooking, until the man in question appeared on the other side of the coffee table, carrying two plates of steaming food. Your hands momentarily stalled in their weaving at the sight of beautifully seared meat, what looked like potatoes and some other root vegetable. Just the smell alone was enough to make your mouth begin to water. 

Vander set both plates on the table, before straightening up with his hands planted on his hips. “Well, that was fast.” He commented cheerfully, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.

Silco huffed. “What was fast?” Silco parroted, attempting to turn his head, only for you to pause braiding to firmly steer his attention forward once more.

“You’re going to fuck it up by moving.” You complained under your breath, to which he sighed again but stayed put. 

Vander’s grin somehow grew even wider. “Well for starters, this morning, you were snapping and spitting at Felicia, and now I walk in on you getting your hair braided.” “It was being inconvenient,” Silco eloquently corrected. 

Vander just shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this happening.” He lamented to himself. 

Silco bristled. “What? What are you on about?” 

“Come on-” You cut in before Vander could get him any more riled up. “Can you tease him after I’m done?” 

Silco seemed to preen, whilst Vander obediently shut his mouth on his bubbling comment. 

Taking it in stride, you confidently added, “you’re just jealous that your hair is too short for braids, Vander.” “Yes, that is exactly it.” The older man agreed sarcastically. Before he fixed Silco with a knowing look, which he promptly glared down. You pretended not to notice as you finally ran out of hair and began to neatly tie the braid off at the tail.

>_<

You stopped by the bar the following day to check up on the brothers, and was pleasantly surprised to find Silco in the main room, with his hair still braided up, whilst Felicia stood beside him and merrily declared them hair twins. 

You tried not to grin too obviously as you strode forward to join in on the conversation.

Part 1 -> Next Part

Masterlist:

[cheynovak]

Top or bottom

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: One night after beers and jokes, Y/N teasingly asks if Dean is a “top or bottom,” flustering him and sparking laughter.

Warnings: Alcohol, Mentioning: sex. Implied spice, nothing graphic.

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The bunker was alive with laughter and the clinking of beer bottles, a rare reprieve from the endless hunt. Y/N had seamlessly integrated into the Winchester family, earning the acceptance and admiration of Jack, Sam, and even Castiel, who considered her as steady and reliable as his celestial grace. But Dean? Dean was a different story.

It wasn’t that he disliked her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Y/N was the first woman since Lisa who made him feel something deeper than fleeting attraction. Her laugh softened his rough edges, and her fierce independence made his heart ache with admiration. But Dean Winchester was not a man who easily confronted his feelings, especially the ones that made him vulnerable.

Tonight, the mood was light. Empty pizza boxes littered the war room table, and everyone was a little tipsy. Dean nursed his beer, watching as Y/N, sitting cross-legged on the couch, threw her head back in laughter at one of Jack’s awkward but endearing comments.

"Wait, wait," she said, catching her breath. "Castiel, are you telling me you thought using your angel blade counted as protection?"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "Dean told me to use protection. I didn’t understand the context until later."

The table erupted in laughter, and even Cas, ever so stoic, managed a faint smile.

“God, I love this family,” Y/N said between chuckles. “I mean, you all know *so much* about each other. Sam’s stolen Deans porn stash, Castiels awkward first time..."

"Hey!" Dean interjected, pointing at Sam. "That stash was pristine until this guy got his grubby hands on it."

Y/N smirked and swirled the bottle in her hand. “Okay, Deany-boy, since you’re such an open book…” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Top or bottom?”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“You heard me,” she teased. “Top or bottom?”

The room went dead silent for a beat before Sam burst out laughing, Jack looked utterly confused, and Castiel tilted his head again, clearly filing the question away for later research.

Dean played it cool, leaning back in his chair. “Top. For sure.”

Y/N tilted her head, locking eyes with Sam as if conspiring. “So, he’s a bottom.”

Sam howled with laughter, and even Jack joined in, though he clearly didn’t get the joke. Dean opened his mouth to retort but was too flustered to find the words.

---

**Later that Night**

The others had gone to bed, leaving Y/N, Jack and Dean to clean up the remnants of their impromptu party. Y/N wiped down the kitchen table while Dean gathered the bottles, his thoughts spinning in circles.

Steeling himself, he stepped in the kitchen opening another two bottles of beer, handing her one over while he seated against the table. “Why do you think I’m a bottom?” His voice was low, roughened by both nerves and curiosity.

Y/N didn’t stop cleaning, but a smile tugged at her lips. Finally she turned to face him, getting closer, standing between his legs, so close he could smell the faint floral notes of her perfume.

“Because, Dean,” she began, her voice soft but sure, “you try so hard to be an alpha. But underneath all that bravado, you’re sweet. Thoughtful. You care about people more than you let on.”

Her hand landed on his chest, "You're a pleaser." he felt the warmth of her touch through his flannel. His heart pounded in his ears.

“Isn’t that what most women want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Strong men?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her lips curving into a small smile. “But some of us just want a nice man. Someone who makes us feel safe enough to let go, to show our imperfections. Someone we’d want to…” She paused, her cheeks flushing as she swallowed her nerves, “climb on top of and ride till we see stars.”

Dean’s breath caught as her hand slid up to his shoulder back to his hands, caressing his skin. Her gaze held his, unwavering, her touch warm, like a fire rushing through his veins.

“Someone with strong hands… but who knows how to use them softly.”

He couldn’t stop himself. His hand moved to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheek as he stood taller, leaned in closer, their breaths mingling.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mix of want and uncertainty. Her hand held on to his flannel. Pulling him in.

But the moment shattered as Jack bounded into the kitchen, the last box of pizza in his hands. “This is the last one!” he announced cheerfully, oblivious to the tension.

Y/N stepped back, her hand falling away as she turned to Jack. “That’s great, Jack. Thanks for helping.”

Dean’s hand dropped to his side, his jaw tightening as he watched her retreat. I made a fool of myself, great! He thought.

But to his surprise she shot him a playful look over her shoulder.

"Are you coming Dean?"

--

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[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Five

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

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Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

If Oscar played chess, he would have been good at it. Every move he made was calculated, always two steps ahead of everybody else. 

She probably didn't realise their dinner date was on the full moon. How could she know it had any significance when she didn't even know what was happening in this town? 

The air was electric as he drove through the wolf side of town. He was really pushing his luck, driving through on a full moon. He was scheming and calculating, sure, but he was still a gentleman. He'd never had driven through on a full moon if he didn't have to pick her up. 

He could feel it, could see the way someone stared at him. Probably a piercing, yellow stare. If he didn't knock on her door, he was sure whoever it was would have been pouncing on him, pulling him into the woods for some stern 'words'. 

But then she answered the door, looking so pretty in her sweater and skirt combination. "Hey," she said as she turned around and pulled the door shut. 

"Ready to go?" Asked Oscar as he offered her his arm. 

She took it with a smile that was too kind for this town and walked with him over to the car. He pulled the car door open for her, looking around for a flash of yellow as she climbed in. 

In the garden of the house opposite her own, Oscar saw it. Yellow eyes. He smirked, knowing full well the wolf could see it all, and climbed into the car. 

As he drove, he let her talk. It wasn't anything important, what some would describe as mindless dribble, but Oscar still listened. Like I said, he was a gentleman. 

As soon as he was out of the wolf side of town, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped and he released a breath, his grip on the steering wheel easing. He could hear a howl behind him, and it only made him smirk. 

The restaurant Oscar had picked was run by Vampires. At first, things had been hard for Vampires in this town. Integrating into this society had seemed impossible. But, over time, they'd found a way. They'd gotten jobs, opened restaurants that catered to both human and Vampire, even if the humans didn't know it. 

Oscar was a gentleman. He opened the door to the restaurant for her and pulled out her seat. 

What can I really say about the dinner? Oscar was so lovely throughout the entire thing. He was funny in a way she hadn't expected (not that she hadn't expected him to be funny). 

(Oscar couldn't eat human food. The food they placed in front of him wasn't real food, was designed to melt in his mouth. No, his real meal was in the glass in front of him, disguised as wine.)

When the date was over, he drove her back to her house. Of course, Oscar paid for the meal. He gave the waiter a tip (after a hundred years alive, he knew how to impress a woman) and took her hand as he led her back to his car. 

But there was already someone at his car. Oscar ran his tongue over his teeth as they approached, keeping his hand on the small of her back.

"Logan."

Logan was Oscar's best friend and the first person to find out his date. If he was waiting at Oscar's car, then it was because of some kind of emergency.

The smile Logan wore was shy yet charming as he offered her his hand. "Hi," he said, his pointed teeth poking into his bottom lip. The Vampires had no reason to panic, though. Such a small view of his teeth were offered that nothing looked out of the ordinary to a Human that didn't suspect anything. "I'm Logan."

She gave him her name as she shook his hand.

"I'm really sorry about this, but I need to borrow Oscar," he said, his smile still polite.

She looked to Oscar and nodded her head. "That's more than fine," she said and stepped towards the car.

Immediately, Oscar pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car. He pulled open the passenger side door for her and took her hand as he helped her into the car. "I'll back back in a minute," he said and shut the door, shutting her in the car.

He looked towards Logan and gestured for him to follow. Logan did just that. He followed Oscar away from the car, into a part of the car park with little light. But the two Vampires could still see clearly. They knew she was watching them, but let her watch. As long as she couldn't hear them.

"You've been pissing off the wolves," Logan said with the shake of his head, clearly amused.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders, but he couldn't hide the way the corner of his lips turned up. "Really?" He said through a dramatic gasp. "You don't say."

The scoff that left Logan's lips wasn't supposed to piss Oscar off. And it didn't, Oscar knew him too well for that. "Daniel came by after you picked her up for your date. He said that Lando is mad, and he's gonna be waiting for you in the woods around the back of her house," he said, nodding back towards the car.

Oscar couldn't help but laugh. "Really?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's seriously going to wait for me?" When Logan nodded, Oscar let out a quiet 'pathetic'.

"Do you want me to follow behind?" Logan offered, but Oscar shook his head.

"I got it."

He said his goodbyes to Logan and headed back to his car. She was giving him a smile, one that was encouraging and reassuring. Even if she didn't know what was going on.

"Sorry about that," Oscar said as he climbed into the car. He checked the time on his watch. "Is your dad gonna kill me for getting you home late?" He asked as he pulled out of the car park.

A melodic laugh left her lips. "You realise I'm an adult, right, Osc? I think I'm older than you."

Compared to him, she was just a baby. But he wasn't going to tell her that. He was going to let her believe that he wasn't a hundred years old.

He pulled up outside of her house. Oscar opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out of the car. He kept a hold of her hand as he walked her up to the front door. "I had a really nice time tonight, Oscar," she said as she looked up at him, making no move to open the door.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," he said. If his smile showed off his teeth, he didn't much care. But then there was a howl from the woods, and Oscar knew he had to leave. He let out a sigh and looked at their shoes. "I need to go," he said and squeezed her hand.

He stepped away from her, walked back towards his car. "Wait!" He heard her call, stopping him in his track.

There was mere seconds between Oscar turning around and her crashing into him, her lips against his own. Oscar's hands were immediately on her waist, holding her steady as he pressed his lips to her own. But, when she tried to part his lips, Oscar pulled away. Another night.

His forehead was against her own. "I'll be back, I promise."

"Tonight?" She asked, breathlessly.

Oscar drew in a sigh. He immediately knew what she was asking. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. "Not tonight," he answered and immediately saw her face drop.

Oscar kissed her again, this time quickly. "I want to," he assured her, and she set out a breath against him. "I just... I'm scared of your dad."

She laughed against him and released him. "Next time," she said, and Oscar left a promise with a kiss.

He watched as she walked back to the house and let herself in. Even then, Oscar stayed. He climbed into his car and waited until he could see her walk into her bedroom before he drove off.

He didn't drive very far, just parked his car out of the view of her house and made his way back to the woods.

Lando was easy to find. All Oscar had to was follow the sounds of snarling. Of course Oscar was snarling. His emotions was amped up with the full moon overhead.

"Oscar!" Lando barked.

There he stood, curls falling in front of his forehead as he stared at Oscar, chest heaving. His fists were clenched at his sides, veins visible up his arms. Oscar had never seen him look so goddamn angry before. It was... hot.

"What're you doing with her?"

"Maybe I like her," Oscar answered as he leaned against a tree. He watched as Lando stalked towards him, only slightly looking down at him. "Is that really the end of the world?"

Lando's fists shook. "Are you gonna turn her?"

Oscar laughed, heading hitting the tree behind as he threw it back. "We've been on one date, Norris. Don't overreact."

"Damn it, Oscar!" Lando suddenly called, his hitting the tree beside Oscar's head.

Maybe it was the way Lando said it, Oscar couldn't really tell what compelled his next steps. But, suddenly his hands were around Lando's neck as he kissed him.

There was a good minute where Lando was still, eyes wide as he felt Oscar's lips against his own. Part of him couldn't quite believe it was happening, but he didn't go to move away. He'd never admit to enjoying it, but the fact that he didn't move away told Oscar all he needed to know.

When Oscar pulled away, there was only one thing on Lando's mind. His lips. They tasted like her. His brows were furrowed, eyes furious as he kissed him again, pressing his body against the tree.

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[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

burned

percy jackson x gn! reader — you’re all alone in an alley in NYC. what could go wrong??

tw — violence

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You’re cold.

You’re cold and afraid, shaking in an alley somewhere in downtown New York.

You try to think about camp. About the rolling hills, the sweet strawberries, the campfire. About your friends, about target practice, the climbing walls.

Percy should be here. He should’ve been here— you check your watch — fifteen minutes ago. But he’s not, and your thoughts are running wild.

The wind howls louder. You shut your eyes.

The wound on your leg stings. You’re coiled around it, hunched forward in a meager attempt to shield it from whatever. Meet back here in 30, you’d told him. He nodded; you drew your dagger and he lifted riptide out of its sheath. And then you went separate ways, a desperate attempt to get the monsters off your trail, to confuse them by being in two places at once. It’d worked, partially, and you would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he’s not here. So you’re not fine.

There’s a commotion at the mouth of the alley, and your head snaps up.

A woman stumbles into view, smartly dressed with long blonde hair down to her waist. She notices you, and you freeze.

“Excuse me, do you have a map? I just can’t seem to—”

“y/n, no!”

Percy’s voice echoes off the walls, and your heart drops at his audible panic.

Her smile turns from airheaded to sinister. Fangs peek over her bottom lip.

Multiple things happen at once.

You lunge forward, dagger in hand, but she grabs your wrist with a vice grip. She squeezes, and squeezes, and you’re certain she’s going to snap your wrist in half when Percy rushes in, almost runs headfirst into the brick wall.

She wrenches the knife from your hand and turns it on you. Percy lifts riptide. You stumble backwards; the tip of riptide shines through her chest.

Two blades are thrusted forward. Twin gasps of pain meet your ears.

One of them sounds suspiciously like you.

The woman dissolves, dust flaking away to reveal Percy, breathing hard. His face is bruised. It’s upsetting, even though you really should be used to it by now. You just wish he would get hurt less.

Something throbs under your ribs. It feels like a cramp, but it gets worse and worse until it burns, You’re burning—

Your knees buckle and Percy runs to you. Your head doesn’t hit the ground, so you assume he caught you.

The entire left side of you is on fire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

The delicate skin around his eye is blooming an angry red. You reach out for it weakly, and he winces when your knuckle brushes the bruise.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly.

Percy gently grabs your hand, lowers it from his face. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”

Why does he feel so far away then?

His hands move again. You’re still cold.

Your eyes flutter, tongue lead in your mouth. You realize with dim fascination that he’s cradling your face. It’d be quite intimate if your vision wasn’t darkening at the edges.

“You’re gonna be okay. They’re almost here. Just… just stay with me.”

You have so many questions. Who’s they? Why are his hands so warm?

Percy’s looking at you with a fear in his eyes that shakes you to your very bones. His eyes rake over your face as if he’ll never see you again. You still don't understand. All you know is the sinking feeling in your chest, the creeping nothing in the corners of your eyes, and the dull ache in your side.

You don't remember closing your eyes, but you do remember Percy shaking you.

“y/n,” he pleads, voice trembling in a way that you haven't heard before. “It’s alright. Just open your eyes for me, yeah? Please— please.”

He’s shivering. You feel absolutely horrible about the whole ordeal, despite your very limited understanding of the situation. You want to assure him it’ll probably be fine, that you’ll bounce back because you guys always bounce back, but this time you’re not sure.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, the words sandpaper in your throat.

The darkness swallows you whole.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lmk if I should write a part two? I dunno if anyone will read it

[princesssmars]

thinking of soft yearning at the lodge with sam. sfw.

you walk through the dark halls quietly, not wanting to wake anyone with your silly slippers hannah bought for you for christmas. which was in a few days but she was never the most patient. just for that her crackers will be spared.

it’s around two in the morning when your stomach decides to be a bitch and tell you to raid the washington lodges pantry for snacks.

after spending so much time in the lodge the environment rarely effects you, beating winds and banging trees drowned out by your gentle humming on the way to your task as you finally make it to the kitchen.

the tile is cold even through your slippers while rummage the pantry, passing through the snacks and food everyone bought for the stay while your stomach quietly rumbles. you settle on somebody’s trail mix as you close the wide pantry doors, but you nearly jump out of your skin when someone is standing right in front of you.

“jesus christ, samantha!”

she grimaced as she held her hands up, automatically trying to calm you down and apologize. “oh my gosh i’m sorry, i thought you heard or saw me behind you-“

“behind me? yknow sometimes i forget how sneaky you are because of those weird gymnastics you took a few years back.”

“yeah yeah, whatever.” she snorts and rolls her eyes as she lightly pushes past you to get to the pantry. you hop up on the island counter behind her, stuffing your mouth with the salty pretzels and peanuts from the bag while sam idly searches for…whatever.

she grips both of the doors with her hands as she rocks back on forth on her feet while browsing and you subtly let your eyes glide over her exposed arms. it’s not your fault she looks good in a tank top.

“ugh, josh forgot to get my veggie straws again.”

“want some of chris’ trail mix? he won’t kick my ass if both of us eat it. maybe i can wake ash up for a bite.”

she laughs before picking up a random box of crackers (not hannah’s, of course) and pushing away with a sigh as she closes the doors of the pantry yet again. she pops a cracker in her mouth and chews only for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and spitting it out in the nearby garbage can.

"ugh, these are as hard as rocks," she scowls, tossing the whole box into the garbage. "god, i would kill for a burger right now. why did i go vegan again?"

"beeecause you love animals and are going to become a veterinarian?"

"oh yeah. forgot about that." the chill of the kitchen air suddenly feels amplified when she pads over to you and nudges your legs apart to stand in front of you. she wordlessly opens her mouth and waits for you to drop a pretzel inside, your eyes fixated on her lips while she chews.

“now i kjow we’ve definitely been here too long, you’re starting to act like mike.”

“hm? wha’dya’mean?” she asks through stuffed cheeks. your giggle at her behavior makes her laugh in return and rest her head on your chest as her arms wrap around your waist. you pull her into a deeper hug by wrapping yours around her shoulders and rest your head on the top of hers.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, content to just share body heat in the dim light of the kitchen as the wind and snow howls outside. your kind can’t think of what happened the last time you were cuddled together on a night like this only a year ago.

chris had sneaked up some wine from the cellar and before you knew it you and sam were plastered in her bed giggling and playfully pushing each other. until suddenly you were staring at each other, breaths mixing as you both inched closer and closer-

“hey, did you hear me?”

her question kicks you out of the memory, slightly shaking your head to reorient yourself to look down at her looking up at you. little strand of blonde hair are sticking out and you gently guide them back over her head.

“no, sorry. was just thinking. what’s you say?”

“i was just…you mentioned earlier that you’d got accepted to both davis and washington state. wanted to know if you picked one yet.”

“hmm no, i haven’t. why, you wanna be dumb freshmen together?”

“maybe, yeah. wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

it’s quiet again. your mind is mulling it over but also hyper focused on her still between your legs and looking up at you like you’re all she cares about tonight. maybe it’s the cold affecting your brain or just pure dumb hope but you swear you see her lean in just an inch-

“woah! yikes, my bad, guys.”

god, of course chris is also looking for something to eat at this hour. he awkwardly laughs as the two of you pull away from each other and start heading back, the man grunting when you shove the bag of trail mix into his chest. sam makes a shimmy movement with her hand until your fingers are entwined, the girl nearly dragging you back upstairs.

when you get to the end of the hall you plant your feet when you notice she’s dragged you to her room instead of escorting you back to yours. your heart flutters when she tugs you with a smile into the room before softly shutting the door.

“sam cmon, ‘m too tired to have a girls talk night.”

“that’s not why your here! i just,” she looks down and her thumb rubs over the back of your hand. you really hope she won’t notice the goosebumps traveling up your arm, even though you can blame it on the temperature. “i really wanna be close to your tonight. please?”

she doesn’t even need to ask, the both of you settling in under the covers before you can even think to deny her. your legs tangle and her arm immediately comes up to pull you closer as you get comfy, the pounding of your heart drowned out by the droopiness of your eyes.

so as you fall asleep you don’t notice the flush on sam’s cheeks, or the slight grip she has on your top before she tells your sleeping form ‘goodnight’ and places a soft kiss on your cheek.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 6 | chapter 7

It was midday when all of you have safely returned to the Red Keep. Joffrey was furious, ordering an attack on Stannis on that very day. Tywin was able to calm him down. Tyrion even made a funny comment how the King had no right complaining when he hadn't even bled a small drop of blood from the fight.

Oberyn had observed your wounds when he removed your armor. The cut wasn't too deep, yet your cousin remained worried as if scared he'd get a scolding from your father if you were harmed under his care. "You'll live," Ellaria said, chuckling. Laughing from Oberyn's odd concern, you commented back that it was only a scratch.

One knight suddenly approached you, ordering you to see Maester Qyburn to tend to your wounds immediately.

Ready to dismiss him for you know you didn't need to be stitched, you stopped short when he added, "Queen's orders."

Oberyn only shrugged his shoulders when you looked at him for help.

~~~

Almost a couple of minutes had gone to waste waiting for Qyburn in the Maesters' Keep. You had probably touched and observed any liquid, object or scroll inside the room before a knock on the door startled you, you almost dropped a vial of liquid from your grasp.

"Forgive me, Maester-" It wasn't Qyburn at the door but the Queen Cersei herself.

She carefully approached you with a box of liquid and bandages of her own before she pulled out a seat for you. "Sit."

You did as you were told, just like the last time.

"Aw! Seven hells!" you complained when she began carefully cleaning the wound on your arm.

"If you could only stop moving, this would all be over soon," she said as she moved to the bandages. The touch of her skin on yours ignited the flame inside you. After a moment, she asked softly, "What happened there?"

Thinking she was worried about her son, you sighed. "We met some of Stannis' soldiers in the forest. They weren't supposed to be there. I think they had a different business other than attack us," remembering Lady Melisandre's gaze, "we just happened to be in the way."

"And I thought you were all well equipped warriors in Dorne," Cersei scoffed as she poured myrrh to the wound on your leg.

"Aw!"

Cersei rolled her eyes at you before continuing to wrap bandages around your wounded leg. You then answered, "I was . . . distracted."

When the Queen had finished, she said, "I forbid you to join any battle from now on."

You smiled, before laughing. "It's just a scratch, Your Grace."

"If it's only a scratch, then why are you screaming and howling like a hound?"

Letting out a nervous laugh, you watched Cersei gather the items back into the box. You swallowed a lump in your throat as silence enveloped the both of you once again.

"I'm sorry," Cersei muttered so softly, bottles clinking as she went on to clear the mess.

"Pardon me, Your Grace?"

She cleared her throat before speaking the words again. "I'm sorry. I know I have offended you."

You quickly looked down as you avoided her gaze, not wanting to see her how it had affected you.

"It doesn't matter," you said, standing up from your seat. "It will not change the fact that I'm just a nobody. That my father shouldn't have named me a Martell because I'm truly just a Sand." The Sands were the bastards in Dorne.

The Queen pulled your chin up to look at her and all you could see from her eyes were concern and adoration as she shook her head. "No. No, you're not."

Cersei grabbed your collar as she kissed you, making you gasp. It was a soft and slow one, hesitant to see if you would reciprocate, testing the waters to check if you still want her.

And you still wanted her.

You returned her kisses with the same passion she had provided. After a moment, she pulled off from the kiss as she leaned her forehead against yours, breathless with eyes closed. She slowly opened them and met your hooded gaze.

"Y/n," she called out softly.

Your hand crept to her face as you pressed your mouth against her open lips. Desire exploded as you kissed each other desperately. She clutched unto the back of your head while the other on your shoulder as she pressed your bodies together.

Licking her lower lip to seek entry, you were granted, making her moan into the kiss as you tasted her. Her fingers fisted your hair as she suddenly pulled you off her a mere inch away, making you grunt. Panting at each other, her eyes darted from your wet lips up to your eyes then back to your mouth before she reconnected your lips again.

The sound of a door creaking open caused the both of you to jump apart as fast as lightning.

"My apologies if I took so long, Your Grace," Maester Qyburn said, oblivious of the tension between you and the Queen. "Oh, Lady Y/n, I didn't know you were injured too."

~~~

Remnants of Cersei's taste lingered on your mouth as you stared blankly ahead. You were in Oberyn and Ellaria's chambers for the night, discussing about the attack that happened earlier that morning, whether it was staged by the Lannisters or not. It was brought to your attention that none of the Lannisters were physically harmed or even meddled into the fight. Intriguing.

"Did you even listen to what I just said?" Oberyn's voice raised.

Blinking, you quickly apologized. You could feel Ellaria's eyes on you, as if analyzing what has been bothering you for quite some time. You even avoided dining with the royal family.

Nodding, you answered, "After Joffrey's wedding, we're setting sail back home to Dorne."

"And before that?"

You sighed, picking on the bandage Cersei had delicately wrapped around your arm. "Remain inside the Red Keep and keep out of trouble."

"And that means?"

You fell silent, knowing that you couldn't promise yourself to stay away from the Queen, not after what happened.

"Y/n!" Oberyn called, snapping his fingers.

"She's in love," Ellaria declared, making you look at her. "You're already in love with her."

Oberyn stated, "She's already obsessed with her, my dear-"

"No, it was infatuation before. But now, it's love," Ellaria said.

You only avoided the couple's gaze.

Your cousin sighed. "Y/n-"

"I know," you interjected. "She's a Lannister. Stay away from the Lannisters."

Oberyn carefully approached you before putting his hand on your shoulder. "Once we're safely back in Dorne, there's an important matter that your father would like to discuss with you."

And you were too furious to even care about going home.

~~~

A knock on the door brought you out of trance. You were just mindlessly looking through the map of the Capital where you got attacked by Stannis' soldiers. What were they doing there? And why was Melisandre, the Red Woman, staring at you as if she knew you?

"My Lady," the handmaiden assigned to your care announced. "The Queen is here to see you."

You turned to look at the door and there Cersei stood looking so effortlessly beautiful.

"Leave us," she said to the girl.

Once the handmaiden left, Cersei locked the door. You straightened from your posture, knowing her intentions.

"Your Grace," you greeted, eyes not leaving hers. You could still remember her taste, her softness, her warmth. And you missed it dearly.

"How's your wound?" she asked, genuine concern laced into her voice. Cersei kept on surprising you.

"It hurts from time to time, but it's healing," you answered, slowly creating a distance away from the Queen. Yet the Queen didn't seem to back down from the challenge.

"Do you want me to request Maester Qyburn to send you milk of the poppy?"

"I can handle it, Your Grace. But thank you."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"It's just a scratch, Your Grace-"

"You have been avoiding me for three days," she interrupted.

You licked your lips nervously. "I didn't know you were counting-"

"And yet you still act so coy around me," she spat, as she walked towards you until your back almost hit the wall. "Sometimes you're so . . ."

"So what, Your Grace?"

Cersei stared into your eyes, searching for something. "So arrogant as if I. . ."

"As if you what?" You didn't dare to move any more as she had managed to trap you, her face leaning so close to yours, you could literally smell her floral scent you had grown to miss.

"I . . ."

Both of your lips were inches away, barely touching.

She then whispered breathlessly, "As if I . . .I want you."

Cersei's eyes darted from yours to your mouth, before looking back at you.

You asked, "Do you? Do you want me?"

Pulling you into a desperate kiss was her answer. Your back hit the wall as she pressed herself unto you. Hungry mouths desperately kissed each other, hands touching and brushing each part of your body. It didn't take any longer and you were already feeling so much aroused, you had no doubt she was able to feel it against her stomach.

One of her hands unwrap from your hair and began travelling to your breasts, squeezing them to get a moan out of you.

"Cersei," you gasped. She pulled away from your kiss. Then she slipped her hand further down your breeches until she was cupping and stroking your crotch.

"What are you doing?"

Cersei ignored your question, focused on planting a kiss on your chin, then another on your jaw then to your neck and then under your ear, lips nibbling against your lobe. The action made you tremble, your throat letting out a strained groan.

You could feel her breath on the skin of your neck as she whispered so coyly near your ear, "I'm going to suck your cock."

"Cersei-" Your brain stopped working when you could feel the Queen's hand moved against your thickening shaft, making you lean further against the wall.

She went on peppering kisses all over your face and neck, intentionally avoiding your lips. "Oh gods, your hand feels so good."

The Queen chuckled softly as she sucked the skin on your jaw. "Is that so? Wait until you feel my mouth."

You had lost it, eyes rolling to the back when you felt Cersei slip one hand into your breeches and curl her fingers around your hardness. It made you groan out embarrassingly loud.

"Not feeling so coy now, are you, Y/n?" she challenged, observing your face contorted in pleasure. Her hand stroked your entire length firmly until you could feel a small drop of precum, rendering you to hear the lewd action.

"You are so hard for me, My Lady," Cersei cooed, her other hand cupping your face to urge you to look at her. Then she leaned forward and captured your waiting lips, desperation still present as fierce as before.

Abruptly, she pulled back and dropped to her knees, her fingertips curling into the band of your breeches before pulling it down.

You let out a pathetic whimper the moment you felt Cersei's tongue on the tip of your cock, which was already throbbing against the hand wrapped around the shaft. It wasn't a wise decision to look down upon her already staring back at you with hooded eyes, slipping your entire length into her mouth.

"Cersei, mmmm," you arched your back, head falling back against the wall as you tried to hold unto your surroundings. Books you had managed to touch fell from the shelves until your hand managed to find the surface of your table and held unto it, your knuckles turning white.

Cersei pulled you out and you instantly missed the warmth from her mouth. "Use me," she ordered.

"I don't want to hurt you," you stammered, your other hand finding her cheek as you brush a strand of her hair over her ear. Cersei held your hand and guided it to the back of her head before she went to take you in. Moaning against your length, the Queen encouraged you to move your hips and you did as you were told, fucking yourself into her mouth.

"Gods, Cersei, I'm . . . "

Wet sounds of skin and strained groans filled the entire chamber. Cersei moved with fervor as she sucked you eagerly, faster and faster each second, all the while her hand kept on stroking the base. You knew you wouldn't last another second, when your movements turned sloppy and uncoordinated.

But as you attempted to pull out upon your nearing release, it was of no surprise she held you firmer and deeper, the tip of her nose now touching your pelvis, until you could feel the tightness and warmth from her throat. Your rhythm faltered and the tightening in your belly snapped.

Hot bursts of cum spurted into the Queen's mouth and she took it. The sound of your helpless grunting only spurred Cersei to suck harder until there was nothing left to milk, swallowing everything from you.

"Seven hells, My Queen," you panted breathlessly as she stood. She didn't even give you some time to recover when she met your lips in a passionate kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you back to her, heading to your bed.

She leaned her forehead against yours as she chuckled, "I'm not done with you yet."

[moonstruckme]

hello! :D I'm not sure if your request are open but if they are could you please write about reader and marauders playing a game something like answering questions and if they don't answer they have to drink and reader is asked who they would rather kiss (or something along those lines) out of them all and reader says Remus and they both get all flustered and the rest of the group is teasing them and whatnot and they end up telling each other about their feelings for one another like the next day or something

im sorry if this ask is like all over the place anywhooo thank you so much!<3 i love your writing btw :)

My requests are open babe, thank you!

cw: drinking game

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and your laughter bubbles up out of you with scarcely any prompting. 

“Alright, alright,” Marlene says, “James, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

James hardly hesitates. “Quidditch pitch.”

You slap a palm across your mouth, and your little circle bursts into howling laughter. 

“It was really dark, though!” James justifies. “No one would’ve been able to see us if they’d looked. Anyway, my turn.” He looks around the circle, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Pads.” Sirius looks up. “When you said you’d never had sex in my bed, were you lying?”

Sirius presses his lips together, looking suspiciously like he’s suppressing a smile, and drinks. 

“Wha—that’s as good as an answer!” James sputters. “You prick, learn some boundaries!” 

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Sirius shrugs. “Okay…y/n.” You bite your lip, doing your best to make your eyes look wide and sweet in the hopes he’ll go easy on you. “Of everyone here right now, who would you rather kiss?”

You freeze, trying to keep your gaze from darting to your immediate answer. “I…I don’t know,” you say. 

Sirius shakes his head, smirking. “Not good enough, sweetheart.” 

“Careful,” Marlene warns, “I don’t know if you can handle drinking much more.” 

“Yeah, Pads, just let ‘er off,” Remus says. “Don’t make her sick because of you.” 

“All she has to do is answer,” Sirius argues, but it’s alright, because you’ve seen your opening.

You take it. “Remus,” you say, as though the idea has just occurred to you, “because he’s being nicer to me than the rest of you.” 

The group erupts in cheers and boos, and Remus’ cheeks color pink. 

“Plus,” you go on, emboldened by the warmth of booze in your chest, “he wouldn’t make it weird. None of the rest of you would ever let me forget it.” 

“Oi!” James protests. “I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Yeah, right,” Marlene laughs. “Sirius, who did James kiss last week?”

Sirius tilts his head. “Do you mean on Sunday or Tuesday?”

Marlene smirks. 

“Whatever,” James says, but he’s smiling. “You’re all just jealous, Y/N too. Remus, you’d better take good care of this one. She’s got high standards, apparently.” 

Now your face is warming too, and Remus nudges you with his shoulder. “It’s your turn, love,” he says. “Get him back.” 

You grin. “Excellent idea. James, did you sleep in your bed after you thought Sirius had sex in it?”

James eyes go wide behind his glasses as his cheeks redden, and Remus chuckles beside you. 

As usual, it’s you and Remus cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed. James would typically at least offer to help, but he’s busy patting Sirius’ back as his friend purges everything he drank tonight in the community bathroom. You’d offered to tidy yourself and let Remus go upstairs, but he’d only said “don’t be silly” and started picking up discarded cups alongside you. 

“It got a bit much tonight, didn’t it?” you ask, aiming for casual but only hitting awkward.

Remus hums. “I don’t think any more than usual.” He gives you a knowing look, made worse by his tiny smile. “They don’t usually pick on you, though, so I’m sure it felt different.” 

You laugh nervously. “I guess so. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it, huh?”

“Well, they make it easy to dish,” he says mildly. “Anyway, it’s like you said. If you’d even said you’d kiss any of them, they’d never’ve shut up about it.” 

You tense but nod, bending to dab at a stain of spilled drink someone left in the rug. “Yup. That’s why I picked you.” 

“Is that the only reason?”

You turn, and Remus is looking at you evenly despite his flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says softly, kindly, “that if they’d asked me, I would’ve picked you too. So I guess I’m just wondering, would you have picked me, if you weren’t worried about everyone teasing you?”

The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s ready to accept whatever answer you give. Remus is watching you curiously, but there’s a bashfulness around his eyes. He wants to know, but he’ll let you off the hook in a second if you indicate that’s what you want. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I’d pick you.” 

Remus looks like the breath goes out of him. He takes a step toward you. “Why?” 

“I don’t need a reason,” you admit. Not one that makes sense, anyway. It’s just him. 

Remus’ smile is borderline shy. “I’ve got tons.” 

“Yeah?” It’s more breath than word. 

“Mhm. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“That’s okay,” you say, and rise on your tiptoes, kissing him. 

Remus kisses just like you knew he would. Soft and sweet, with little hints of urgency in the press of his hand against your back, the insistent sound he makes in the back of his throat. And you don’t need a single reason to want to kiss Remus Lupin, but you’ve got tons too.

[ficeacs]

Dragons Fight, Little Light (Prologue)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Two dragons of a different scale that were meant to loathe one another instead found the love and comfort they had always sought. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 7,573

“How long are we to stay?” Eraena asked, already displeased by what she had seen from a distance. She was still up in the heavens and the stench of the capitol already made her want to retch. “It smells like shite,” She hears her father call from a distance, and she felt her lips twitch upwards in agreement. Eraena undid the ropes that secured her to her saddle and was assisted off her mount by her brother. “Looks like it, too,” Jacaerys snickered and grimaced at the view of the outside. 

“Lykiri, Alina, lykiri, my girl,” Eraena sighed as she stepped closer to her dragon, mumbling the words against her snout and pressing her lips against the scales of her beloved dragon. “But seriously, how long are we to stay?” Eraena asked once more, and she heard her mother snort. “We’ve only just arrived, my sweet,” Rhaenyra said as she threaded towards the wheelhouse. “Come, your brothers are waiting,” She smiled and led out her hand for her daughter to take. Eraena turned to her. Her silver hair shone upon the capitol sun, her pale skin looking even paler against her black dress, her figure lithe, wide purple eyes crinkling as she smiled at her. Eraena could not help but compare herself to what her Mother looked like once more. 

Where her Mother was light, she was dark; where she was true, Eraena was not. Where silver hair was supposed to grow, there were instead dark locks. Amethyst eyes that shone brightly turned to obsidian. The features of a doe had turned to look like those of its prey. Eraena scowled. Now, she was once again subjected to more talk as they returned to this wasteland. 

“Stop scowling,” Jacaerys said, and the girl rolled her eyes. “I will do as I please, brother; I do not stop you from expressing yourself. I say nothing when you pout, why must you stop me?” She questioned and placed a pillow upon her lap as she took her seat. The wheelhouse housed five of them: Rhaenyra and her husband, along with her three elder children. The three watched as the twins started to argue. A knowing smile came along the eldest Targaryen, but his wife sighed, growing tired of watching and hearing the two argue for the past six and ten years. 

“Because you look ghastly when you scowl, do you wish for them to see the once beautiful and renowned princess, the pearl of the realm, look like a witch ready to cast them with a spell?” Eraena’s eyes widened upon her brother’s words. She had no come back to defend herself, no insult to throw at her brother, so she pinched his arm in frustration. Jacaerys howled and glared at his sister, ready to retaliate with another insult. “You two, enough roughhousing!” Their Mother chastised them before he could even open his mouth. 

“Jace called me a witch! I was only defending myself, Mother!” Eraena reasoned. “Be that as it may, a princess does not inflict harm to those who give her petty and untrue insults,” The girl’s shoulders deflated, and she could see from the side of her eye the smirk on her brother’s lips. “Your mother is right; when an insult is levied at you, you must not resort to violence,” Eraena stared oddly at her Father, “You resort to violence all the time!” She argued, and Rhaenyra turned to her husband with a small smile on her lips. “Well,” He said and thought for a moment. “Best armor up, Jacaerys, if you plan to throw more insults at your sister.” The younger prince rolled his copper eyes and turned to the slats of the wheelhouse that revealed the city. 

When they arrived in the keep, only one thing was shared amongst the family. Disgust. It seemed that in the nine years, it was not only the children that had been subjected to change but also the keep. Eraena traced the stitching of her dress as she looked around the castle they once called home. 

“It’s… clean,” she says, trying to find a positive. “Do not lie to yourself, daughter.” Her Father bit in ancient tongue, making her bite down on her cheeks. “How could they let this happen?” Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes roaming around the hall. “Why is there a seven-pointed star here? Have they turned the keep into a sept?” Jacaerys asked as he eyed the figure hanging above them. “I would say it is nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” Their Mother said in disbelief, her hand resting on her swelling bump. “Hm,” her husband hummed and stepped further into the keep; his Valyrian gaze filled with nothing but repulsion. 

Erarna turned to Jacaerys, who was tugging their younger brother along. “Where are you two going?” She questioned, “Tiltyard, care to join, sister?” Eraena made a face of contempt, making Jace chuckle, and hurriedly pulled their younger brother away. “Come, let us visit your grandsire,” Rhaenyra called and led out her hand for her daughter to take. Eraena chewed on her lip as they passed hallway upon hallway. It was the same as she remembered, yet at the same time, it was not. How can something so familiar be so strange at the same time? 

As they entered the room, Eraena was appalled at how they had left it unclean and how they had let it dust away. The figurines that her grandsire once cherished were now filled with cobwebs and held the remnants of neglected time. She turned to her Mother, the disgust on her face unfading. She was too preoccupied eyeing the figurines that Eraena had not noticed that her parents had disappeared to the other half of the king’s chambers. The girl blew away the dust of the models, and her fingers itched to hold them once more. Her eyes closed in on a specific figure, and as she made her way to reach and inspect it closely, her name was called. 

“Eraena,” Her Father called and motioned his head for the girl to join them. She made quick steps to where they stood. Eraena caught a glimpse of her grandfather lying unmoving on the feathered bed, and she was certain that it was a corpse. The king’s corpse that was left rotting and decaying. She took a sharp intake of breath as the king’s hand twitched. “E… Eraena? Is that you? Oh, my sweet granddaughter.” She heard the frail voice, and she turned to her Mother and Rhaenyra only urged her daughter to step closer even though Eraena���s face was filled with apprehension and perhaps even fear.

Eraena held back her look of shock at the state of the king. “It is. I’m here, grandfather,” she said and kneeled upon his bed. “Oh… you look just like her,” Eraena could see a smile starting to form upon his grey, cracked lips. “H-her?” She asked and gave a quick look to her Mother. Who in their family could she possibly look like? It was notable that there were scarce things that she had inherited from her Mother. “Aemma, my Aemma…” Eraena could only sadly smile. Her grandsire was truly fading. “A beauty you three are,” The frail king coughed and pointed to his side, and Eraena turned to the table beside her and retrieved the cup placed on it. The king took big gulps as his granddaughter held the cup to his grey and cracked lips. Eraena’s brows scrunched as the liquid emitted a certain odor. 

She turned to her Father with a confused look on her face; Daemon only nodded. “Thank you,” The king said, and Eraena placed down the cup. “You must rest, Father; we— we will return after you rest,” Rhaenyra said in great concern, but her voice was soft and tried to hide her distress. Daemon took hold of her hand, and Eraena followed her parents toward the fireplace of the chambers. “See to it your brothers do not get themselves into any trouble; you were always the best at handling those two.” Her Mother smiled and cupped her cheek. “I do not see why; Jacaerys is older than me; he should play peacekeeper, not me.” The girl sighed. “Only by ten minutes, and your brother does not hold the same senses in him. Now go,” She smiled at her daughter sweetly, giving a loving pat on her behind as Eraena walked to exit the King’s chambers. 

Eraena walked the halls and kept her head held high. The whispers of the court seemed to scream at her. It’s not as if she were surprised; she had heard all the vile rumors and whispers of vipers, and sadly, they were true. Eraena drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders, standing tall. Whispers of vipers should not matter to princesses, she reminded herself. Eraena stood above the tiltyard in search of two boys in blue. As she reached the tiltyard, her eyes passed the silver hair fluttering with every skillful move the fighter made, and she told herself not to grow distracted. Finally, she saw her brothers and made a beeline to where they stood. They had blocked her view; well, Jacaerys did. The prince had grown a few inches taller than his twin sister, but their younger brother still did not reach Eraena’s height.

“What are you doing here?” Jacaerys asked. “Mother sent me. She feared you two may cause trouble.” Jacaerys scoffed. “Us? Were you not the one caught multiple times trying to sneak out of the castle in the dead of night?” Her twin countered. “I believe she had even bribed the guards when she would return home drunk,” Lucerys added. Eraena rolled her eyes. “That was in Dragonstone; I am completely behaved here. It is you two who had unending squabbles and petty fights with our uncles.” As the words left her lips, their attentions shifted toward the crack of wood and the violent swings of a Morningstar. 

Ser Cole made to strike his Morningstar at the silver prince, who had dodged every attempt. Eraena turned away, not particularly enjoying the scene of battle; the girl looked around at the space and noted that, unlike in the inside of the keep, the tiltyard had not been changed. The crowd’s applause brought her away from her thoughts. “Well done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys in no time. They heard the knight say. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” came the reply. 

Eraena took hold of my brother’s arms and linked them with her own, “Come, let us go. The smell of sweat unsettles me,” She said and attempted to tug at them. “Nephews, have you come to train?” They hear the one-eyed prince call. Eraena caught his eye and reminded herself to keep her expression neutral, which she had failed. When her eyes were captured by the prince, she was quick to look away as a man shouted a command. Eraena turned to look at the gates and saw the reason why they were all there. Vaemond Velaryon entered the yard with his bannermen and passed the three siblings with a pointed look. Eraena licked her lips and tightened her hold on Lucerys’ arm, feeling her younger brother grow still and nervous. When Vaemond passed, the princess turned to Jacaerys. “Now, can we go?” She whispered, and he nodded. 

“Not so fast,” the prince said, and Eraena watched as he twirled the sword in his hand—a malicious grin on his lips. “You still have not greeted your uncle. Has your stay in Dragonstone made you so impolite?” There was no indication of anything on Eraena’s face, making the prince tilt his head in challenge. “Hello, uncle,” Eraena said, the last word foreign on her tongue. That was all she said before she turned away and walked upward, away from the tiltyard and with her brothers in tow. She gave no second glance at the silver prince even though she was tempted so. 

“Where are you going?” Jacaerys asked as he matched his sister’s hastened steps. “To greet Rhaena, I reckon she and the babes have arrived by now,” she said and turned a corner. “Then where are we supposed to go?” Eraena paused and looked at her brothers. She shrugged; she did not even know why she was even sent to the tiltyard— she only knew they were to stir clear of any conflict. “Just do not… engage… or cause trouble. Avoid them at all costs; I know I will. There is a lot at stake at the moment,” 

“But we wanted to train,” Lucerys said, and Eraena turned to her older brother. “Perhaps later than then, when Aemond and Ser Criston had finished. Or perhaps find other grounds to train.” She suggested and Lucerys gave a small nod at her offered solution. “There you three are!” Rhaena exclaimed by the end of the hall. “Joffery would not let me leave, kept insisting me to play that insipid game you invented for him,” She said to her sister who she greeted with a kiss on her cheek. “Ah, another victim of flowers and thorns.” Jacaerys snickered. “I eventually got so tired that I accidentally threw it overboard.” Eraena’s eyes widened, “Why would you do that? I spent days painting and mapping out that board!” She asked her sister in shock. 

“I’m sorry! But we had been playing since the ship had left the harbor in Dragonstone! I grew tired at the sight of it!” Eraena sighed and nodded, understanding her sister’s actions. “When is Baela to arrive?” Eraena asked, and the three shrugged, “She had not said in her letter, but I would think it would be the day before the trial.” Rheana replied. “So, today?” Lucerys asked. Eraena could see the obvious nervousness in her brother. She went to ruffle his hair, a comfort she often did since they were children. 

“You’ll be all right. You are the true heir of Driftmark; no second son can take that from you.” Eraena’s furrowed brows deepened as her brother shook his head. “I—I am not even supposed to be the heir! It was supposed to be you,” he reasoned. “Well, take it up with the gods. They did not give me a cock, and in consequence, I cannot have Driftmark, and you must bear this.” She tried to jest. “Eraena,” Jacaerys scolded with her choice of words. “It is unfair! Not just to you, but Lucerys as well. You are the second born! It was clear that whatever was in between your legs, you were set to inherit Driftmark.” Rhaena huffed. 

“Well… no. It was clarified that whatever gender Mother’s first child would be, they would inherit the throne. It was not the same condition when it came to Driftmark.” Jacaerys explained. “It’s fine, truly, I am perfectly contented on being the heir of Dragonstone,” Eraena added. “I should hope so, especially when A—“ Rhaena caught herself before she could continue her sentence, both of the girl’s eyes widening. “Especially when what?” Jacaerys asked, quick to catch the secret between the two girls. The two girls looked at each other, sending messages with their eyes. “When what?” Jacaerys repeated. “Nothing,” Rheana quickly said. “No, you were clearly going to say something; what is it?” Jacaerys urged. “Nothing, I—“ Rhaena was saved when another voice was heard at the end of the hall. 

“Sisters?” Baela’s voice carried, and the four forgot what they were talking about. “Baela!” Eraena said excitedly as she hurriedly made their way to them. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” She said gleefully, enveloping the two girls in her embrace. “Just them?” Jacaerys asked, and the newly arrived princess rolled her eyes. “You two, as well.” She said. “When have you arrived?” Lucerys asked. “Just now, I rode with grandmother on Melys,” Eraena smiled at an image of Baela atop the clouds with their grandmother flashing through her mind. Moondancer was still growing for her to take such a trip, so it made sense they rode together. 

The five, were now finally complete. They walked along the halls of the keep and engaged in conversation and exchanging anecdotes of their time spent apart. They reached the gardens, and Eraena detached herself from the group and observed the flowers that the keep held. So many variants that did not grow in Dragonstone. She took a yellow flower in her hand, feeling the petals between the tips of her fingers, the voices of her siblings growing farther away. She raised the flower to her nose and frowned at the lack of fragrance. 

“Eraena,” she heard her name called. The girl turned from the flower and saw as the queen stood behind her. “My Queen,” She said and quickly curtsied. “I see you are enjoying the gardens…alone... unescorted?” She questioned with a raise of her auburn brow. “Oh— my siblings are…” she drifted from her sentence, noticing they had disappeared. “I was with my siblings; I only got distracted by the flowers.” She reasoned. Eraena watched the queen’s lips thin, clasping her hands in front of her. “Best find them, princess. It is not advisable… or even seen proper to see you roam the keep unescorted. Would not want a fate befall twice.” Eraena was confused and wanted to question the queen’s words, but for this instance, she only nodded and excused herself to find her siblings. 

She took hold of her skirts as she made fast steps to find the group. She had wandered the lower floor of the keep for some time and she still failed to find her siblings. Eraena disregarded the plan to find the four and made her way to her assigned chambers. She mindlessly walked the halls, her head filled with other thoughts— thoughts that preoccupied her so that she had crashed with another. “Watch it,” She heard the cold voice of Aemond, unlike earlier, the smirk on his lips was long gone. “Sorry,” The girl quickly said and stepped away from the prince to continue her walk. No other spare glance was given, 

“Watch where you walk, Lady Strong.” At those words, Eraena stilled. She turned to her uncle; the smirk on his thin lips had returned quickly. Should she retaliate? she thought, then remembered the words she uttered to her brothers just a few moments before. Eraena licked her lips and walked away, taking the prince's smirk with her. 

Night soon came, and supper was held in her Mother’s chambers. “Vaemond had arrived,” the eldest prince said. “We know we were there to welcome the second son of the tides,” Eraena replied, and her Father raised his brow in question. “Tomorrow is the trial. We must all be ready for whatever those cunts throw at us.” Eraena’s eyes widened when Baela choked on her wine; it seemed that she had forgotten how crass her Father was. “How was your exploration of the keep?” Rhaenyra asked the five. 

“Eraena disappeared,” Jacaerys answered. “I did not! You left me in the gardens then I could not find you four,” She explained. “Mother, are we not allowed to venture here unescorted? The queen said it was improper for me to be without an escort.” She asked. She had never heard of such a rule that she must be escorted in broad daylight. “She said, ‘Would not want a fate befall twice.’ What did she mean?” Eraena added. Her parents exchanged a look, and the princess waited for an answer. 

“Nothing, she meant absolutely nothing,” Rhaenyra said. Eraena’s eyes flew to her hands, playing with her rings. She nodded and turned to her sisters. “You must tell us about your ventures warding in Driftmark. It seems that Rhaena and I have scarce topics to discuss these past days,” Eraena said. Her sister nodded. I was hoping you two would be the ones to tell stories. It was dreadfully lonely there in Driftmark.” 

“Oh, you should tell her about Arthur,” Rhaena said in excitement, and as if it were a reflex, Eraena’s cheeks pinked, and Jacaerys joined in their conversation as he heard an unfamiliar name. “Whose this… Arthur?” He asked and made the girl roll her eyes, pushing him away. “None of your concern, brother.” 

“Mother, Eraena’s hiding something from us,” he tattled, and Eraena could not help herself but pinch his arm once more. “Hush!” she whispered harshly. “Leave your sister alone, Jacaerys; she is entitled to keep some secrets to herself.” Eraena gave her brother a smug look before returning her gaze to the two. “Tonight, let us exchange our stories without bother,” she said, and the two nodded eagerly. 

It was high night when Eraena made quiet steps to her sister’s chambers, a candle in her hand. There was a storm brewing, and Eraena jumped with every clap of thunder. She was finally nearing the room when a gust of wind blew out the candle she held. Eraena was in the dark; the moon and stars gave no light to guide her way. The princess squinted her eyes and prayed she would not trip. Another clap of lightning, and the girl jumped with a squeak of shock. Her heart was beating violently in her chest. Finally, she found her way to her sister’s room. “Gods, you took so long! We thought someone had caught you!” Baela said and pulled her in. “Now, tell me all there is on this… Arthur,” she said and made Eraena sit atop the feathered bed. 

She and Rhaena exchanged knowing looks. “I met him a year ago when he had started his training to be a knight in Dragonstone.” The girl started, and Baela nodded. “I was in the gardens, picking flowers for our rooms, and he was trying to hide from the wrath of his commanding officer.” Eraena tried to control the smile rising on her lips as she recalled the day. “So he hid behind me as Ser Samuel tried to find him. For an hour, he stayed crutched down behind me, moving where I had moved and us just talking and jesting.” Baela and Rhaena watched as the obsidian eyes of their sister twinkled, and the blush grew on her cheeks. “He’s kind, funny, and oh gods, he’s so tall and… dashing,” Eraena said, struggling to paint a clear picture of the soon-to-be knight. “Oh, gods, you love him!” Baela exclaimed, making Rhaena laugh. Eraena scoffed. “I do not! I— I like him, but I do not believe I love him. Not yet, at least,” she mumbled the last part, but it was heard clearly by the two.

When the following morning came, it was the day of the trial. The princess stared at herself in the mirror as a handmaid readied her. Womanhood had taken its full effect on her. Eraena's gaze paused on her thighs, and she could not help but frown. Never in her life had she the gap between her thighs that she saw most women had. There was a small pouch above her sex that Eraena had tried hard to be rid of. Her hips flared at what she found at an alarming and annoying rate; most of her dresses had clung to her waist but had difficulty conforming to the princess’ hips. Eraena’s gaze moved to her chest. Her Mother used to lovingly tease the girl about the ampleness of it until she thankfully stopped as she realized Eraena had grown quite conscious about it. 

The princess took in a deep breath and moved to wear her dress—a black gown with gold laces and an embroidery of a dragon that she had made herself. Her fingers brushed the gold lace on the square neckline, teasing a hint of her bosom. “You outdid yourself on the design, princess,” Lyn, her handmaid, complimented, making the princess smile, and a ‘thank you’ escaped her pink lips. “What of your hair?” Lyn inquired. “A few braids, at the top, and can you make use of the ruby clips Father had recently given me?” Ereana waited patiently as Lyn did her hair, a book finding itself in her hands.  

She walked with Jacaerys to the throne room, their parents behind them. “Do you not think you are a tad overdressed?” Jacaerys asked his sister. Eyeing the gown she had fashioned. Eraena, like their mother, wore expensive gowns. The finest silk, the purest of cotton, the most lustrous pearls, the most brilliant jewels, and the most shining gold are what she and her mother often wore. Jacaerys had no reservations before; however, now, it made him nervous to enter the throne room with his sister fashioning such a dress, especially with such a neckline and bodice conforming to her body. “Excuse me?” Eraena asked in disbelief, almost offended. 

“Good luck, son,” Rhaenyra jested as she passed her twins. Daemon chuckled and eyed the two, ready to argue once more. “There is no such thing as overdressed Jacaerys,” she says, and her brother struggles to look her in the eye. “Women have little to express themselves, brother. You must understand that the way I dress is my way to show my support to this family since I have given little say in this matter, and I know my opinion would not be valued as much as a man's; this is the only way I can take my stand.” Eraena explained, and Jace nodded, but she could still see the reservation in her brother’s copper eyes. 

“I just,” he trailed off. “Just what?” Eraena asked. “I just wished you could have worn a dress that had more to cover,” He said, making the princess narrow her eyes, “Mother wore dresses like these when she was my age; some of my dresses were hers,” She said. “Yes, but our uncles are there,” he tried to defend. “So?” Eraena asked incredulously. Jacaerys sighed and ran a hand through his face. “Never mind, you look lovely, sister. Let’s go,” he gave up, and Eraena conceded in the meantime, knowing their family was waiting for the both of them. 

When they entered the room, they hurriedly made their way to stand behind their mother. “Who won this time?” Their Father asked, “I did,” Eraena said with a triumphant smirk, and Jacaerys shook his head. The smirk on the princess’ lips was soon wiped when she noticed three eyes on her. “Your uncles are looking at you,” Rhaena said lowly. “I know,” Eraena replied but still did not turn to the two. “I feel underdressed standing next to you,” Baela said, and Eraena rolled her eyes as she heard Jacaerys snort. “I told you,” he said with a prideful tone. “Hush,” She grumbled and looked down at her dress with a frown. She was not overdressed; she thought she wore an appropriate outfit for such an occasion. She would not let her brother sway her mind when it came to her fashion choices. 

The girl’s attention was caught when she heard the door of the throne room open whilst her Mother spoke on behalf of her younger brother. “King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The king took a while to sit on his throne, aching and wheezing with each step. 

“I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess Rhaenys.” All eyes turned to the Queen who never was. “Indeed, Your Grace. It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.” The look of pure shock and outrage could be seen in the face of Vaemond. Eraena turned to the Queen and her father, the hand who had a look of surpassed irritation. Once more, she caught Aemond’s eye and once again, the princess quickly looked away. 

“As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luc, to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” Eraena turned to gaze at the floor and smiled at her sibling's proposals, but mainly her lack thereof. Rhaenyra had promised her that they would not arrange a marriage for her, that she was free to choose for herself. 

“Well... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” The king announced. Eraena let out a breath of relief. However, that relief was short-lived as Vaemond spoke once more. 

“You break the law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” Vaemond gritted out.

“Allow it"? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond. The king said. “That is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine. You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this…” Vaemond stopped himself; Eraena was chewing on her lip, knowing that this would not end well. 

“Say it,” she heard her Father challenge. Her children... are bastards!” Vaemond yelled, and the hall emitted silent chatter. Eraena took in a deep breath but did not let herself waver, holding her pretty head high. “She… is... a whοre!” Vaemond yelled another treasonous phrase once more, and the young princess’ dark eyes widened, not believing that he would scream that out loud and in front of the king, no less. 

“I... will have your tongue for that.” The king said and took out his dagger. Before anyone could blink, Daemon had sliced his sword through Vaemond’s head. The sound of blood gushing out and the thud of a body echoed through the room. Eraena could not help but gasp and turn to her brother, who quickly held her head to face away from the grotesque scene. “There, he can keep his tongue,” Daemon said. The king groaned and fell onto the throne, creating commotion throughout the room. “Return to your chambers, now.” Their Mother urged, and Eraena was happy to oblige. 

“Gods, I— Wha— gods,” she could not even comprehend what had happened. The five of them were in Eraena’s chambers. All of them were seated, whether it was atop her feathered bed, a sofa, or a settee near the fire, but the girl was pacing and trying to erase the image of Vaemond’s severed head upon the bloodied floor. 

“I forgot how violent father was,” Baela said, and Rhaena nodded. “He had mellowed down these past few years, though it is nice to see that the fire in him did not die down.” Eraena looked at her sister strangely, “What?” Rhaena asked. “He just killed a man, grandsire’s brother.” She breathed out, “He was coming for Luc’s inheritance. He called us bastards, our Mother a whore.” Jacaerys said. “Still! He did not deserve to die in such a way,” She said in remorse. “He had it coming,” Jacaerys shrugged, and Eraena shook her head. “Gods, please tell me you will be more levelheaded when you are king.” She said and took a seat next to Rhaena on the settee. 

“You hold too much empathy, sister. Believe me, if the roles were reversed, Vaemond would have cackled to see Daemon’s head roll on the floor.” Eraena huffed and kept her thoughts to herself for the moment. 

The day progressed and Eraena was left alone in her room, her sibling attending to other business in regard to their newly formed betrothals. Eraena walked to the dining hall alone, and when the doors opened, almost everyone was present. “Ah, there you are!” Her Father said and stood up to greet her. Eraena kissed his cheek as well as her Mother’s before she was escorted to her seat in between Jace and Aegon. 

The king was carried into the room and was seated at the head of the table, she noted the look of surprise her brothers tried to hide upon seeing the state grandsire in up-close. “How good it is to see you all tonight… together.” The king panted and looked over the table. “Prayer before we begin?” The queen asked her husband, who nodded. As the queen began her prayer, plenty of pairs of eyes wandered around the table. Eyeing each other curiously. Eraena noted, Aemond, however, he kept his eye closed and hands folded in front of him. 

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luc will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena. Further strengthening the bond between our houses.” The king announced. Eyes went to the newly betrothed couples. Rhaena and Luc shared a look, both of them having a smile on their faces, as well as Jacaerys and Baela had smiles on their faces. “And what of you, sweet niece? No betrothals as of yet?” He asked and took a sip of his wine. “None, uncle,” Eraena said plainly. Aegon hummed and turned his attention to her brother. 

“You do know how the act is done, I assume?” Aegon asked Jacaerys. “At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that,” From the side of her eye, she could see Jace’s nostrils falling and his jaw tightening. “You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my sister and my betrothed.” Jace had said. Aegon let out a breath and turned to Eraena with a pompous smirk on his face. “He’s a virgin, I’m quite sure of it,” he whispered the words that were only for her to hear. She gave no reaction and instead turned her head to look at her parents. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.” The king said, “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” Eraena set her cup down, and Aemond tapped his finger on the table. The king took off his gold mask, revealing half of his face had decayed and, like his son, an eye was missing from him. 

“My own face is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king…” Viserys trailed off. “But your father.” He said and turned to his children, “Your brother,” he turned to Daemon. “Your husband,” he said to the queen. “And your grandsire.” He finished turning to the five cousins. “Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.” Eraena could not help as her gaze fluttered over to Aemond. A steely look in his eye was focused upon his clasped hands.

Toasts from each side of the family brought me a sense of an alluring, yet unnatural sense of peace. Maybe this family could work. Eraena thought to herself, a fantasy that was beginning until she saw Aegon standing up and making his way to a chalice near Baela. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.” Eraena bit her lip, praying to the gods her brother would not be baited so easily; alas, she was not heard. 

Jacaerys slammed his fist on the table. Plates and silverware cluttered with noise. Aegon found his way back to his seat and leaned closer to the princess, the two of them waiting for Jacaerys’ outburst. Eraena shot a disgusted look toward her elder uncle, who only shrugged, “It was getting dreadfully boring and sappy, dear Eraena; you could not blame me.” he said. “I think I could,” she whispered harshly. 

Aemond then rose, and Eraena looked between the two princes, who stared each other down. “Prepare for it to grow interesting, sweet niece,” Aegon smirked. A tense silence filled the table, the two boys still standing. Jace reached over and playfully punched their uncle’s arm, lips pursed together. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.” Jacaerys said. Eraena tried not to roll her eyes at the obvious lie. 

“And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” Jace raised his glass, a smile on his face that she knew all too well to be teasing and insincere. Her gaze turned to Aegon, who seemed to be unamused by Jace’s speech. “To you as well,” Aegon said. I caught the eyes of Luc and Rhaena, who smiled at her with amusement. “I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly, he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.” 

Eraena let out a bubbling laugh along with her Father, who chuckled, and her mother quickly chastised the both of them. She quickly covered her mouth when she noticed the stoic look on the other’s faces. “Good,” Otto said to her granddaughter with a smile. Ever since childhood, Eraena thought hard about the words Helaena would mumble. Words that everyone thought were ludicrous and mad, she found with deeper meaning. Helaena is seen to be mad, though Eraena always sees it as misunderstood; she holds wisdom and knowledge that no other at the table possesses. 

“Let us have some music,” the king instructed. Jace made his way to stand up once more and went to Helaena, inviting the girl to dance. Eraena smiled against my cup when she saw the surprised yet excited look on the silver princess’ face. Aegon looked disbelieved and shared a look with his brother. Eraena took Jacearys’ seat and sat next to her siblings. For a moment, their family was the picture of unity. Smiles and laughs were shared along the table. However, the king grew in pain and was carried out of the hall immediately. 

As the king left, a roasted pig arrived and was placed directly in front of Aemond. Eraena saw the smirk on Luc’s face, trying not to laugh out loud. “Lucerys,” she whispered harshly at her younger brother. Eraena’s heart quickened, and she quickly turned to Aemond, who had his jaw clenched. The one-eyed prince punched his fist on the table, standing up at the same time. It caught everyone’s attention. Even the music had stopped. Aemond raised his glass. His eye had never left Lucerys. “Final tribute,” he announced, and the girl bit her lip, knowing this would not end well. “To the health of my nephews and niece. Jace… Luc… Joffery and sweet Eraena.” The girl rested her gaze on Aemond, “Each of them comely, wise…” the prince trailed off, his gaze flickering to Eraena, who was pleading with her eyes. Yet, of course, she was ignored. “Strong,” he finished. 

Eraena let out a defeated breath. “Aemond,” the queen warned but was ignored by the prince. “Come. Let us drain our cups to these four…” Aegon raised his chalice. “Strongs,” Aemond finished. “I dare you to say that again.” Jacaerys challenged. “Why? ’twas only a compliment,” Aemond replied. “Do you not think yourself strong?” He added. Jacaerys threw a punch, and Lucerys made his way to his brother but was blocked by Aegon. Who grabbed the boy and bashed his head on the table near where Eraena was sitting. She stared wide-eyed and immediately slammed her foot down on Aegons for him to release her younger brother. “That is enough!” The queen yelled, but none seemed to hear her. Lucerys’ head was still pinned down, and Aegon was staring at Eraena with an amused smirk on his lips. 

“You’d have to try harder than that, Eraena,” He said, and the princess’ vision reddened; she quickly stood up and used her knee to maim his sex. Finally, he let Lucerys go, falling on the floor, clutching his cock in pain. “Good,” she heard Father say in her ancient tongue with a smirk, but her Mother looked at her in disbelief. Aemond effortlessly pushed Jacaerys to the floor, a smirk on his face. The prince’s eye was quick to find obsidian ones who had moved to the side of the room, a triumphant smirk on his lips. It took Baela and Rhaena to hold her down and not join in to help her brothers. Jace quickly stood up and charged forward, but a guard stopped him and Lucerys. 

The guard had let go of his hold on Jace, and it would seem that Jacaerys would have pounced on their uncle if it weren’t for Daemon, who had placed himself in the middle of the two. “Wait,” he said and raised a finger up, staring Jacaerys down until the prince moved backward and moved to where his siblings stood. “Go to your quarters.” Their Mother commanded. “All of you, go. Now.” She ordered. Eraena was the last of her siblings to leave; she could hear faint footsteps behind her and saw Aemond and her father walking behind the five of them. Baela and Raena’s chambers were the nearest to the dining hall. The two had left the awkward convoy in the halls quickly. “Jacaerys, Eraena, your Mother’s chambers, now.” 

The girl’s lip found home between her teeth as she walked to her mother’s chambers, her head hung low. How hypocritical was she? She had frowned upon her father’s violent actions toward Vaemond, yet she was all but ready to join in on the fight. Yet, in her defense, she could not just sit there and let Aegon hurt her younger brother; the prince had deserved his cock to be maimed. “I simply do not know what to do with you two anymore!” Rhaenyra exclaimed with a disappointed sigh. “Jacaerys, why must you be baited so quickly?” She asked. “She called us bastards, Mother!” “But you should not give them a defensive reaction; it only makes you look guilty.”

Eraena scoffed, making her Mother turn to her with a raised brow. “Mother, look at us,” she said, and Jacaerys made his way to stand beside her. “Do not get me started with you. Joining in the fights of boys!” She exclaimed and paced around, playing with her rings once more. “I was only defending my brother,” Eraena explained. “That is no place for you, Eraena!” The younger princess held back her tongue, not wanting to say anything out of turn or offense. She caught her Father’s eyes, pleading that he would come to their aid; he sighed and walked closer to their Mother. “It was a childish fight, Nyra, you should be at ease that your children know how to defend themselves.” 

“The Hightowers are at an outrage! They will use this spectacle as another reason to keep the crown!” She whispered harshly. “You two will apologize to your uncles, Eraena, you will apologize to Aegon, and you Jacearys will apologize to Aemond.” Eraena stared in shock. “I will do no such thing,” she said and stepped forward, “Eraena,” Jace warned. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I will not apologize for defending my brother from that… drunken creature and his violent brother! Nor should Jacearys apologize for defending our honor.” 

“It does not matter; we must take the high road,” Rhaenyra said decisively. “Tell me, Mother, when you were our age, and if you were put in our position, would you apologize?” Eraena questioned and for the first time in a while, she saw my mother without an answer. Rhaenyra turned to her husband, who had an amused smirk on his lips. “Answer the question, dear,” Rhaenyra sighed and paced. “You two, out. Jacaerys, escort your sister back to her chambers.” 

Jace and Eraena exited the chambers and walked silently back to the girl’s quarters. They were nearing the wing of her chambers when they saw a figure seemingly waiting for someone. “Ah, Lord and Lady Strong,” Aemond taunted once more with a smirk on his lips. Eraena’s hold on Jacaerys’ arm tightened. Jacaerys turned to his sister, who implored with her eyes for him to ignore the sulking figure in the halls. “How nice of you to escort your sister to her chambers,” Aemond said, and Eraena licked her lips, avoiding the prince’s gaze. “I should think it necessary, especially with the talk we hear of a promiscuous princess residing in Dragonstone.” Eraena stiffened at his words. Promiscuous? The word seemed like poison dripping from his lips. “We are not aware of such things, Prince Aemond. It is best not to listen to whispers of vipers,” Jacaerys said, and the two walked on. Eraena frowned at their uncle’s words. “Ignore him,” Jacaerys said as he saw the furrowed brows of his sister. “Good night, brother,” Eraena sighed and placed a kiss on her brother’s cheek before stepping into her room. She was not promiscuous, not at all!

[lovelaetter]

taking insp from licorice mv

monsterfucking, somnophilia, non-con to dub-con to consensual, stockholm syndrome

you the monster (any kind of but werewolf is good) and the aespa HQ have put a bounty mission on you, the girls agree to capture you together but then our silly ningning thinks she can handle you and she insist to go alone despite the other girls stop her but eventually they let her go anyways.

later that night she go on pursuit the mission and break in your house, she look around your house and see its looking too comfy for a monster and then she stumble with you, you in your human form and her have a lil fight in your house (ill take this as a foreplay like in the mv for lil fun) but suddenly you shove her and ran away from her- ningning confused why would you do that and follow you behind just as you on the floor in pain slowly transform and howling- wow ningning you can choose anyday to go but you go on the FULL MOON DAY?

she watch you transform into a werewolf in fear as she know she needs to go now but its was too late! the werewolf you dash to her and grab her back- ningning thoughts she gonna die but no you were the horny type of werewolf in full moon as you grab her tiny body and start tearing her heroine costume.

ningning uses all of her strength and power to blast on you but none work except you gettin more angrier, your tongue all over her body licking her neck then down to her cunt. ningning closed her eyes try to lean away but then she peaking a little trying to think whats next to do but the first thing hit her eyes is your huge cock her eyes widen and shock because yours definitely bigger than her dildo back the HQ. after awhile of your oral testing on her body you finally want to be inside her when she understand what you gon do next she immediately yell out loud and whining “ahhh!! no no no dont put it in my body thats too big i cant take it!” while trying her best to hit you get out of your grip but you’re too strong holding her waist down the couch as you enter her (at least you do it gently) then start to fucking her cunt, it was seriously hurt her wall a lot at first but by time it turn to pleasure and she slowly loves it, you sit on the couch as she warp her arms around your shoulders and bounces on your cock, climb down and on her knees taking your cock in her hands trying to stroke it with both of them, yours is too big for her mouth so she can only lick the skin and put the head in her mouth and stroke your base with two hands i swear this is the sloppiest bj ever with her spit all over your cock and the flopping noises while doing it, it going for the whole night even after the full moon end you two didn’t stop yet? even when nini already exhausted with your cum filled in her womb- you’re not tired and haven’t turn back to human yet so you just keep going grabbing her legs spread open and just fucking her and nini didn’t mind at all she let you it and pass out.

phone ringing, ningning pick it up and the other line voices scold her “ningning! where the hell have you been? it’s been 3 days! you haven’t come back to the HQ yet since that mission! are you okay???!” it was her teammate also big sis giselle. “oh unnie? hehe sorry i forgot to call you back to reporting mission but im fine unnie” she talks with a giddy tone while stirring the pot of soup she make this morning for her new “lover” and her for breakfast. “gosh nini we were worried the heck out… everyone in HQ were trying to connect with you the last three days but where the hell are you?”. “oh me! unnie dont worry im safe and happy~ im actually in that werewolf house unnie~ shes very nice i think its a misunderstanding to put bounty on her~ anyways im kinda busy now bye sis dont worry about me im fine i love you~ and say hello to the other aespa and say i love you to them too okie bye~”. ningning hang up as she put her phone aside and continue to cook breakfast as you come in the kitchen and grind behind her ass for next session in the kitchen (your cock in your human form is still big and double it in your monster form).

back to the HQ, giselle karina and winter relieve and glad ningning is still alive but they think its so unusual when ningning stay back at the monster house? they think maybe ningning got hypnotized or brainwashed so they agree to go to your house together to rescue nining…. but they didnt know the truth or should i say you gonna fuck them one by one and make then realize why ningning being such a silly heroine with you?

-N

another one of those situations i have not much to say because you everything-

love silly ning so much she’s so dear to me. i love to think of her not staying with you but instead going back to the HQ, refusing to talk about it and the girls are so worried but as the weeks go by she keeps sneaking out late at night, carrying food for you and other things, so excited to spent some good time by your place. really awkward when the girls pressure her into telling what the fuck is going on and she’s like “okay i’m fucking that werewolf girl we supposed to kill 😕 she nice i promise” WORSE when she brings you to meet them and she’s all smiles and you and the girls are tense as fuck because they don’t trust you and you don’t either.