#i had fought the urge to draw frames for it

[loafbud]

I call it doomsday rolling

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - The Lioness's Webs

Summary - In a calculated game of ambition and seduction, her deft navigation of her brother's manipulative schemes to charm Prince Jacaerys, the future heir, leads her entangled in a web of power, desire, and uncertain loyalties amidst the glittering backdrop of courtly intrigue.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister reader

Warnings - Violence (barely)

Word count - 2053

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Prince Jacaerys, the future heir to the Iron Throne," my brother pointed out, his grip on my arm uncomfortably tight. I winced, but he didn't release me until I forcefully pulled away, knowing a bruise would soon enough blossom beneath his fingers.

"What an incredible opportunity for him," I muttered under my breath, feeling his intense gaze drilling into me.

"Go, speak to him, charm him," he commanded, his voice cold and demanding. I suppressed a bitter laugh, knowing better than to provoke him further.

"What, the same way you tried to charm his mother at her brother's name day?" I retorted with thinly veiled sarcasm. His expression hardened into a mask of anger.

"You are a Lannister, a lioness. I trust you have enough wit to understand that becoming the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms will greatly benefit our house," he argued, his tone brooking no opposition.

"So you're willing to use your younger sister as a pawn for power?" I asked incredulously.

He smiled tightly, a chilling sight. "Precisely."

"Think of the freedom, the wealth, the power you will wield," he continued, his voice now dripping with manipulation. "Imagine the influence you will have, the decisions you can shape."

I took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest at his callous disregard for my feelings. Instead, I focused on the potential benefits this alliance could bring, freedom from my brother's suffocating control and a position where I could assert my own influence.

"Fine, I will do what needs to be done, for the future of our house, of course," I forced out through gritted teeth. 

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "Remember what happened the last time you disappointed me. Don't make me remind you again." 

The threat was clear, a shadow that hung over me, compelling me to move forward even as every instinct screamed at me to run.

His smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as his hands landed heavily on my shoulders. I fought the urge to flinch at his touch, steeling myself against the weight of his expectations.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I smoothed the folds of my black and gold dress, a strategic choice, black to honour House Targaryen, with touches of gold to pay homage to my own lineage.

The neckline plunged in a daring V, the fabric draping elegantly off my shoulders, revealing the delicate curve of my collarbones. The dress was tailored to perfection, hugging every contour of my body, accentuating each curve.

Every detail was calculated, designed to catch his eye and draw him in.

As I stepped into the grand hall, the room seemed to pause. Conversations faltered, and eyes turned toward me, drawn by the magnetic pull of my presence. I could feel the weight of their gazes, curious, admiring, envious but I had eyes for only one person.

Prince Jacaerys stood near a towering column, his tall frame partly obscured. His eyes, dark and contemplative, met mine with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Fidgeting with his wine goblet, he betrayed a shy demeanour in the way he shifted from foot to foot.

With deliberate grace, I manoeuvred through the crowd, acknowledging nobles who sought my attention with polite nods and smiles, yet never pausing long enough to engage deeply. 

Each step I took was a calculated move in the dance of seduction.

From the corner of my eye, I caught my brother's disapproving glare. His impatience and warning were palpable, urging me to expedite our plan. I simply disregarded his silent commands, understanding that our strategy hinged on subtlety and timing.

Just as I was about to reach the prince, a nobleman stepped into my path. Ser Alistair Blackwood, known throughout the realm for his charm and roguish ways, bowed low and extended his hand with a flourish.

"Lady Lannister, may I have the honour of a dance?" His voice dripped with insincere charm, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Suppressing my irritation, I smoothed a polite smile onto my lips. "Of course, Ser Alistair," I replied gracefully, taking his hand as the music swelled around us.

As we began to dance, I could feel Prince Jacaerys's eyes on us, his expression a mix of curiosity and discomfort. Perhaps this unexpected interruption could work in my favour.

Ser Alistair, emboldened by the attention, leaned in closer than propriety allowed.

"You are a vision tonight, my lady," he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. "Surely you must have countless suitors vying for your favour."

I chuckled softly, though my mind raced with annoyance. 

"Your words are kind, Ser Alistair," I replied diplomatically, subtly trying to maintain a respectable distance. "But I am here for more than mere flattery."

As the dance continued, Ser Alistair's hand on my waist tightened possessively, his intentions becoming increasingly clear. I stole a quick glance toward the Prince, silently pleading for him to intervene. 

The flicker of jealousy in his dark eyes was unmistakable, and a spark of hope ignited within me.

To my relief, he stepped forward, his usually shy demeanour overridden by a surge of determination. 

"May I cut in?" His voice, though firm, carried a polite gentleness.

Ser Alistair, momentarily taken aback by the prince's assertiveness, hesitated before gracefully conceding. "Of course, my prince," he replied, releasing me with a reluctant bow and stepping aside.

I placed my hand in Jacaerys's outstretched palm, feeling a flutter of anticipation as he led me into the next dance. His grip was gentle yet sure, his posture revealing a mix of nerves and resolve.

The dance floor, once merely a stage for courtly performances, now felt like the arena where fates intertwined and decisions were made.

"You look beautiful tonight, my lady," Jacaerys murmured, his voice soft but sincere as we began to move in rhythm.

"Thank you, my Prince," I replied warmly, letting my fingers linger against his for a moment longer than necessary, subtly conveying my appreciation.

As we danced, I maintained steady eye contact, my gaze inviting and warm. I could see him struggling to find his footing, both literally and figuratively. His shyness, far from being a hindrance, added an endearing charm to his demeanour, making him appear more genuine.

"Would you like to step outside for some fresh air?" he suggested after a brief pause, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

"That sounds lovely," I agreed, as I allowed him to lead me through the ornate corridors to a secluded part of the garden. 

As we stepped into the garden, the air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, a sweet yet almost suffocating fragrance that clung to my senses. The night air greeted us with a cool embrace, a welcome contrast to the warmth and clamour of the crowded hall.

"May I fetch you a drink?" he offered, ever the gentleman, his eyes lingering on my face.

"Please," I replied, my voice soft yet composed, giving him a warm smile. 

As he walked away to fulfil my request, I stole a quick glance back at my brother. His eyes gleamed with approval, a smug smile playing on his lips. I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the pivotal moments to come.

When the prince returned with two goblets of wine, I accepted mine with a grateful nod. "Thank you, my prince," I said, my fingers brushing against his as I took the goblet.

"You're welcome," he replied, his blush deepening at our fleeting touch.

We stood amidst the tranquillity of the moonlit garden, shielded from the clamour of the celebration inside.

"It's so peaceful out here," I remarked, lifting the goblet to my lips for a sip of the wine.

"Yes, a welcome respite from all the noise," he agreed softly, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

Finding a stone bench bathed in the romantic glow of lantern light, we settled down side by side. I positioned myself close enough that our knees brushed lightly, a deliberate move to strengthen the burgeoning connection between us.

As our conversation flowed in the secluded serenity of the moonlit garden, I subtly orchestrated a moment of vulnerability. I noticed a small trinket dangling from my wrist. A delicate bracelet adorned with intricate silver filigree. 

With a subtle flick of my wrist, I let it slip from my fingers, the soft chime of metal meeting stone barely audible in the quiet night air.

"Oh!" I exclaimed softly, feigning surprise as the bracelet tumbled to the ground beside his feet.

Prince Jacaerys, ever the gentleman, reacted swiftly. "Allow me," he said with gentle concern, kneeling beside me to pick up the bracelet. His fingers brushed mine as he handed it back.

"Thank you, my prince," I murmured, meeting his gaze with a grateful smile. Our eyes locked for a lingering moment, the air between us charged with unspoken understanding.

"You're welcome," he replied warmly, his own smile mirroring mine as we sat in a comfortable silence.

"I've always admired your dedication to your house," I began in a hushed tone, allowing sincerity to colour my words. "It's a rare quality, especially in someone as young as you."

His gaze dropped modestly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Thank you," he replied humbly. "I do my best for my family and the realm."

"And it shows," I continued, letting my hand rest lightly on his knee, a gesture both comforting and intimate. "You possess a strength and nobility that may not always be apparent to others, but I see it clearly."

His eyes met mine, reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "Do you really think so?" His voice was barely above a whisper, betraying his uncertainty.

"Absolutely," I affirmed with conviction, leaning in slightly closer. "That's why I believe you will make a great king one day. The realm needs someone with your vision and heart."

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, each word carrying a weight of intention as we navigated the dance of courtship and intrigue. Subtle touches and lingering glances punctuated our dialogue, drawing him further into the web I carefully spun.

"You're very kind," he murmured, his voice a soft admission of admiration. "And I must admit, you're also quite captivating."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied, allowing my hand to rest gently on his arm. "Because I've found myself quite taken with you as well, my prince."

His blush deepened, but he didn't shy away. Instead, he leaned closer, his eyes earnestly searching mine. 

"You have a way of making me feel at ease, my lady," he confessed. "Like I can truly be myself with you."

"And you can," I assured him, my voice tender with sincerity. "I'm here to support you in any way I can."

He exhaled softly, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed my words. "I appreciate that more than you know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you like to take a walk with me? I feel there's so much more I want to share with you."

"I'd love to," I replied warmly, a genuine smile lighting up my face. 

Rising gracefully, he offered his arm, which I accepted with a soft smile. Together, we ventured away from the bustling hall, choosing instead the quietude of moonlit paths in the garden.

As we walked, our conversation continued in hushed tones, weaving dreams and aspirations into the tapestry of the night. Prince Jacaerys spoke of his ambitions for the realm, his hopes for peace and prosperity. 

I listened attentively, offering encouragement and insights where I could, my presence a steady support.

"You have a way of making everything seem possible," he remarked, his voice tinged with admiration as we paused by a tranquil fountain.

"That's because it is," I replied softly, squeezing his arm gently. "With the right people by your side, there's nothing you can't achieve."

He turned to me then, his eyes reflecting gratitude and a growing fondness. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he confessed quietly.

"And I'm glad you are too," I replied sincerely, my voice soft with affection. "I believe we can accomplish great things together."

As we continued our stroll, the bond between us solidified with each step. I knew I had captivated him. The night had been a success, a carefully orchestrated dance of strategy and emotion. 

As we eventually parted ways, a promise hung in the air. A promise of alliances formed, of futures entwined, and of a destiny waiting to unfold.

A/n -  I need to start picking a different piece of jewllery to drop x

[kckt88]

Closer

Summary:

Lucaela is a strong bastard-the twin sister of the boy who maimed him with a blade, but she's also the sweetest Omega he's ever scented, and Aemond soon finds himself unable to fight against the primal urge of the Alpha inside him, who has chosen his neice as the perfect mate.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Masturbation, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V, Knotting, Mating Bites.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4569

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond strode across the training grounds of the Red Keep, his sword in hand, the sound of steel slicing through the air as he practiced his swordsmanship. His movements were fluid, each strike precise and powerful, a testament to years of training and discipline.

As he paused for a moment to catch his breath, a sweet fragrance wafted on the breeze, the scent of ripe peaches teasing his senses. Aemond's nostrils flared as he instinctively turned his head, searching for the source of the delightful aroma.

And there she was, emerging from the shadows like a vision—Lucaela, his niece a recently presented Omega. Her presence stirring the Alpha within. She was the twin sister of Lucerys, the boy who had took his eye when they were children. Aemond harboured a deep-seated hatred for Lucerys, but he couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Lucaela.

"Lucaela," greeted Aemond, his voice low and tinged with a hint of something he dared not name.

“Uncle” replied Lucaela.

A wave of desire swept over Aemond like a tempest, igniting a fire within his soul that threatened to consume him whole.

Lucaela was the epitome of beauty, her long, dark wavy hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk, framing her delicate features with an ethereal glow.

Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light purple, she was the only one out of her strong siblings that had inherited the Targaryen eyes.

And then there was her peach scent that enveloped him like a cloak, sending his senses reeling with its intoxicating allure. It was a scent he could never forget, a scent that awakened the Alpha within him, urging him to claim the omega as his own.

With every breath he took, Aemond could feel the pull of Lucaela's scent drawing him closer, igniting a hunger deep within him that refused to be ignored. The Alpha inside him roared with a primal need, demanding dominance, craving possession.

“What brings you to the training grounds?” asked Aemond, the point of his sword digging into the ground as he rested his weight upon it.

“I found myself drawn to this part of the castle-I was watching you train” replied Lucaela.

“-And did you like what you saw?” rasped Aemond smirking.

“Your skill with the sword is impressive-you’ll win many tourneys”.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys-nephews have you come to train?” quipped Aemond as Jace and Luke came to a stop beside Lucaela who scowled.

“Open the gates-“

Aemond smiled at Vaemond Velaryon made his way inside the Red Keep, flanked by a retinue of guards.

Alone in the dimly lit chambers, Aemond sat upon a plush chair, his mind consumed by thoughts of Lucaela.

The sweet scent of peaches still clung to the air, haunting him with its intoxicating allure. Aemond's fingers clenched tightly around the armrests of his chair as he fought against the primal urges stirring within him.

The petition for Vaemond to seize control of Driftmark had failed, his sickly father had miraculously roused himself from his stupor and came to the aid of Rhaenyra-his favourite child.

Viserys had steadfastly upheld the bastard strong boys claim to Driftmark and Vaemond had lost his head for it.

Now he would have to endure spending more time in the presence of Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards, his presence would be expected at dinner, and he would have to be in the same room as Lucaela.

Never in his life had he been this tempted by the scent of an Omega, just thinking about her was enough to make his cock hard. He’d already fucked his fist three times since their encounter in the training yard and it had done nothing to satisfy his desire.

Aemond closed his eye, trying in vain to banish her from his thoughts, but her image remained etched into the depths of his mind. The soft curve of her lips, the warmth of her gaze—each detail a tantalizing temptation that threatened to unravel his self-control.

For an Alpha, the scent of an Omega, especially a newly presented one, is like a siren's song, weaving its way through the air and captivating their senses with its intoxicating sweetness. It ignites a fire within them, awakening desires that they struggle to contain.

The Alpha within him surged with a primal longing, a desire as ancient as time itself. It whispered to him in the depths of his soul, urging him to claim Lucaela as his own, to make her his mate, and to sire pups with her.

In the quiet solitude of his chambers, Aemond wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between the responsibilities of his station and the yearnings of his heart. His Alpha instincts raged, demanding dominance and possession, driving him to seek out Lucaela and bind her to him in an unbreakable bond.

He imagined her taking his knot, his fangs sinking into her neck, forever claiming her as his. He pictured her belly swollen with his pups. The Alpha within him growling with satisfaction, his cock hard again.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond as his hands moved to untie his breeches once more.

Not even a day she had been back in the Red Keep and already he’d been reduced to hiding in his chambers fucking his own fist.

He briefly considered finding another Omega or perhaps a Beta female, perhaps if he could find one that looked similar to-

NO-the Alpha inside him would not accept a substitute, it had to be Lucaela.

His cock as hard as steel, already leaking precum and he began to move his hand up and down.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond his hips moving back and forth.

His mind a wash with vivid images of Lucaela, under him, on top of him, of him behind her, fucking his knot into her sweet wet warm cunny.

Gods he felt like he was in rut, his hips and fist moving faster, he was close-so close.

The scent of peaches-fuck he wondered if she tasted like a ripe peach, one of his favourite fruits.

Soft-sweet, perfect for sinking his teeth into.

“Lucaela-my Lucy-MINE” roared Aemond as he erupted, his seed spilling all over his fist and lower abdomen.

Aemond collapsed against the back of the chair, his heart pounding in his chest, the knot at the base of his cock throbbed continuously.

Then a soft knock at the door, broke Aemond out his reverie.

“Dinner is ready Prince Aemond-your presence is expected”.

“I’ll be there in a moment” replied Aemond, tucking his cock back in his breeches and reaching for a cloth.

God this dinner was going to be hell. But he must endure. He must do his duty. He supposed he could always hold his breath, that way he would smell the Omega’s scent, but that would also lead to his untimely death, and he couldn’t hold his breath all night.

His cock stirred once again at the thought of Lucaela and Aemond shook his head in disbelief.

“Fuck sake-not again” snapped Aemond as he ran a hand over his face.

No-he couldn’t indulge himself, otherwise he’d be late. So, with a deep breath he left his chambers and made his way to the dining room.

Praying to every fucking one of the seven that he could restrain himself.

The scent of roasted meats and spiced wines filled the air, mingling with the chatter and laughter of his relatives, yet beneath the facade of familial camaraderie, Aemond's inner turmoil raged like a storm.

Seated alongside his kin, Aemond struggled to maintain his composure, his fingers tightening around the stem of his goblet as he forced himself to focus on the conversation swirling around him. But try as he might to distract himself, his thoughts kept returning to Lucaela.

The Alpha within him clawed desperately at the confines of his self-control, yearning to claim her as his own, to dominate and possess her in a primal display of dominance. It whispered seductive promises of fulfilment and satisfaction, urging him to seize what he desired most.

But Aemond knew he couldn't succumb to those urges, not here, not now, surrounded by his family so, Aemond gritted his teeth against the tumult of his inner turmoil, his facade of stoicism masking the turmoil raging within. He cast furtive glances across the table, his gaze lingering on Lucaela, who sat beside her brother Lucerys, her expression a mask of serene composure.

Each glance only served to fuel the fire burning within him, the Alpha's hunger growing more insatiable with each passing moment. He longed to reach out and claim Lucaela, to mark her as his own and brand her with his scent—a symbol of their bond forged in the crucible of desire.

Not even his father’s desperate rambling were enough to distract him, not even the toasts, or even his sister Helaena dancing with Jace.

She was Aegon’s wife, but obviously the drunk cunt could only sit and stare as the bastard strong boy twirled her around in time with the music.

After his father had been escorted from the dining room, Aemond prayed for the night to come to a close, he had to get back to his chambers, his cock was throbbing with need, and he was sure the scent of his arousal was becoming more and more obvious by the second, due to the looks that Lucaela was giving him and the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

Then the roasted pig was placed in front on him, and that bastard boy had the audacity to laugh at him.

His fist colliding loudly with the table, and he rose to his feet thanking the gods that his leather jerkin was long enough to hide the bulge in his breeches.

“Final tribute” said Aemond picking up his goblet “To the health of my niece and nephews-Lucaela, Jace and Luke-each of them handsome, wise and strong-“

“Aemond” warned Alicent.

“Come-let us drain our cups to these three strong-“

“-I dare you to say that again” challenged Jace.

“Why, it was only a compliment. Don’t you think yourself strong?” challenged Aemond, as Jace’s fist collided with the side of his face.

The dining room erupted into a cacophony of noise, Lucerys who had rose to defend his brother Jace had been slammed headfirst into the table, Lucaela had then slid her hands into Aegon’s silver hair and wrenched him away from her twin brother-and Jace had been shoved to the floor.

Aemond’s blood was growing hot as he watched Lucaela defending her brother, he didn’t give two shits about Luke, but it was the way in which the Omega had fiercely risen from her seat and thrown herself into the chaos.

The hard slap she delivered to Aegon’s pale cheek had the Alpha inside Aemond growling with delight.

But Jace had hauled himself of the floor and was charging towards Aemond, who braced himself ready to fight.

“Wait-wait-“ snarled Daemon, stepping in between the two.

“Go to your chambers-all of you go now” ordered Rhaenyra.

Aemond watched as Lucaela bowed her head to her mother and followed her brothers from the dining room.

As he watched her leave Aemond suddenly became very aware that Daemon was watching him with intrigue, following his gaze.

The older Alpha raised his non-existent eyebrows at Aemond who decided it was for the best to stand down, challenging Daemon wouldn’t do him any favours, not with Lucaela anyway.

So, he left the dining room, not bothering to deal with the aftermath of his actions as there was something else that demanded his attention.

Aemond’s footsteps echoed softly as he made his way through the corridors of the Red Keep, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows along the stone walls, casting an eerie glow upon his determined features.

He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't succumb to the forbidden desires that tugged at his soul like a riptide dragging him under. But the scent of Lucaela lingered in his senses, a sweet intoxicating fragrance that called to him with an irresistible allure, driving him ever closer to her chambers.

As he reached the door to Lucaela's quarters, Aemond hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. His mind raced with a thousand reasons why he should turn back, why he should resist the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

But then he caught another whiff of her scent, carried on the breeze like a whispered promise, and all rational thought fled from his mind. With a shaky breath, he rapped his knuckles against the door, the sound echoing through the silent corridor.

The door creaked open, revealing Lucaela standing on the threshold, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him.

Aemond's gaze locked with hers, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the words to express the tempest of emotions raging within him. But before he could speak, the scent of Lucaela enveloped him like a tidal wave, washing away his doubts and fears in a flood of primal need.

“What do you want?” asked Lucaela.

“You know what I want-“ replied Aemond as he stepped inside the dimly lit chamber.

“No, I don’t-“

“-Sure, you do” said Aemond.

“You can’t want me-“ muttered Lucaela, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why not?” snarked Aemond.

“I thought I was a bastard-you said it yourself. Handsome, wise and strong”

“When it comes to you I was wrong, I should have said pretty and perfect for birthing my pups” growled Aemond as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, beckoning him closer with each passing second.

And then, without a word, he crushed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

His Alpha roaring with delight, at the sweet taste of the Omega.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucaela gasped for breath, her eyes meeting Aemond's with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "We mustn't," she breathed, her voice trembling with restraint. "We should court properly, earn the blessing of the King and our family.”

Aemond's brows furrowed, a shadow passing over his features as he shook his head in disbelief. "You know as well as I do, Lucy," he murmured, his voice tinged with bitterness. "My mother and grandsire would never allow such a match to take place. They would sooner see us wed to strangers for political gain than grant their blessing to our union."

“Aemond” whimpered Lucaela as he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"You can feel it, can't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "The pull of my Alpha scent”

Lucaela's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart pounding with a mixture of longing and apprehension. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the remnants of her resolve, but the undeniable truth hung heavy in the air between them.

"I-I shouldn't," she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she fought to resist the primal urges that threatened to consume her. "We mustn't give in to temptation, Aemond. We must honour our duty and our family."

But even as she spoke the words, Lucaela could feel the last vestiges of her resistance crumbling beneath the weight of Aemond's presence, his Alpha scent wrapping around her like a velvet cloak, suffusing her senses with a heady intoxication that left her dizzy with desire.

Aemond's lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You cannot deny the pull any longer, Issa dōna," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "Our desires are too strong, too primal to be ignored” (My sweet).

With a soft gasp, Lucaela closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Aemond's in a searing kiss that left them both breathless and wanting more.

Lucaela had lost most of her senses the moment Aemond had pressed her onto the bed and knelt down between her open legs.

“Issa dōna Omega” whispered Aemond (My sweet Omega).

Lucaela’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Lucaela bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Ivestragī issa rȳbagon ao issa dōna” growled Aemond (Let me hear you my sweet).

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucaela.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Lucaela, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Lucaela arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Lucaela’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucaela blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little strong girl” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Lucaela.

“Relax and let Alpha take care of you”.

Almost as if he could read Lucaela’s mind, Aemond smiled and began peppering gentle kisses all over Lucaela’s face.

“You can take it. Ao istan vēttan syt issa” whispered Aemond as he began rubbing his hard cock along Lucaela’s wet folds (You were made for me).

Suddenly Aemond rolls his hips forward and the entire hard length of him is buried inside Lucaela.

“A-Aemond” shrieks Lucaela at the sting of her maidenhead being taken.

Aemond stills for a moment, almost as if he is savouring the feeling of Lucaela’s tight wet heat being wrapped around him.

After a few mintues, Lucaela begins to writh against him.

“M-Move please Alpha. I need you” begged Lucaela desperately.

Aemond rolls his hips gently at first, allowing Lucaela the time to adjust to the feeling of his cock moving back and forth inside her, but when his sweet Omega begins issuing pleas of ‘Harder and faster’ Aemond loses it and begins fucking Lucaela into the mattress.

Their hips pound together as Aemond thrusts hard and fast, his movements brutal and precise.

“Lucaela. My Omega” moans Aemond as his cock begins to thicken at the base.

“Yes. Yes. Oh, it’s feels so good. Alpha don’t stop. Fuck me harder. I can take it”

“Going to fill you up with my seed. I want to see you swollen with my pups” hisses Aemond.

“Yes. Alpha breed me. I want to grow round with your pup. I will give you as many pups as you desire” exclaimed Lucaela.

“Y-Your neck. I need too-Claim you” growls Aemond.

“Yes, Alpha claim me. Make me yours” begs Lucaela.

With a low growl of desire, Aemond tilts Lucaela's head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his hungry gaze.

His cock throbbing with anticipation,

Lucaela's breath hitched as she felt the heat of Aemond's lips brush against her skin, his touch igniting her blood. Then, she felt the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her flesh, a mixture of pleasure and pain flooding her senses.

Aemond's Alpha scent enveloped her, swirling around her like a whirlwind, as Lucaela surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. With a gasp of ecstasy, she arched against him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt their bond solidifying, the mating bond that would bind them together for eternity.

But even as Aemond claimed her as his own, Lucaela's own Omega instincts surged to life, driving her to reciprocate the gesture. With a fierce determination, she bit down on Aemond's neck.

Whilst her teeth are not as sharp as Aemonds, they still manage to puncture his mating gland. Sealing Alpha and Omega together forever. Their bond snapping into place. Their hearts as one.

The blood from their bites running down their bodies, as they moved together. Her Alpha fucked her hard and fast, his hips pounding against hers. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the chambers.

As Aemond gives one last thrust and forces his knot inside Lucaela, spilling rope after rope of his seed inside his Omega, which made Lucaela throw her own head back and scream, as she reached her peak, clenching around her Alpha’s pulsating cock.

It didn’t stop there, Aemond only needed a few moments of rest before growing hard inside of his Omega again.

As Lucaela’s legs relaxed and let go of her hold on Aemond, his knot had deflated enough to allow him to move backwards, and he raised himself to his knees between Lucaela’s legs.

The loss of her Alpha inside her made Lucaela whimper as the ache quickly returned. 

“Roll over” ordered Aemond. It was a command, an Alpha command, and Lucaela whimpered as she felt it take control of her body, she had to obey, she had to please her Alpha.

She was now on all fours in front of him, ready to be mounted again. Her waves of scent and slick made Aemond almost stagger. He pushed his cock into the whimpering Omega once more with shaky hands and proceeded to pound her even harder and quicker than before, snapping his hips against her while grunting loudly, driving needy moans out of Lucaela. 

Aemond was gripping her hips so hard that his nails were digging into her skin, leaving marks everywhere, the pain drove Lucaela wild with need and she needed to feel more of it.

Almost as if he could sense what she needed, Aemond reached forward and grabbed Lucaela’s hair, making her head shoot back. Lucaela cried out to her Alpha in pleasure, making Aemond growl.

His knot started to slowly push inside Lucaela, and she let out a feral cry as the knot made its way deeper and deeper inside of her.

It swelled up so much, it hurt, it hurt so good.

“A-Aemond-yes-yes-please” babbled Lucaela as she peaked, her slick dripping onto the sheets.

“I will have you dripping with my seed my sweet Omega. I can’t wait to see you swell with my pups, everyone will know your mine-“ moaned Aemond.

Aemond thrust one, two, three more times before growling once again, shooting his seed deep inside Lucaela, filling her up. He grunted out Lucaela’s name chasing the pleasure of his own peak. He then let out a deep, satisfied breath before collapsing onto his Omega.

Aemond moved his face to Lucaela’s neck again, and lovingly nuzzled her.

Lucaela laid trembling underneath him, his knot had swelled and locked together,

“ñuhon” muttered Aemond (Mine).

In the depths of the night, shrouded in shadows cast by flickering torchlight, Lucaela made her way down to the skull of Balerion, the ancient relic looming over her like a silent sentinel of the past. She paused before the massive skull, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

As she waited, Lucaela reached up to the fresh mating mark on her neck and grimaced at the dried blood lingering on her skin.

At the sound of footsteps, Lucaela took a deep breath and turned to face Daemon.

"Is it done?"

Lucaela nodded, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her. "Yes," she replied, her words echoing softly in the cavernous chamber. "Aemond has claimed me as his mate. His seed has filled my womb."

A slow smile spread across Daemon's lips, a flicker of satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "Well done," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the darkness.

“Thank you-father” whispered Lucaela.

"You must lay with him as many times as you can to ensure that you carry Aemond's pup," he said, his tone firm and commanding. "No Alpha would ever turn away from their own child and with Aemond on our side, your mother's path to the Iron Throne is clearer than ever."

"I-I understand," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper as she met Daemon's gaze with a mixture of resignation and determination.

Daemon nodded; his expression unreadable as he regarded her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the chamber. "With his pup in your womb, our position will be secure”.

“What of those who conspire against mother?” asked Lucaela.

“Otto Hightower isn’t the only treasonous cunt involved, soon the others will reveal themselves and when they do-justice will served” replied Daemon his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister.

“Perzys se ānogar” said Lucaela (Fire and Blood).

Daemon's eyes softened as he looked upon Lucaela, a sense of pride swelling within him like a flame dancing in the darkness. Of Rhaenyra's three children from her first marriage, Lucaela was his favourite—the embodiment of everything he believed a Targaryen should be.

"You have done well" he said, his voice carrying the weight of his admiration. "But now, it is time for you to return to your mate and get some rest. Thanks to you, the war will be won before it even begins”

As Lucaela made her way back to her chambers, her mind drifted back to Daemon's plan.

Her presentation as an Omega had marked a turning point, her scent at its strongest—a heady concoction of sweetness and allure that had the power to captivate even the most stoic of unmated Alphas. It was a scent that could drive men to madness, igniting a primal hunger that could not be ignored.

Whispers had reached Dragonstone of Ottos plans to usurp the Iron Throne when Viserys passed and have Aegon crowned, and Daemon knew they had to play it smart at least for now and he had seen the potential of her power as an Omega and recognized the opportunity it presented.

Aemond and Vhagar were Otto’s biggest asset, and without them he was nothing.

So, Daemon had suggested that she deliberately place herself in front of Aemond, play coy and let her scent drive him wild with desire until he could resist her no longer.

Lucaela pushed open the door, the soft light of the moon casting a gentle glow across the room, illuminating the seed and blood-stained sheets that bore witness to their passionate union.

Aemond was still asleep, his features softened by the embrace of slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

As Lucaela slipped beneath the covers and nestled against Aemond's side, his arms instinctively wrapping around her and pulling her close, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over her like a wave crashing against the shore.

And as she lay there in the darkness, wrapped in Aemond's embrace, Lucaela couldn't help but wonder if perhaps being mated to him wouldn't be so bad after all.

The fervour in which he had taken her to bed had been unlike anything she had expected, growing up the septa’s had always told her of a woman’s duty, that she existed for a man’s pleasure and not her own.

But Aemond had shown her that there was much pleasure to be had, and she couldn’t wait to experience more.

[twisted-tales-of-all]

First and Last Dance

Summary: After dying, you refuse to follow your reaper into the afterlife before experiencing what sex feels like. Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader Genre: Smut, Horror, One-Shot Tropes: virgin!reader, grim reaper!AU, first and last time Word Count: 2.4K Contains: mild corruption kink, mentions of alcohol and drugs, discussion of dying in a fire, waking up disoriented, memory loss, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, love, baby girl, sir), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), marking, praise, multiple orgasms, fingering (f. receiving)

"Ugh," you groan as you wake up, gripping your head tight thanks to your hangover. "Fuck, did I really do that much last night?"

Looking around with squinting eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. The dark grey walls and black-out curtains certainly help your headache, but you can't remember how you got here or where here even is.

The creak of the door draws your attention. In walks a beautiful man with hair like raven feathers and an outfit matching the dark room. Quickly, your brain runs through an empty shelf of memories, trying to figure out whether you did something with this gorgeous man and forgot. Patting your body, you find all your clothes on your body, but not quite intact. Noticing holes in the fabric, you push down the covers to figure out the damage. Strangely, you find scorch marks all over your shirt - a burned hem cutting its original length, small holes with blackened edges from sparks flying onto the flammable fabric, even a full sleeve missing.

Before you can ask about the night prior, the stranger speaks, "You probably don't remember. That tends to happen." He pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting back and relaxing. As if running on a script, he rallies off information, "Last night, you were at a party. An accident happened, where someone dropped a lit cigarette into some spilled alcohol. Not very many people survived, as the alcohol fire spread quickly and most of the party goers were impaired by the various drugs and alcoholic drinks."

A fire? You remember everyone's screams shifting from excited to terrified, but can't remember the flames themselves. With that big of a disaster, you wouldn't have expected to forget, even under the influence.

"At least I made it out safe."

"You didn't, Y/N." The man reveals with a look of boredom on his face, "That's why I'm here. My name is Seonghwa, and I'm a reaper. It is my job to collect the newly deceased and lead you into the afterlife."

"No."

Finally showing emotion in his reaction, Seonghwa doesn't know what to say, frozen in shock. Nobody has outright denied him like this. They've fought, cried, cursed him, and even struck him, but nobody has had your composure to simply say no.

"I can't die yet. I haven't done so many things. I've barely even hugged people I found attractive. What about my first kiss, my first time? Or traveling with someone I love? I can't die when I haven't done any of that. Send me back."

There it is. A line Seonghwa's heard time and time again. But this time, it's framed differently. No first kiss? Seonghwa empathizes with you, as a reaper who often wonders of the joys of living. Reapers, of course, weren't granted that chance; forged by the gods of death with the sole purpose of easing their jobs, reapers often face a tedious, repetitive life. Most were okay with it, as that is all they ever knew, but everyone hears stories of those driven crazy after too many interactions with humans.

"I cannot send you back. You're already dead, and that's out of my powers. I simply lead you to the proper afterlife."

Your posture drops as he explains this. All you ever wanted was a sweet love story in your life, and now it won't happen. Despite this, your urge to at least try something still rages within you. So much so that you don't even try to stop yourself from asking Seonghwa a desperate question.

"Could you show me what love is like? Or at least let me feel what it's like to kiss and touch someone?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected request, Seonghwa forgets his words for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly. You look at him, anticipating his answer and hoping he'll give in.

"You want to kiss me? To touch me?"

"Why not? You have a pretty face, a nice voice, and probably a body sculpted by gods. Why wouldn't I? You seem nice, too."

Something in the naivety of your words pulls at him. Urges he didn't know he held surface as you pout at him, and he can't stop himself from wanting to show you everything he can before leading you to your final resting place. Here, in the confines of these smoke-colored walls where time stands still and everything lies in limbo, Seonghwa breaks his personal protocol to indulge in something dark bubbling inside him. Without saying another word, he pushes himself off the chair and kisses you. He moves so fast that you can't catch your breath before his lips are mingling roughly with yours. Your hands find their way to his chest while his snake behind you, one on your upper back and the other resting on your hip.

He brings you closer, tightening the gap. As you both pant out in breaks from the sloppy kiss, your body heats up. Although you're certain you can't be kissing very well based on how much more work he's doing, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. His luscious lips overtake yours with ease, you feel every movement amplified. The moment his cold hands slide under the remaining fabric covering you, it feels so enticing against your hot body, cooling your back down with a simple touch. Slowly, you find him guiding you to lie on the bed. He hovers above you, looking down on you as he appreciates the look on your face - a look begging for more but not knowing what that might entail; a mix of fear and longing.

Your innocence spurs him on more than he thought possible; even just seeing you looking at him and trying to steady your breathing drives him insane. His usually loose pants much more snug thanks to his erection, Seonghwa refuses to hold himself back. With a quick swipe of his hand, your shirt rips apart, revealing your bare stomach and beautifully adorned chest. With a deep growl and another swipe, your pants fall to the sides of your legs, leaving you lying under him in your matching bra and panty set.

"What a wonderful color on you." His hand lingers on your waist as he admires how well the color of your underwear suits your skin tone, "I almost don't want to rip it off of you. Almost."

Leaning in, Seonghwa leaves kisses all over your uncovered body, marking you in places he knows will feel best for you - under your ear, along your collarbone, on both hips, right above the covered portion of your chest. Although his kisses are soft, his marks turn aggressive as he sucks hard and even bites down on some spots.

Along with the rough marking, his hands make quick work of the little remaining fabric on your body. When his lips reach fabric, he quickly works to remove it. Unlike before, he takes care not to rip apart your undergarments, bringing a temporary sense of kindness to his actions. Unbeknownst to you, he's careful with them so he can hold onto them after you leave him - a souvenir of sorts. That kindness doesn't last long, not when your naked body is on full display for him. Looking down at you, he can feel himself salivate at your inexperience as it leaves you slightly covering yourself in nervousness. His eyes darken before he moves further down the bed, spreading your legs to place his face snuggly between them.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"Sweetheart," he growls as he peeks up at you, "What fun would it be if I didn't show you everything?"

Kissing and nibbling the skin on your inner thigh, his silky black hair prickles against your other leg. The closeness of the sensations to your throbbing core makes you squirm involuntarily. Feeling him chuckle against your thigh, your hands fly to your face as it heats up from the embarrassment. After giving both thighs plenty of attention, he centers himself, proud to see you soaking already. Running a finger through your folds, he uses your arousal to coat his fingers before sliding them inside you, one at a time. At the first insertion, your body tenses in response to the newfound sensation. You expected that you'd feel similar to when you do it, but the angle, the size, the speed - everything feels so different. He moves the finger in and out before adding his second one, stretching your tense body out some more.

He kisses your thigh as his fingers curl inside of you, "Relax, sweetheart. Believe me, it'll feel so much better when you untense yourself. Breathe. Enjoy it."

At his coaxing, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Letting yourself relax, you notice the knots in your body fading, replaced with the intense warmth of your core and the slow, intoxicating movement of his fingers inside you. Noticing this, Seonghwa leans in, swirling his tongue around your folds and quickly finding your clit. He's careful and calculated in his movements here, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet. But he knows exactly how to work you up, and you feel something build inside you. You recognize this feeling and let your hips grind against him as you chase after the high you desire. He flattens his tongue against your clit, the roughness and pressure sending you over the edge. He continues curling his fingers perfectly inside you as you ride through your orgasm, the feeling rippling through you.

Slowly removing his fingers from you, you wince at the emptiness, but he caresses your cheek and shushes you as he lifts himself again. Dragging his shirt over his head, you gawk at his torso. He's slim but well-built. Not quite six-pack well, but the soft lines running down his abs look better without the added dimension. You lift your hand to drag your fingertips over his body, but he's too busy tearing his pants down to give you a chance. Your gaze drops as he moves, drawn to his cock standing tall and proud. You were right - he's definitely sculpted by gods, and whoever made him needed to be worshipped even more. How could a dick be good-looking? Everything you'd seen before was not for looking, but his looked delicious, curving upward slightly and built to spread someone open in the best ways.

While you're busy gawking at him, he climbs above you again. Grabbing your jaw roughly and forcing your gaze back to his face, he smirks.

"My face is up here, love. What could possibly be better to look at than this face?"

Crashing his lips against yours again, he doesn't need to hear an answer. Holding himself up with one arm, he moves a hand between his legs. Grabbing himself, he coats his length in your fluids by rubbing himself between your folds. The small touches leave you begging for more as he pulls his lips off of yours.

"Please... I need it."

"Oh? You need it? What a gorgeous sentence to fall from your breathless lips. Well, let me oblige."

Lining his tip up with your entrance, he slowly pushes in, stretching you out even with such a small amount. Growling with a clenched jaw, he manages to keep his pace despite wanting to bury himself entirely inside you. After a painfully long wait, he bottoms out inside of you. His length brings tears to your eyes, but they don't overflow. The burning stretch shifts away after a while, but your breath remains caught in your throat.

Pecking your lips and rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, he praises you, "You're doing so well. You can take all of me. Good job, baby girl. Let me know when you're ready."

His kind words calm you down, allowing your breathing to return to you. when the burn fades completely and your body adjusts to his size, you wiggle a bit, urging movement.

"Use your words, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

"Yessir. Please move."

Once again, your innocence feeds his urge to ruin you entirely. With your sweet voice and naivety of what it'll feel like when he moves, he throws out his plan to ease you into everything. Pulling back slowly, he slams into you, his hips hitting your thighs on impact. He keeps going at this pace, roughly slamming into you again and again. Your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open, noises messily leaving your lips as your brain muddles. His hands grip your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh as he uses his grip to pull you into him. Filling the room with the sounds of sex, Seonghwa's head falls back for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"Seonghwa," his name falls softly from your lips, "I'm gonna-"

Unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm crashes upon you, Seonghwa groans at the sensation of you finishing around him. He picks up his pace, sloppily pounding into you as he chases his own high. Leaning forward into you, his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping onto your skin as he finishes inside you. Feeling the warm liquid shooting into you, you feel strangely complete, as if all you needed to feel alive again was a grim reaper's cum.

As Seonghwa lies on top of you, your collective pants now the only sounds in the small room, you thank him for obliging in your silly request. The embarrassment of begging a total stranger to take your virginity finally hits you, so you add a small apology at the end.

Brushing your hair with his fingertips, he replies, "Don't apologize. Thank you for letting me be your experience, it awakened and quelled a desire I didn't realize I had."

"'Your experience,' that's funny. Since it's my first and last, right? You'll be all I know." You poke fun at the situation in front of you, trying to relieve the nerves slowly gathering about the afterlife.

"Good." He growls out deeply. "Keep it that way. It makes me so happy knowing that you really are all mine."

Tags: @dimpledsatan-recs @mo0nbeams

[scullysexual]

She’s already in the water when he climbs in, the cold a welcome relief from the heat of the day and the humidity of night. He sits on the ledge, the water coming up to just above her chest, the perfect height. Scully is submerged, the water sitting just below her chin. She doesn’t seem to mind it, however.

Mulder takes her in. He yearns to see her bathing suit, to see the way it hugs her body, cups her breasts. It’s black, he knows, he can see the thin straps, the way they travel up her shoulders and disappear behind her neck.

Her hair is up. Twisted in that way he oftens sees after she’s had her bath. Freshly washed hair kept away from the chlorine and he knows it’s freshly washed because it’s thicker, brighter. The strands that don’t quite reach or stay in their clips float about in the water around her neck . The night air is still humid and the smaller hairs that frame her face curl around.

And her freckles. She is bare faced tonight, a rarity he sees, and the sunshine today has made them pop. He asked her once why she covered them, her response was to pull a face and say, “Because I already look younger than I am, Mulder. I don’t need to be looking like a child as well.”

He didn’t think she looked like a child, she looked carefree. He wanted to reach out and kiss each one, pull her clothes away and discover the hidden ones, kissing and naming as he goes, drawing the constellations between them.

Looking at her now, he is aching for her and he is achingly hard staring at her.

“It’s nice out here, at least,” she says looking around.

“Yeah, it is,” he says back, not referring to the scenery surrounding them at all.

And maybe he’s looking at her a bit too closely, a bit too lovingly, for she turns back to him, eyes narrowing.

“Do we have something to talk about, Mulder?”

Mulder blinks, swallowing, sitting up a little straighter. “I, um…Do we?”

She is suddenly before him, close enough to touch. He can see more of her now, no longer obscured by the water. His gaze falls down, brain short-circuiting, eyes almost popping out of his head.

Cleavage. Lace criss-crossing over her breasts.

“Mulder?”

There’s a note of desperation in her voice. Mulder begrudgingly pulls his eyes away and looks at her. Suddenly the number 36 hits him like a brick.

36 freckles on her face.

“36!” he yells out.

She looks at him puzzled.

“Sorry,” he apologises, looking away, unsure why he said it.

She’s closer to him now, a knee either of his hips, straddling him. He can smell her body lotion and it makes his brain go fuzzy, blood rushing south as he sits in pure torture.

“Mulder?” she asks again. He looks at her so goddamn close.

Her hands touch his shoulders tentatively and he jumps at her touch, heart hammering. He wants to ask her what she is doing but whatever she’s doing is incredible and he doesn’t want the spell to break.

“What is it, Scully?” he asks instead, his voice sounding hoarse. He resists the urge to touch her, clenching his fists instead under the water.

Her eyes briefly flick down to his lips, her own parting slightly, before they return to his eyes.

“Kiss me.”

His body acts quicker than his brain can respond. In an instant his mouth is crashing down onto hers. The hands that fought so hard not to touch her grip her sides. It’s game over when his fingertips touch the bare skin of her back.

Mulder pulls away and is momentarily distracted by how flustered Scully looks: cheeks slightly pink, lips swollen…He’d be impressed with himself if he wasn’t currently pushing her into to him, desperate to see what his hands are touching.

There was clearly a theme going on with this bathing suit she’s chosen. The back criss-crosses in the same way it does at the front, leading all the way down until it reaches the small of her back.

“Fuck, Scully…” His head falls onto her shoulder. He’s hard. So hard it’s painful.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” she says shyly. “I bought it for you.”

He’s died, he thinks. He’s died and gone to heaven because there’s no way Earthling Scully would say something like that.

He starts to press kisses to her collarbones and the base of her neck.

“I love it,” he says though his speech is slightly muffled against her skin. “You should wear it all the time.”

His erection strains against his shorts and so badly does he want to pull her down and grind himself against her but the water is too deep for her and a drowning Scully would be an inconvenience to him right now.

“Can we get out of the pool please?” he asks.

“God, yes.”

She climbs onto the bench and hoists herself out, sitting on the ledge, legs still dangling in the water. He gets a good full look of her bathing suit out of the water now and briefly closes his eyes, committing it to memory before he climbs out of the water himself.

They go the closest room which happens to be hers, forgo any towels or drying off. He kisses her again, letting, his tongue exploring her mouth while his hands explore her body. She sighs and moans while his hands stroke up and down her back, fingers catching on the lace.

“This isn’t a complicated contraption to take off, is it?” he asks against her lips.

Scully takes his hands, placing them off the back of her neck where the straps are tied in a bow.

“Just pull on that,” she says.

Mulder follows her instructions, yanking on the end and the bow breaks apart, straps separating.

They pull apart so she can take it off. The wet suit clings to her body as she forces it off but Mulder can barely focus on that as more and more new Scully is revealed to him. He’s never came just by looking at a naked body before but he can’t be certain it won’t happen now.

She kicks the offending item away and it sits crumpled on the floor, already soaking the carpet below it. Mulder’s eyes remain on her body until her hands go up into her hair and he snaps them up.

“Let me,” he says reaching out to pull on the clip. Her hair, curly from the shower, tumbles down.

Mulder doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

He stands there just staring at her, his jaw hanging open.

She smiles shyly. “Like what you see?” Her hands fall in front of her stomach, fingers nervously fidgeting with each other.

“Fuck yeah…” he answers, eyes still roaming, unsure what to linger on.

“Are you…?” she gestures to his shorts.

Why the fuck is he still wearing his shorts?

“Oh yeah.”

He pulls them off and kicks them away as quickly as he can while she sits on the edge of the bed. Her eyes widen slightly when she catches sight of him and it’s her turn to swallow.

“Mulder, it’s…”

He looks down at his own penis and tries to keep the smug smile away. “I know,” he answers. “It’ll fit, Scully.”

She frowns at him. “I know that. Just…go slow, okay?” She looks down at him again looking almost…fearful.

Mulder approaches the bed, his hands circling her thighs before parting them and kneeling between them.

“Hey,” he says, looking a finger under her chin and lifting her head up. “I’d never hurt you, you know that.” She nods and he presses a kiss to her lips and pulls away. “If you don’t want to do this just tell me.”

He waits for her answer, not moving.

“I want to do this,” she says.

Relief spreads through him because he wants to do this too.

He really wants to do this.

He kisses her once more.

“Then budge up a bit, baby.”

She moves, twisting so she’s laying against the pillows. Mulder hovers above her, her kisses her again, allowing the kiss to grow deeper than the last two. His hands start trailing down her body, venturing towards that place both she and him long to touch. He gets so close, just inches away before he trails his fingers back up the opposite way. She groans into the kiss.

“You’re an ass,”

Mulder chuckles. “You know you love it really, baby.”

“Call me baby one more time and I’ll shoot you.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to do this.” He touches a finger to her slit, slowly drawing downwards. Scully sighs, pressing deeper into the pillows.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yeah…” she sighs.

He gathers her wetness, circling her entrance and pushing a finger, then two, inside. She feels incredible, clenching around his fingers, the little sighs and moans exiting her mouth. He uses his thumb to swirl her clit and she jumps a little at the contact. He grinds into the edge of the mattress hoping to relieve some of the tension when she makes a noise, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“Mulder?” she says, her hand trying find him.

“Yeah?” The hand not currently inside her finds hers.

“I need…” He listens. “Inside…please.”

He moans at her request, fingers fucking her harder.

“Fuck, Scully…”

“I’m so close,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I want to come with you inside me.”

He never ever in a billion years think he would hear her say those words to him. He pulls his fingers out of her and puts them into his mouth, eyes closing momentarily at the taste of her. One day, when they’ve got time, he’s going to spend hours tasting her properly. For now, though, both he, she, and his dick want nothing more than to be inside her.

He lines himself up, is about to push in when suddenly—

“Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he exclaims but Scully shakes her head.

“We don’t need one. Please, Mulder,” he begs and how can he say no to a begging Scully.

He ventures in as gently and as slowly as he can manage, remembering his promise not to hurt her as he pushes it way in, feeling her stretch further than she did around his fingers. She’s tight and hot and wet, smelling of body lotion and chlorine and Scully and it’s that final realisation that he think causes him to black out.

He comes to seconds later to Scully pushing on him.

“Mulder, I really need you to get off me and move.”

“Fuck, shit, yeah,” he says, hoisting himself up, still dizzy. Slowly he starts to move. “I think I blacked out for a second.”

She laughs.

A wonderful, belly laugh which is incredible to hear but he is balls deep inside her and she is laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Can’t say I’ve never made a guy black out during sex before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything, baby.”

He starts moving in and out of her, sliding easily each way. He thought she felt incredible around his fingers but he had no idea what he was missing.

“I will get my gun,” she says but her threat is hindered slightly by the sigh that follows it immediately after.

“What’s stopping you?” he asks.

“You feel so fucking good it’d be a shame to kill you.”

It’s his turn to laugh then.

Soon all laughter dies and Mulder feels the familiar jolt.

“Are you close, Scully?” he asks.

“Yeah, just…”

He touches a finger to her clit once more, circling the bud until he feels her clench around him, her hips rising off the bed, and the fluttering of muscles as she comes all around him.

A orgasming Scully becomes his favourite Scully. It sends him over the edge, spilling into her.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Scully on top of him, covering him like a blanket, sleepy, naked, and soft in his arms.

He never wants to leave this room.

There is something on his mind, however. A question. What happens when they do eventually leave this room?

He spirals.

He can’t go on pretending he’s not been inside her, that he hasn’t sat in the front row hearing her moans, felt her coming around him, felt her skin soft and warm as it is, circling the cluster of freckles on her hip and thigh.

He can’t leave this room like none of it happened.

He won’t.

“I suppose it’s time to have that conversation now.”

“What conversation?” she asks. Her own fingers are making their own circles on his chest.

“This. What just happened.”

Scully sits up, albeit sluggishly, sighing and pushing her hair out of her face. Mulder thinks he should stop touching her but taking her hands off her body requires more strength than he has right now.

“Mulder—”

“I can’t act like this didn’t happen, Scully. I won’t.”

Her hands touch his face like it’s the last time she’ll ever touch him and he holds onto her tighter hoping that it isn’t.

It’s not.

“Later,” she lays back down on his chest, adjusts herself more comfortably. ��Later, I promise. I just want to stay like this a little longer.”

Later. He can give her later.

@today-in-fic

[muddyorbsblr]

save my room for last

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: the morning after 'a sizing mishap', hours before 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce'

Summary: One of the duties you're assigned for Soccer Aid Training Week is to run wakeup calls for a handful of players. Today you and your fellow staff members draw names for who you have to wake up.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ | smut-ish times [minors & pearl-clutchers, don't even try me i am not the one]; one (1) cuss word

Things to be aware of: cuddly clingy and overall menace bf Tom; cozy steamy times 🥴😮‍💨

The high-pitched scandalizing notes of your alarm pierced the quiet of your hotel room, effectively steamrolling your peaceful slumber in your boyfriend's arms.

"Too early," Tom grumbled, holding your naked body tighter against him. "Sun hasn't even begun to peek through." You fought the urge to snuggle further into his side and burrow your face into the crook of his neck as large hands freely roamed your back.

"I gotta go," you groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and trying to roll out of his hold, only making him let out a whiny groan and wrap his fingers around your thigh to pull you back to him. "Sweetie if I'm late I get whoever's left in the bowl for the wakeup calls." You had to bite your lip to hold back any reaction you had to his hand now lazily kneading at the back of your upper thigh, fingers traveling dangerously close to the part of you that was already most definitely awake and beginning to ache for him. Again.

"Not yet," he mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead, tracing the features of your face lazily in sloppy kisses. "Just a few more minutes, goddess."

Dammit, when he got all whiny and needy like this, combined with the gravel of his morning voice, it was damn near impossible to deny him anything. You'd be downright hilarious to even try. And yet here you were, doing exactly that.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, but I gotta go," you mumbled, letting out a few giggles that were muffled when he pressed his lips to yours, already pulling you tighter against him and sighing out in contentment as he did so. "I wanna at least have a chance of drawing your name from the bowls."

"Hmmm…you as a wakeup call," he pondered, the tips of his fingers running lightly up and down your side. "But I already have that luxury. That pleasure. Why give that up now for the possibility of having it again later?" He tightened his hand around your thigh and pulled you on top of him, making you brace your hands on his chest. "Why don't we just enjoy the early morning…" he trailed off, running his hands up the side of your body and down to your hips. "Just like this?"

You let out a groan, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his cheek before making a motion to get up and out of the bed. "Because if we do this it could very well be my first and last time on the committee, which means that if you get called back next year, chances are I won't be working the event with you."

Stepping away from the bed, you held back a giggle from the sight of his absurdly long arm reach out for you before flopping down the side of the bed, fingertips barely grazing the floor. You had to turn around to focus on getting your clothes back on, seeing as the sight of his naked form stretching in bed with the sheets so haphazardly draped over him and barely covering him from the hips down served as quite the distraction.

Add to that the way that the sheets traveled down when he stretched, putting on a sluttish display of the well-defined Adonis belt that framed the smattering of hair from his belly button leading down a path you were all too familiar with. If you didn't look away now you would find yourself back in bed and taking him up on his offer, position in the committee and wakeup call assignments be damned.

Unfortunately you knew that you needed to be there when they drew names. You prided yourself in being fairly decent in reading people, and you saw how the other members of the committee eyed Tom. They would be there before the names were even in the bowl trying some way to rig the system and get his name on the off chance that maybe they would catch even a fraction of the glimpse of the view you'd had just seconds ago. The worst part was that you couldn't even blame them.

The only thing you could really do was make sure you had an equal chance of drawing his name, too.

You opted not to bother with your bra and underwear, seeing as you would end up showering when you got to the room that you were designated to share with two other members, Lilly and Simone, anyway. "Go back to sleep," you whispered into the relative darkness. "Whoever ends up drawing your name, just make sure you're fully ready because I don't trust them not to have a camera on them just to snap a picture."

"Will you do something for me, sweetheart?" he mumbled, seeing the silhouette of his hand raising as if reaching for yours in the dark. You put your hand in his once you'd slipped your shirt on, letting out a little squeal when he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Save me for last if you draw my name. I'll barely see you between my practice and whatever gets assigned to you for the day. If I get even a few minutes having you all to myself I want to savor it until the last possible second."

"I promise," you said with a giggle, easing your hand out of his and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you headed out the door.

You tried your best to make as little sound as possible when you stepped through the door of your assigned room, not wanting to wake your roommates so rudely considering the ungodly hour. Of course, there was only so much you could do with the hinges of the door closer all but sounding trumpets at your return.

"Hmph…" Lilly groaned into the darkness. "There's no way it's already time for the briefing."

"Calm down, it's just me. We have half an hour, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?" Simone queried softly. "Bloody hell where'd you sneak off to? When you didn't come in last night we thought you fell asleep in the lobby prepping the media passes. Had half a mind to go out there and retrieve you so you could actually sleep on a bed."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll have you know that I didn't pass out in the lobby, or a conference hall, or anywhere of the sort. My boyfriend's working the event, too. I spent the night with him." That announcement seemed to perk them both up considerably, both women sitting up from the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower and then we can all head over to the briefing together and see whose names we end up drawing."

"Please let me get Beck," Lilly whined. "My sister will be totally stoked and maybe I can even get him to greet her in a video or something." She was practically bouncing on her bed from excitement now. "Who do you two wanna get?"

"I don't much care who I get," you  bluffed, blindly choosing an outfit from your suitcase. "What about you, Simone?"

"Asa," she answered without hesitation. "Absolutely adorable, that one." She then let out a stream of giggles. "I'll tell you who a handful of women would absolutely slaughter each other to draw, though. Heard them last night talking about how they were tempted to rig the bowls somehow just so things go their way and maybe they could get a glimpse of the famous bulge that Marvel needed to shell out some extra bucks for to buff out with CGI."

"Rig the bowls?" you huffed. "What're they gonna do, have Hiddleston's name printed in special textured paper so they can feel which one to pick out?"

"Upper level conspiracy material right there," Lilly joked. "I'd bet they'd try and trade with whoever ends up drawing him. Gotta admit, though. I wouldn't mind getting his name."

"Same," you and Simone murmured.

Twenty minutes later and the three of you stood among the other staff members in the briefing room, four bowls filled with paper strips lined up on a table in front of you, and the head of committee, Johanna, standing on the other side of the table with a clipboard in hand.

"Right then. Each of you step up, draw one name from each bowl, and hold on to them until everyone's drawn four names each, two from Team England, and two from Team World. Then and only then will you all take turns sharing the names you've drawn. No swapping." She looked at the members closest to the door, her gaze landing on you. "Y/L/N. You're up first."

Your heart was pounding in every part of your body the entire way through, hoping beyond hope that one of the scraps of paper that now laid in your hand held Tom's name. You watched as the other staff members approached the table one by one, some of them doing the sign of the cross before reaching their hand in, others outright expressing how they wished they'd drawn your boyfriend's name once the papers were in their hands. All the while you did your best to feign indifference, fighting against your body's knee jerk reactions of tensing your neck or glaring at them as if you were imagining what they'd look like if their hair suddenly caught fire.

Once everyone had four scraps of paper each, Johanna randomly called out your names, instructing you to share what was written on your respective papers. With each disappointed announcement came more blatantly optimistic expressions from the remaining members; Lilly proudly announced that she drew the TikTok influencer Beck, and Simone beamed as she read out the name "Butterfield".

You took a deep breath before opening the papers when your name was called, struggling to not show the relief that washed over you as you read out the names in your hand. "Bolt…Claflin…Scott…Hiddleston."

"Y/N name your price," one of the more outspoken members from earlier, Brynne, called out. "Come on, you'd still have--"

"Rules are rules, Brynne. You heard me earlier," Johanna's voice echoed through the room. "No swapping. You know your assignments. Meet back here at oh-eight-hundred to receive your designations for the rest of the day."

Passing through the wakeup call runs of the players from the World Team went off without a hitch, consisting purely of knocking on their doors, announcing your presence, and they were out within five minutes and off to the practice field. There was a tiny bit of an awkward interaction with Sam Claflin pointing at your neck and asking if you were alright because it looked "concerningly red", even wondering if it was a rash.

"Thanks for the concern, but I promise everything's fine," you answered him, not-so-casually moving your hair about so that it fell down in front of your shoulders and covered the area in question. "It's not a rash."

That got quite the reaction from him, causing fairly taller man to break out in chuckles and lightly shake a pointed finger in your direction. "You're quite the character. I hope whoever gave you that 'not a rash' appreciates that."

"I think he does," you quipped. "I mean we've been at this seven years and he doesn't seem bored yet so looks like I might be doing something right," you topped off with a shrug, heading to Jill Scott's room next. "Good luck out there."

"Lovely meeting you, Y/L/N," he said with a wave before heading off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later you were knocking at the door to Jill's room, a ridiculous excitement slowly building inside of you and making you rock back and forth where you stood thinking about the next and final stop on your list before you had to return to the briefing room.

"Who is it?" you heard her call out from inside the room.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you said for the third time this morning. "Morning wakeup call."

"I'll be right out." A few moments later her door swung open, the woman greeting you with a warm smile. "Hey…Y/L/N, at the risk of sounding presumptuous or giving you cause of concern I have to ask you something."

Her premise took you aback, making you walk a little straighter and touch the ends of your hair, making sure that your neck was still considerably covered. "Pretty sure that just brought my blood pressure up a few points, but go ahead," you prompted her, trying to make light of the concern you were already feeling.

"It's just I noticed something whenever you passed by the field yesterday afternoon and--Ah screw it, best to just bite the bullet. You and Hiddleston…are you two an item?"

The question had your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. "Hmm? What uhh…what made you think that?"

"Well, if you two aren't a thing, I highly recommend letting the lad down easy because he looks at you like those videos of pets when they see their owners come home. Wide dopey eyes and like his heart wants to burst out of his stupidly wee jersey. That is the most irretrievably in love man I've ever seen with my own two eyes."

You didn't even bother to fight back the smile that stretched across your face. "We uhh…we are. I won't be letting anyone down easy today because honestly I'm so in love with the man it's borderline painful," you confirmed to her with a little shrug. "I may also be the one responsible for that tiny jersey currently fighting for its life. And the shorts. We're just trying to keep things a bit…less public, you know?"

She clapped her hands together loudly, suddenly looking victorious. "I knew it! For the record, you two make a lovely couple. His face lights up whenever he'd steal a glance your way yesterday. And when the other ladies from the committee try to chat him up, it's like he barely even registers that they're paying him any attention. You caught a rare one."

Her testimony on how he behaved when you weren't around had your heart swelling. If there was one thing that was eating away at you, it was the insecurity you felt knowing exactly who you were with and how much more objectively attractive those women that practically draped themselves over him were. And the fear always lingered in the back of your mind that one day he'd wake up and realize exactly that.

"I know," you choked out. "I really lucked out with him."

She pointed down the hall, starting to make her way to the elevator. "Am I last on your list or you have to make a few more stops?"

Your smile grew even wider, basically giving the answer away already. "No uhh…there's one more. Saving him for last."

A deviously amused toothy grin stretched across her face. "Ah, I see I see. Well I won't keep you. I'm sure you're excited to see him again."

You made your way back to Tom's room as fast as you could short of breaking out into a jog, practically power-walking down the halls until you rounded the final corner to the hallway where he'd carried you in his arms just the night before. Nearly even began to skip on your way there until you saw the small group of people that were waiting just a few doors away from his, the one closest to your destination being Brynne.

"Uhh…are you all waiting for your assigned players to get out or…?" you trailed off, already straightening your stance, deepening your voice, and taking on a posture that you only really dished out once in a blue moon. In private. With Tom.

Everyone but Brynne stepped away from their relaxed positions against the wall and walked back toward the elevator. You eyed the audacious, slightly taller auburn-haired woman expectantly. "Come on, Y/N. Be a team player here. Every time I've worked an event that involved him I don't even get the chance to be anywhere near him, I'm asking nicely please trade with me. I'll give you Payne--"

"Ew," you cut cut her off, not backing down from your 'boss lady-slash-domme' tone. "Shouldn't have led with that, Brynne. I mean I kinda feel for you that you got Mister more than big enough for you luv, when in fact I've been to children's parties that served vienna sausages bigger than what the guy's packing--"

"Exactly!" she empathized, letting out a chuckle and reaching for your hand as if to form a bond between you two. You knew better, though, and moved it just out of her arm's reach, knowing full well that the motion was meant to reach for the keycard you were suddenly holding tighter in your fist. "So please? Be a pal and let me shoot my shot?"

You did your best to keep your jaw unclenched, fighting every urge you had to make a show of this particular wakeup call and reveal the very blatant reason why you would not be helping her 'shoot her shot'. "You know, Brynne, I really wish I could help you but…it's my first year here and I really don't wanna get on Johanna's bad side by disobeying her 'no swapping' rule." The conspiratorial smirk on her face dropped, now eyeing you with incredulity as if you'd given her a resounding slap right to her ego.

With her more or less out of your way, you walked over to Tom's door and knocked three times, same as you did for the rest of your assignments.

"Who is it?" his muffled voice queried from the other side.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you called out. "Morning wakeup call."

You could practically hear the smile on his face as he spoke again. "Am I the last on your list?"

Oh sweetie there's no list. It's you. It's only ever gonna be you, you thought to yourself with a smirk. "Yup. Last one."

"Please, come in then." The eyes of your onlookers widened the side of saucers at what they heard. "I'm nearly ready, I wouldn't want you to wait out there on your feet. Come in, catch your breath. Really, I insist."

You made a show of looking a bit perplexed at the offer. "O-Oh. Uhm…alright then." You turned to give your fellow staff members a casual look, shrugging before using the keycard in your hand to open the door and slip into the room, your cheeks and neck already straining from the laughter you were reining in as you saw the image that greeted you. "That is not even remotely 'nearly ready'," you playfully accused, motioning to the towel that he held around his waist, water droplets still running down his torso from the shower you suspected he'd just finished at most a few minutes ago. "What if someone else drew your name?"

Before he could answer, you held a finger to your lips and pointed at the door, then signaled toward your ear to tell him that there were people outside listening, or as you snidely put it in your thoughts, 'rummaging for scraps'. "Simple, darling. I wouldn't have invited them in," he answered in a more hushed tone. "I really should finish getting ready, though. Wouldn't want to let this wakeup call go on for longer than is expected of me," he said in a teasing tone, making a motion as if to turn around.

The air left your lungs in a disbelieving chuckle as he released his hold on the towel, the weighed down fabric falling to the floor with a wet sounding thud, and baring every inch of his gloriously naked form to you.

You had to force yourself to look away, gripping the edge of the dresser so hard that you were sure the skin on your knuckles turned white the second you caught a glimpse of the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass.

That was monumentally easier back when he was mere feet away from you, and now nearly impossible with the way he walked right up to you, lightly wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists and leaning in to bring his lips closer to your ear. "I noticed you didn't have anything to put your hair up. I know how you get when your hair starts to stick to your neck," he whispered, lips lightly brushing across the shell of your ear.

He leaned in even closer, his slightly damp chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached around behind you with his other arm to tie a ribbon around your wrist. Your breathing hitched in the bach of your throat when he stepped even closer, working his thigh between your legs as he dipped his head and traced along your neck with the tip of his nose. "I uhh…I have to get back to the briefing room by 8…" you trailed off with a whimper, letting out a soft moan the moment you felt him press a kiss to your neck.

"We have time," he murmured, pressing another kiss on the same spot and smiling against your skin when you tilted your head and exposed more of your neck to him. He hummed into your skin, pressing closer against you, taking a deep breath as if he was breathing you in. "Is this a new perfume?"

His question, coupled with how he continued to press kisses along your neck, hands leisurely roaming your body as if you two had all the time in the world, put your mind in a haze. "It uhh…it is. One of the girls I'm assigned to room with suggested I try it out."

You began to grow weak in his arms as he kissed a trail down to your chest, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs to lift you up onto the dresser. "It's divine on you," he breathed against your skin, his lips kissing up to the other side of your neck and making you rest your forehead against his shoulder, struggling to take deep breaths.

When he started nipping and sucking at your neck was when you had to hold a hand over your mouth before you moaned so loud that everyone outside and maybe even the room above you would know exactly what was going down in this room. "What--"

"The mark on your neck looked lonely. Let me fix that," he whispered into your skin before latching his lips onto your neck again and proceeding to bite and suck a bit harder, causing you to press your lips to his shoulder and muffle your moan that way.

When you felt the all too familiar flames of your desire start to lick at your skin, your hands found themselves gripping at his back, struggling to remain cautious to not dig your fingernails in and claw at him.

"No," he grumbled against your skin. "Don't hold back, goddess. Sink your teeth into my skin. Mark me. Let me have you with me all day long." He weaved his fingers into your hair and moved to press his shoulder harder against you, as if urging you even more to leave your mark on him the way he was currently doing for you. His grip at the base of your hair tightened when you bit down on his shoulder, groaning into your neck a near euphoric sound that nearly sounded like a guttural 'thank you'.

You pulled away first, nearly gasping for air. "I have to be out soon or they're going to start gossiping about what they think is happening in here."

"They wouldn't be gossiping, sweetheart, because they would be correct," he shot back with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back from you and finally letting you down from the dresser, giving you a soft smile as he fixed your hair to cover both sides of your neck. "I'll be ready in two minutes. Grab a water before you leave, you look a bit flushed."

"Menace," you murmured, scrunching your nose at him and giggling when he tilted your head up and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before walking back into the bathroom to actually get ready. You made sure to take a few extra seconds before walking back outside. No sense in letting a perfectly good view go unappreciated.

As you'd suspected, Brynne and the other staff members were still outside when you stepped out of the room, water bottle in hand. "Wow…" she droned at you, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you were going to nick anything from the room, you shoulda gone for something with a bit more substance. Amateur."

"Okay first of all, I didn't swipe this," you bit back, your tone from earlier suddenly making a return and causing a few of the staff members to flinch at the sudden shift in the room. "He told me grab one, said something about me looking 'redder than usual'. Second? If you have a problem with me being assigned to this particular player, take it up with Johanna. Because frankly I don't have the fucks to spare to deal with your petty toddler pageant behavior."

She stood in front of you gobsmacked, a small sound of utter shock escaping her when you made sure to bump against her shoulder hard when you walked past her as the door to Tom's room opened.

"Oh…I suppose you're all here to perform wakeup calls for your assigned players? Like Y/N?"

His words seemed to snap everyone out of their reverie and they haphazardly approached the doors and knocked, hollering their names and telling the person on the other side that they were there for the morning wakeup call. Your boyfriend let out a soft chuckle, subtly shaking his head at their antics and lightly touching the inside of your wrist before signaling for you two to walk toward the elevators.

"Am I mistaken or did I hear you using that voice you have tucked away for some of our more creative nights out here?" he asked under his breath, deftly swiping the bottle from your hand and bringing it to his lips to take a few gulps before handing it back to you.

"Had to," you answered before you finished off the contents of the bottle. "She was trying to make a move on what's mine."

That had him quickly wrapping his hand around your elbow and leading you into a more narrow hallway that probably led into the hotel staff's service walkways, walking you back against the wall and lightly gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Much as I adore it when you get a touch territorial, you do know that no one will ever succeed? There's no one in this world that can lure me away from you. I'm yours. Always."

You rose to the tips of your toes, bringing a smile to his face as he met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. "I love you," you murmured against his lips, letting out a whiny whimper when you heard the footsteps of the other players and staff members about to round the corner.

"I love you, too." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before you two parted ways and he went toward the elevator, casually greeting the other players as he met them. Meanwhile you made your way back to the briefing room, surprised to find yourself the first one there.

"Ah. Y/L/N. With fifteen minutes to spare, too," Johanna greeted you. "How'd you like to be assigned to set up for the Elementals video?"

You fought to keep back the sheer joy that you felt from the offer, the knowledge that you'd be seeing Tom again in a short while filling you with so much excitement you were itching to dance on the spot. "I'd like that very much. Thanks, Johanna."

A/N: I was supposed to have posted this yesterday during my birthday but I got sidetracked building a Baby Groot Lego set 😂🫡 There's about 4 more stories that take place during Soccer Aid week for these two and honestly I can't wait for y'all to see what else I have in store for them because they're precious menaces in love 🥹🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter six

you know you never stood a chance series

six: hold me like a grudge

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: After a tense situation, you reunite with Ellie and Joel.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, description of injury, spanking, pussy spanking, rough oral (m receiving)

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When the grass outside rustles underfoot, you flinch. You’ve been there for a while, long enough that the adrenaline started to seep out and leave you shaking in its wake.

The only reason you don’t shoot when you see a shadow is that Ellie takes the risk of speaking first.

“Hey, is that you?”

It’s so quiet, so careful. A sick part of you wants to stay silent, to hope they leave. But you’re forced to reckon with Joel’s evaluation of you: you’d never survive out here on your own. Probably wouldn’t even make it back to Boston, and then what? Get shot by FEDRA trying to get back in?

“Ellie?” you whisper back.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie starts to yell, stopping when you shush her loudly from the garage.

You move, stepping closer to the frame where you can see her before moving into the light. She throws her arms around you, and you freeze, holding the gun pointed to the grass, too afraid to move.

“I know he’s an asshole, but don’t do that again,” she scolds, brow furrowed.

You’re thrown off guard but feel a rush of affection for the girl. “Sorry,” you say.

Joel comes out of the house from the back door and glowers at the two of you. “Inside,” he barks.

You follow behind Ellie as she rolls her eyes and prattles on about a large stick and what he should do with it.

He shuts the door behind you, clearly having scoped out the whole house before Ellie found you. He turns to her. “Upstairs.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, now,” he snarls.

She goes to protest but catches your eye.

“Please,” you say. You don’t want her to witness whatever he’s about to say to you.

When she’s gone, he rounds on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You stare at the floor, lips twisted as you fight the urge to lash out.

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Huh? You listening to me?” He huffs out a laugh. “Clearly not, or we wouldn’t be here right now. We got one fuckin’ rule, do you remember?”

When you still don’t answer, he shakes your chin a little, jostling your jaw and drawing your glare to him.

“Well?” he says.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Do as I’m fuckin’ told,” you mimic his drawl, poorly.

This wasn’t your first time out. After that night, when he fought with Tess, he dragged you with them on a supply run. It was fairly standard shit. Before you left the QZ, he had armed you—for appearances only, he reiterated, don’t touch those unless you’re gonna be ready to use them—and then told you the rule.

And you listened. Same shit, different place. He said drop, you’d drop. He said run, you’d run. Mostly, you just kept a nice resting bitch face in place so their contacts wouldn’t know you were an easy target.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he says, still holding your face in place. He tugs the revolver from your other hand, not that you resist, and shoves it in his waistband.

“Just leave me here.”

“Shut up.”

“You asked me a question.”

“Yeah, and I expected a real answer, not a stupid one.”

You move to kneel, but he grabs you.

“Not a bad idea, sweetheart, but you gotta watch that ankle.”

The thought gives him pause, and you watch apprehensively as he considers things.

“We’re staying here today. You’re gonna rest that fuckin’ ankle, and we’ll get back on the road in the morning.”

Ellie is thrilled to discover you’ll be taking the day off in a place with real beds. She finds some old sudoku books and pencils and hangs out in “her” room.

True to his word, Joel makes you stay in bed all day. Your foot is propped up on a stack of pillows. You sulk, but he brings you a couple of books to choose from, a bottle of water, and some cold soup, just like getting sick back in the old days.

Actually, it’s a little too much like the old days. It makes you want to run. Instead, you let the historical nonfiction novels lull you in and out of a hazy sleep.

He comes to get you after nightfall. Ellie’s sound asleep, and he brings you into the room he had staked claim to.

“You ready to say sorry?”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you mumble.

“What were you thinking?” He asks again. He’s softened since this morning, to your great relief.

“I’m tired of being your burden.”

“Is this ‘cause I don’t get to fuck you?”

“No. I mean, sort of. It’s bad enough that I can’t pay you out here. But then to be a risk, to create more trouble than just being a mouth to feed…”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Lay down on your back. Head over here,” he gestures to the end of the mattress.

The abrupt change is exhausting, but you do as you’re told. Once you’re lying there, head draped off the edge of the bed, he reaches down and takes his cock out. He has to bend his knees a little, being just tall enough over average to not quite fit together, but he slides into your mouth.

It’s so easy this way for him to press right into your throat.

You try to pour out your excess emotions, the residual fear, the relief, everything by finding purpose through his dick, but he pulls out when you try to get a hold of him.

“Not this time, sweetheart. You want me to take what ya owe me? Fine. I’m gonna use your throat as a fuckin cocksleeve.”

The words shouldn’t please you, but they do. The catharsis of the relief, the elation at being useful, and his touch all send you trembling.

“You better not cum,” he warns. “Not until I’m fillin’ ya up.”

You want to argue that he’s already filling you up, but a) he’s absolutely not in the mood, and b) well, he’s filling you up, so you can’t really speak.

Instead, you do the only thing you really can do. You lay there and take it. He lets you curl your hands around his thighs, holding on so you don’t go scooting up the mattress during the more aggressive thrusts. It lets you stabilize your head and tilt to an angle that grants just a little more air.

It’s rough in a way he hasn’t been before, which is saying something, but it’s also transcendental. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you’re in the fucking clouds. You’ve never felt so light, so peaceful.

He pulls out abruptly, fingers squeezing the base of his cock as he pants. It’s still so close to you, so you use his legs to push upward and try to get it back in your mouth.

He swats at your cunt. “Quit it.”

You moan, the pain turning quickly into a tingle that spreads across your lips and clit. It worked, though, and you back off, now dangling half off the bed, only supported by your palms against the thick trunks of his thighs.

He scoops you up, an arm under each of yours, and pushes you back up on the mattress. “Hands ‘n knees,” he says.

You’re still feeling a little weird, so when you’ve gotten into position, you drag a pillow over and nuzzle your face down into it, arms threaded under it to hold it against you.

“You’re all cockdumb now, huh?” His hand traces over your lower back. You moan, a quiet, rumbly thing, and press back toward him.

He smacks your ass. “Hold still, pretty girl. Let me open you up.”

You don’t do more than drool and moan as he works his fingers into you, stretching you to ease his passage. His other hand stays on your lower back like a brand, an anchor. When he pulls his fingers out, he licks them clean before guiding his cock to where you’re dripping and aching for him.

He pushes in slowly, and you arch your back under his broad palm. He pushes you back down against the bed, hand settling between your shoulder blades and another wrapped in your hair.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbles. “Foolish little brat.”

Tears well up. It’s so much. Everywhere he touches you is past ignition, already licked clean by his flame, ash smoldering in the wake.

“Quiet,” he hisses, and you realize the soft little sounds permeating your dream were your moans and gasps. You bite your lip hard, face screwing up at the pain, but it works.

He doesn’t like that, though. He lets go of your hair and sighs, pulling out just to roll you onto your back before plunging back in and picking up the pace to take you apart. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, groaning as your teeth sink into the dry and calloused flesh, tethering you to the earth.

The sound of his hips slapping against you should be a bigger concern, but that would mean stopping or slowing down, and he doesn’t see that as an option. Instead, he watches as your blank eyes blink up at him, wet and wide, and your lips wrapped around his thumb.

“Christ. You really just need your holes filled, and suddenly, ya know how to be good. Fuckin’ slut.”

“Your fault,” you choke out, the words slammed out of you by his aggressive pounding. “Wasn’t—b-before.”

You wish you hadn’t said anything when he laughs again, dark and pleased with himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. Only a fuckin’ whore for me now, huh?”

Finally, finally, he touches you when he’s getting close, tugging the thumb from your mouth to rub the wet pad of it against your clit.

“You ready, sweetheart? Gonna cum on my cock, make me feel good?”

You whimper, nodding. “Yes, Joel, please.”

He works you to it until you break down, clenching around him so tight. He has to make himself pull out, his sex-addled brain screaming for him to bury himself deep in you. Instead, he covers your stomach.

You’re shaking through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and he rubs at your clit until you give him another one. It’s easy, you fall right apart, and then you’re practically limp, breasts heaving with the effort to breathe steadily.

He swipes a finger through his mess and brings it up to your mouth. You suck it clean, and he does it again until he’s fed you most of it. You take it each time, sucking and licking his finger, and watching him with wide eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet like this. Why can’t you just listen this good all the time?” It’s said softly, fondly, but it cuts you deep. He stands up, stretches, and leaves the room without another word.

You start to cry, burying your face in the pillow and holding your breath so he doesn’t hear. You’ve gotten good at this, over the decades, of choking down your weakness and swallowing it whole, letting it rip you up inside rather than out, so by the time he’s come back in the room, you’ve quieted.

You rub away any lingering tears with sleepy fists and a yawn.

“You think you can sleep with your ankle propped up?” he says when he crosses the room.

You nod, one fist still over your left eye, which won’t stop stinging, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

He catches your shoulder. “You’re stayin’ right here. Lay down, and I’ll set it up.”

Slowly, you settle back onto the bed. He must really not want you to walk on it if he’s going to trade rooms. Maybe the injury was worse than you thought.

The rest of his cum has dried, leaving a tacky residue on your stomach. He doesn’t wipe it clean, though; he never does anymore. Not worth wasting the water over, you think.

That’s what he tells himself, too.

The gentle hands you remember from so long ago have returned, delicately arranging pillows under your leg. You twist your top half to thank him, only to find him pulling back the blanket to slide into bed beside you.

It’s fully dark, now, when he presses a kiss into your hair and settles on his back beside you. Even through both of your shirts, you can feel the warmth of him where your back presses to him. He doesn’t hold you, but the closeness is enough to let you drift off to sleep.

The sun breaks through the bedroom windows before the birdsong wakes you. Joel is already awake when you roll over. This time, he does sneak his arm beneath you, pulling you to his chest.

You can’t breathe, too afraid the movement will fully wake him up. He’s never, not once, given you this much of him. You idly wish he hadn’t, because how were you supposed to live without it now?

“This is a nice quilt,” he says, shattering the silence before you work yourself into a panic. “Shame we gotta leave it here.”

“You get the stuff, and I’ll make you one when we get back.” Your voice is muffled in his shirt, too tense to pull away and properly look at him.

“Didn’t know you could sew.”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Miller. Sucking cock, basic sewing, annoying the hell outta you…” Aw, fuck. End of list. Oh well.

He chuckles, and you hate the way you can never tell if he’s laughing at your joke or laughing at you.

You fall back into quiet again, and when you think he might have dozed back off, you relax a little, letting your head find a home in the hollow where his arm meets his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to his t-shirt.

“I know, sweetheart. Look, when we get home, if you want to leave, I won’t stop ya. But not out here. Not like this.”

“M’not leaving. I got a quilt to make, remember?”

He leans down and kisses the top of your head, resting that way for a moment with you drawn close.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last. Ellie bursts through the door, boundless energy as always, sending your already-racing heart into overdrive.

“—room is empty; what did you say to her? Couldn’t you just have been nice?”

Joel waits, staring at her blankly. You, however, have buried your face in his side. You’re both fully dressed, and there’s no evidence of anything, but you know she’s not stupid.

“Oh, ew, god, come on! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She’s backing out, pulling the door behind her, but her disgust carries down the hall.

Joel tilts your chin up with a curled finger. “At least we know she didn’t hear any of the other times I fucked ya.”

Your cheeks are on fire, and you can’t look him in the eye.

“It’s not like she walked in on us,” he teases.

“She’s never going to talk to us again,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it. If not, you can give her the talk.”

“Oh no. No, you can handle that.”

“Let’s let the Fireflies handle that,” he decides, scrubbing at his beard with one hand. He gets up, groaning. “Should make it to Bill’s today, even if we go slow.”

“Joel—”

“I know you’re not about to argue with me, right?”

Your mouth twists into a scowl, but you soften when you look up at him. The sun through the window is bathing him in yellow, and his brown eyes trip up your heart like they always do.

“No,” you say with a sigh. “I’ll follow you.”

He stops you before you leave the room, two fingers under your chin. “When we get to Bill’s, I’ll help you add another thing to that skillset of yours.”

“What?”

He hands you back the revolver you had stolen from the garage skeleton. “I’ll teach ya how to shoot.”

next chapter

*title from "Hold Me Like a Grudge" by Fall Out Boy

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 9 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: shoutout to my forever beta reader @janaispunk for looking this bad boy over!

Words: 2923

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry August 4, 1994  Dear Javi,

There are things I can’t bring myself to say. Even out on the back patio under the safety of the stars, I can’t tell you how scared I am that you won’t come back. It terrifies me. I did life without you for so long, but I’m not sure how to go back to life without you in it. We’re going to miss you alot. 

You won’t ever see this, but please come back. 

This time would be different. It ran on repeat in Javier’s head as he stared out the large windows that overlooked the buzzing city. New position, new apartment, new drug cartel. This time had to be different; he couldn’t get lost in it like last time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to start back at the DEA in the morning.

He unpacked his last suit case, having put it off since his arrival Friday night, the one that contained his few treasures in life. Framed photos from Chucho: the ranch, the two of them, an old family photo with his mom. A crayon drawing from Alejandra: both of them on horses. A bottle of whiskey from Jaime. A journal from Emily. 

“To write down all those thoughts racing through your mind. Even the ugly ones,” she had told him.

He set it on the end table next to the family photo with his mom. This time would be different. A silent oath. 

Alejandra’s drawing went on the fridge, the bottle of whisky on the counter, and the other pictures on the bookshelf. He looked around. It all felt scattered, empty, nothing like the apartment he’d made for himself last time. 

The familiar urge to go out, drink a couple of fingers of whiskey, and take a warm body home crept in. He fought against it. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This time had to be different. He’s promised himself over and over again it would be. He promised his dad he would call and write. He told Emily the same… 

Could he be here and not let it consume him? Could he be soaked in it all and still talk to her? Be worthy of her friendship? Being here, he felt the sins of his past marring his hands, so real and tangible. The same hands Emily allowed to touch her, what a privilege that was. The same hands she felt safe in. 

Javier thought about all the things he used to do when these thoughts raced through his mind when he couldn’t handle the big emotions: bars, cigarettes, sex. Too many times to count. His fingers itched at his side to grab his leather jacket and go. 

He paced the length of his apartment running a hand through his messy hair. Then it caught his eye: something sticking out of the journal. He pulled it out. 

A crisp envelope with his name written neatly in the middle: Emily’s handwriting. He popped it open. Polaroid pictures. He shook his head thinking about the grief he gave her for carrying that thing everywhere, but a smile appeared on his lips. There was one of him standing in the riding rink as Ale trotted around him on Hurricane. Another taken on the patio just last week: he and the kids eagerly chowing down on popsicles before they could melt in the Texas sun. He could see the red ring around Mateo’s mouth and drip down his chin as the sun beat him. One on the small dock next to the boys and his dad, lines cast into the pond Chucho stocked on the ranch. Javier smiled. Miguelito caught the biggest bass that day. Chucho had been dumbfounded. 

He sucked in as he flipped to the last one. It was the picture Alejandra had taken at the park just after he told her he was returning to Colombia. She leaned into him, an ease rarely seen in her. He’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, followed her lead, and leaned in. His thumb rubbed over the picture. He’d put an arm over her shoulder, her hand on his knee it all looked so… peaceful, domestic even, like they were- He cut the thought off, letting the picture fall to his coffee table. 

For so many reasons, that was a bad idea. 

He padded his pockets, finding the Nicorette gum. He popped the last piece into his mouth. He should grab more on his way to work in the morning. 

The Polaroid stared back at him. He looked happy, wrinkles cutting deep around his eyes. He picked the photo back up. He had been happy that day. Happier than he could remember even as he grappled with his decision to return to Colombia. Black ink on the back grabbed his attention. Don’t forget about us, okay? Her handwriting again. Her words to him that day.

He smiled to himself. That was his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d had one of those for a long time. Sure, he and Steve got along, but Steve was back in Miami. They still talked about once a month, but the bond he felt toward this woman was different. He and Steve had been forced together. They had to trust each other. Their lives had depended on it. Javier’s life sure didn’t depend on trusting Emily, but he did. She didn’t judge him. There were still things he hadn’t told her, and vice versa, but he knew when he was ready, he could. 

Javier slipped the photo of them into his wallet. This time was different.

He grabbed the phone off the end table and called his dad. The conversation was brief. The last thing he wanted to do was run up anyone’s phone bill, but he could tell his dad was happy to hear from him. He’d rarely received communications from Javier when he was in Colombia the first time. 

His fingers hovered over the buttons as he contemplated the second call. He told her he’d call. She told him to call. He pushed past the anxiety, pressing the buttons succinctly. He had it memorized. He checked his watch. It was bath night in the Kuykendall house. He knew that, but usually, the kids were bathed and in bed by now. 

Javier smiled as he thought about the few times he’d stumbled into bath night. It was true chaos and an event, but every single person wore larger-than-life grins. It was one of the times Javier felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, like he’d been brought into something sacred. 

“Hello?” Anna answered. He could clearly hear the laughter of children and adults in the background. 

“Hey, it’s Javier… I can call back if this is-“

“Not at all.” He felt Anna’s welcoming presence through the phone. “Emily just came out of the bathroom.”

“Bath night.” Javier chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Anna called for her stepdaughter. Javier couldn’t hear their exchange over the shouts coming from the living room. 

“Javier?”

An ache in his chest eased. “Hey, sounds like a madhouse there.”

Emily laughed and the sounds muted as if she’d shut them behind a door. “Dad seems to have extra energy to chase the kids down tonight. How is it to be back?”

“Strange.” Javier glanced out the window. The city flowed like it always did, people rushing from place to place. “I’ve got a nicer apartment this time.”

“Of course you do, Mr. DEA attaché.”

Javier chuckled. “That sounds too fancy for me.”

“You said the same thing when you bought those suits and I gave you that snazzy new haircut.”

Javier grinned, resting against the countertop. His eyes fluttered shut as he remembered the feeling of her fingers through his hair. His shirt stretched and pulled across his chest as he inhaled. “Still sounds too fancy for me.”

“You ready for your first day?”

“No.”

Her laugh crackled through the line. “Then why’d you go back.”

At that moment, Javier wondered the same thing. He’d much rather be back in Laredo chasing the kids around the living room. “I’m askin myself that same thing.”

“Then do it. Tell the DEA where to shove it and come home.”

He smiled, low chuckle pulling from his chest. “You and I both know I have unfinished business here.”

“Yeah…” Silence sat between them. He could still hear the kids in the background. Javier wracked his brain for the right things to say, but everything he wanted to say he couldn’t. “Finish it quick, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And stay safe. I can’t lose one of my only friends.”

“Oh?” Javier said. He felt an easiness take over him. “What about Lorraine? I thought she was your friend.”

“I said one of, and you’re my best friend anyway.” He can hear her eyes roll. “I mean it though, we all miss you already.”

“Tell the kids I said hi, okay? I’ll call another night when there’s time to talk to them.”

“Will do.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Em.”

“I will. I promise,” she said. “You too, Javi.”

Journal Entry August 8, 1994 Dear Javi,

I bet you spend all day behind a desk and hate every moment of it. It makes me laugh each time I think about it. It assures me that you’re okay too. Fancier job means a safer job, right?

As his first day back came to a close, Javier felt like he’d been there for a year. When he found the sticky note with the name of a nearby bar on his desk presumably left by Neil, he told himself one drink wouldn’t hurt. This time would be different. The mantra felt almost meaningless already. Similar things had been echoed in his meetings all day. This wouldn’t be like Escobar. There would be law and order and protocol. Politics were more important than ever. The world was watching now. 

One drink and then home. That was what he told himself as he sat down at the bar, ignoring his coworkers at the corner table. Pulling off his suit coat, he motioned the bartender ordering a whiskey. He turned down Neil’s invite to join the group. The guy was too eager to kiss his ass for Javier’s liking, put him up on a pedestal for taking down Escobar as if he hadn’t been suspended at the time. 

He swallowed the whiskey as soon as the glass was set in front of him. Then, he ordered another. Javier wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was too long. He rubbed his thumb over the crease of his forehead trying to talk himself out of the opportunity for stress relief sitting in front of him. The group in the corner had dwindled to two. A blonde he hadn’t met and the brunette he met at the beginning. Neil had introduced her. Karen? Katherine? Katie?… Katie sounded right. 

His staring wasn’t subtle, wasn’t flirtatious like he’d used to do it. If anything, it was creepy, staring at her while thoughts raced through his head. The mantra shortened until it was only a couple words as he tried to talk himself out of it. Different. Be different. It echoed over and over in his head. 

The bar was practically empty by now. She looked up and smiled at him like he wasn’t being a creep. He didn’t return it, still deep within his own mind. 

“Pretty girl.” Javier’s head snapped around to find fucking Bill Stechner of the CIA at his side. He slid onto the stool beside him. “Displays some shaky judgment in men though.” He looked at Javier.

Javier glanced away from Bill, looking over his shoulder as if to convey his annoyance with his whole body before turning back to him. He forced the briefest tip of his lips, the closest thing to pleasantries he could summon for the man. 

As most conversations with the CIA agent do, Javier was left with a sour taste in his mouth, the innate craving for a cigarette, and his failures thrown in his face. Then, Stechner laid it all out for him, the way things would go whether Javier liked it or not. Cali’s surrender. The facade of justice for the Cali Cartel. He didn’t like it, any of it, and he wasn’t sure why he came back in the first place, or why they even needed him. The DEA didn’t. He was just a pawn in Stechner’s game. 

“Cali will serve some time,” Bill said. He doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes pinned to the bartop. “Technically speaking.”

“And that’s enough for you?” 

The look that crossed Stechner’s face is something akin to a blend of annoyance and patronizing as he met Javier’s eyes. “If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail.”

It was only half a second before Javier averted his eyes, the shame of what he did flooding him. He wasn’t the hero everyone acted like he was. Stechner knew that. Javier kept quiet. 

“I know your guys are running an operation on Cali tonight.” Bill stood, putting enough cash on the bar to cover his and Javier’s tabs. “I can tell you this, it’ll come up double zeros.” More silence. “These guys don’t make mistakes. You try and go after the Cali bosses, all you’ll get is more bodies.” 

Stechner finished off his drink, patted Javier’s shoulder, and walked out without another word, leaving Javier with a bigger stress headache than he came in with. Try as he might, Javier couldn’t push it out of his head. He needed something, a distraction. He wouldn’t survive without one. 

Javier finished off the whiskey in front of him. He rubbed his forehead, searching for any relief. Different. It seemed quieter now, further away like his resolve was slipping. He needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here, shut off his brain.

He stared straight ahead, eyes glazing over, shining in the dim bar light as he pinched his top lip between his thumb and forefinger. Different. It felt useless, like he was bound to fail. A whisper of an oath. Maybe there was no different for him.  

It was almost instinctual, the way he glanced over, eyes meeting hers. She offered him a soft small now sitting alone at the table, cigarette held between her middle and pointer finger, like she had been waiting for him.  

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Hi Mr. Javi! It’s me, Ale. I miss you already. You should call me soon.” 

“Alejandra, who are you on the phone with?”

“Mr. Javi’s voicemail.”

“Ale, it’s expensive to call Colombia. Hand me the phone.”

“Oops.” She giggled.

A long sigh crackled over the line followed by a pause. “Hey Jav… I guess I’ve paid for the next couple of minutes, I might as well use it. I suppose you’re already working late since it’s after eight. Don’t let them work you too hard, okay? And you should still return my call.” More dead air. “It feels silly to miss you as much as I do. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days… Oh! I got into that class I was waitlisted for. Anne is willing to work with my school schedule so I still get my hours in at work.”

“Mommy!” A voice calls out in the background as a crashing sound follows it. 

“Shit” The machine clicked off. 

Javier woke up tangled in his navy sheets with the same stress headache and a greater hankering for a cigarette than he’d had in months. Katie slept soundly on her side next to him, back facing him. Her brown hair spread out over the pillow. She hadn’t tried to cuddle, and thank god she understood what last night had been. 

Without a second though, he reached for her purse, careful not to wake the naked woman next to him as he eased into a sitting position. Relief flooded him when his fingers glided over the pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

There was no hesitation as he put the cigarette to his lips and flicked the lighter to life. The nicotine flooded his body for the first time in months. Finally, he found some relief. 

Journal Entry  August 13th, 1994 Dear Javi,

I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure you’re okay. Dad said there were no reports of anything happening. You’re just busy, with your first week back and all… 

Alejandra asks every morning if you called her back. Mateo asks too. I think he’s hoping for stories of chasing down bad guys. Even Miguelito asked about you. 

We all miss you so much. 

Javier played the voicemail over and over, but he couldn’t bring himself to call back. He hadn’t lasted a day into the job without reverting to old habits. He’d fooled himself into thinking things could be different, into thinking if he did this the right way, if he brought down Cali the right way, he could be worthy of her one day. 

The whiskey burned on its way down. 

Journal Entry August 15th, 1994 Javier, 

I swear if you went and got yourself killed on your first week back, I’ll never forgive you. I won’t even say any nice words at your funeral. Imagine that, your best friend holding back all the nice things about you. The world can just remember you to be the asshole you showed them.

Seriously though, signs of life would be appreciated.

…………………………………………………………………..

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Hi

Congratulations again 🎉

Here is my request for your I love you 3000 Bonanza:

Steve Rogers, Fake Dating and the prompt:

"I'm tired of answering that question"

Thank you in advance 💞

Oooh this one was actually quite tough but I hope you like what I've come up with!

Not a Nobody - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Revelations occur when fake dating Steve leads you to getting captured

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Kidnapping! Light Angst! Fluff! Brief Mention of Blood!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

You were sat trembling in your seat, the metal frame of the chair like an iceblock against your bare skin. Despite the freezing temperatures, your skin was slick with sweat and your chest heaved as you tried to catch a breath. 

You flinched at the sound of heavy boots echoing around the abandoned warehouse, the owner slowly approaching. Your eyes darted to the man, instantly spotting the flash of metal as he pulled a knife out of his pocket as he approached.

You tried to control your breathing, make it shallower as he held the knife against your neck “Maybe this will get you talking hm?” he said as he caressed your cheek with the cool steel “Where is Captain Rogers?”

You screwed your eyes shut knowing your answer would only enrage your captor “Please, please I’m tired of answering that question, I - I told you I don’t know, please just let me go.”

Your captor let the knife dig into your cheekbone just enough to draw blood “And I told you, I don’t believe you” he growled “As Captain America’s girlfriend you should know everything”

You bit your lip to stop it from trembling when you spotted a shadow pass on one of the higher levels, you fought the urge to breathe a sigh of relief, help was coming you just had to hold out a little longer. 

Your captor must have noticed your gaze drifting though so you thought on your feet to keep his attention on you “I’m not!” you exclaimed bursting into tears “I’m not it was all a lie!”

Your captor faltered, blinked a couple of times in confusion “What?”

“It’s true it was all fake! Some paparazzi took our photo together once and everyone assumed we were together but we’re not! We were faking it!” you exclaimed as tears streamed down your face. 

“I don’t believe you” your captor growled. 

“It’s true I swear,” you said before shaking your head “god do you really think someone as low as me would attract the attention of a superhero? I’m nobody! Just some girl who works in a bakery! And he’s this amazing man who is selfless and kind and so loving and whoever he loves is gonna be the luckiest girl in the world” you gasped, the words tumbling out of you all of them completely true, you and Steve were just neighbours when that photo was taken but the last couple months had been the best of your life, even if the lie had ended with you being captured “god, god I wish I was lying right now because he means the world to me but I’m just a nobody”

Your captor studied you as he took a couple of steps back “Why? Why lie?” he asked, seeming to be actually curious. 

You scoffed and shooking your head, looking down at your lap as you gathered yourself “It was some stupid plan” you muttered as you looked up at him “They- they thought” you said before pausing to take a breath, the expression of a terrified damsel in distress falling, a smirk replacing it “they thought you wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation and kidnap me, they knew it would lead them directly to you”

Confusion passed across your captor's face before realisation dawned and his expression fell. He barely had enough time to react before a circular red, white and blue shield smacked into the side of his head and knocked him out cold. 

“Took you guys long enough” you breathed, pulling off the restraints that you had managed to untie the moment you arrived and wiping the blood from your face. 

“And miss your dramatic monologue?” Tony smirked as he landed in front of you and placed handcuffs on your captor, the head of a crime syndicate here in New York. 

“I’m glad that one acting class I took in college didn’t go to waste, but I think I’ll stick to my day job” You glanced at the sound of someone jogging over to you, a smile forming when you saw it was Steve. 

You went to stand from your chair but Steve put his hands on your arms “Whoa take it steady” he said, holding you upright even though you didn’t need it. 

“I’m fine Steve I promise” you reassured him.

“That cut on your cheek tells me otherwise” he said carefully brushing his fingers over it to assess how bad it was “Let’s get that cleaned up, you guys good in here if I take Y/N back to the jet?” 

“Yeah we’re good, go get some alone time,” Nat said with a knowing smirk. 

You frowned in confusion over at her but didn’t say anything as Steve led you out of the warehouse and towards the jet. Once inside he carefully guided you to sit down before grabbing the first aid kit.

You watched as he crouched down in front of you, removed his fingerless gloves and began preparing what he needed. When his gaze rose to meet yours he paused for a split second as if was gonna say something but he didn’t. He just raised the bit of cotton and gently tapped it against your skin.

You winced at the sharp pain of the iodine “Sorry” Steve murmured, continuing his work even more gently. 

The silence between you seemed to stretch in a way that it never had before, so much so that you felt the need to talk but couldn’t think of what to say. 

“Did you mean it?” Steve asked quietly making you jump, his gaze set on the first aid box that he was tidying away. 

“Wha-what do you mean?” you stuttered. 

Steve nodded his head in the direction of the warehouse “In there, what you said about me… did you mean it”

Your lips parted as you let out a long breath, you hadn’t meant to say what you did but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true you just hadn’t planned on saying it, it just tumbled out uncontrollably “every word” you whispered. 

Steve’s gaze rose to meet yours again, his bright blue eyes shining “So the past couple of months?” he started. 

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you recalled all the time you spent with Steve, living your dream, pretending to be his girlfriend and wishing it was real “Were the best 2 months of my life” you breathed. 

“They were for me too” Steve admitted swallowing nervously “You’re incredible Y/N, You’re not a nobody, never have been, you mean the world to me Y/N from the moment I met you”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief “Then why were you so against this whole plan?” you asked recalling how angry he got when the team suggested it. 

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, it was because I didn’t like the idea of putting you in danger” Steve sighed. 

A lopsided grin grew on your face as you cupped his cheeks and gently kissed him “It’s a good thing I have you to protect me then” you smiled, caressing his cheek with your thumb “Let’s do this for real”

Steve grinned back at you and nodded his head “Deal” he said before leaning back in and kissing you much deeper than before.

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Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

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[edgarapoecolouredglasses]

Little mastermind part two

THE GIF IS NOT MINE

Pairing: Troy Otto/Reader

Summary: Y/n and Troy work together to help Tracy through an asthma attack. After, they have a heart to heart

Part: 2/4? (It will probably be more)

Part one Masterlist

———————————————————————

Troy clasped Jeffrey’s hand in a firm handshake, offering him a smile that seemed all too genuine. “I wish you the best of luck,” he said, his voice steady.

I sat outside the office, waiting for Jeffrey to leave. When he finally walked out, I gave it a few minutes. Through the window, I watched Troy go about his business, calm and collected. His behavior appeared completely ordinary. He moved around the room, checking drawers for anything useful. After finding a handgun, he casually placed it on the desk before sinking into a chair with a sigh.

I decided I’d waited long enough and stepped into the study.

Troy looked up and exhaled heavily. “Did you see Diane?”

I took a seat and sighed. “They’re probably gone by now.”

He fell silent, and I watched him closely. Despite his composed exterior, there were subtle signs of his internal struggle. A horizontal crease had appeared between his eyebrows, a telltale sign of his stress that only emerged during times of significant pressure. His jaw was set tightly, and his gaze occasionally drifted to the desk, where the handgun lay, as if seeking solace in its presence.

Troy’s competence as a leader had always been evident. Under his watch, no one had ever been bitten. He ensured that no one was forced into dangerous runs and took every measure to keep us safe. His faith in leading us to safety would waver every time something like this happened. If he lost belief in himself, how could anyone else keep faith? The people that left had clearly underestimated the stability and security he provided.

Just as I was about to voice my thoughts, Troy interrupted with a click of his tongue. “Well, there’s much to do. Has everyone found a place to sleep? I want no one in the main hall. It’s safer if we keep the first floor empty.”

I nodded. “Yes, Denzel and Peter reported that the sleeping arrangements are all set.”

“Good,” he said, his expression lighting up unexpectedly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he added with a note of enthusiasm that seemed to momentarily lift the burden from his shoulders.

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity. Before he could open the door to walk me to this new person, the only other nurse left, Debra, barged into the room, her face flushed with urgency.

“Y/n, come quickly to the med bay! It’s Tracy, she—”

Before the nurse could finish, Troy and I were already pushing past her, sprinting toward the med bay upon hearing Tracy’s name.

As we arrived, the distressing sound of Tracy’s labored breathing filled the room. Troy was already at her side, his expression a mix of fear and determination. I quickly asked the other nurse to open the balcony door.

“Troy. Troy!” I called out, trying to get his attention. “She’s panicking. You need to take her to the balcony.”

Up until that moment, Troy had been as frantic as the rest of us, but he knew he needed to stay calm for Tracy. He managed to maintain his composure enough to gently but firmly guide her toward the balcony, despite her desperate attempts to push him away.

Once we reached the balcony, I instructed Troy to grab a chair from inside. While he went to get it, I knelt down in front of Tracy. Her face was streaked with tears, and she struggled to draw breath. Her tiny frame trembled as she fought for air, her cries piercing the tense silence of the med bay.

“Tracy, please look at me,” I urged gently. “I need you to focus on me. Come on, I believe in you. You can do this.”

I began to breathe rapidly to match her, then gradually slowed my breathing with each exhale. “In, out, in, out. That’s it, very good. In, out, you’re doing amazing. In, out, we’re going to slow down just a bit now. It might feel like you’re not getting enough air and that you need to start hyperventilating again. Just hold on and don’t give in to that feeling. Alright? In, out, in, out.”

Troy returned with the chair and carefully helped Tracy onto it.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice edged with concern.

“It’s all the signs of an asthma attack,” I replied, turning back to Tracy. “How are you feeling now, sweetheart? Are your lungs feeling any better?”

Tracy nodded, a small smile beginning to form.

“Just focus on catching your breath, okay? Try to stay on the balcony for a bit. I’m going outside to talk with your dad for a fart, alright?” I added with a playful tone, causing her to chuckle at my choice of words even though she was still catching her breath.

“Okay,” Tracy replied, her voice still strained.

“If you need anything at all, just ask Nurse Debra,” I said before signaling Troy that I needed to talk.

He opened the door for me and followed me outside.

Troy stared at me, maintaining a calm demeanor that contrasted with my growing anxiety. “How did she develop asthma all of a sudden?”

I rubbed my temples, searching for an explanation. “I��” I paused, considering possible triggers. “It could be anything: pollution, though I doubt it; allergies; dust mites; pollen; or even an infection. Without tests, there’s no way to pinpoint the cause.”

Troy sank into a nearby chair, looking defeated. “So there’s nothing we can do?”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, knowing the gravity of what this could mean. It wouldn’t have worried him so if, last year, a member of the group hadn’t died from an unmedicated asthma attack. He was 76 years old, but it still worried Troy.

“We can prevent another attack. I’ll keep her here for the night and monitor her closely,” I said, forcing a reassuring smile. “I’m sure I’ll figure out what triggered the attack. We’ll find a way to manage it.”

Troy straightened his back, running a hand through his hair. After a beat of silence, he looked up at me with a hint of concern in his eyes. “Have you had dinner yet?

I hesitated for a moment, knowing the answer. “No… I haven’t.” I let out a small sigh, realizing just how drained I was.

Troy stood, his expression softening. “You should eat something. I’ll stay with Tracy while you do. She needs someone with her.”

I looked over my shoulder at the med bay door, Tracy’s fragile breathing still fresh in my mind. The thought of leaving her, even for a short time, gnawed at me, but I knew Troy was right. I needed to keep my strength up, for Tracy, for the rest of the group—and for Troy himself.

I left the building, feeling the cool evening air on my face as I made my way to where the kitchen volunteers cooked on old electronic stoves. Instead of grabbing a meal for just myself, I picked up enough for three. I knew neither Troy nor Tracy had eaten either, and sitting together would be better than eating in solitude.

When I returned, Troy was still in the same chair beside Tracy, who had calmed down a little, her breathing more even now. Her eyes fluttered shut, though I could tell she wasn’t fully asleep.

“I brought dinner,” I said softly as I entered the room, holding up the small bundle of food. “For all three of us.”

Troy raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I replied with a gentle smile. “But I didn’t want to eat alone. Besides, you’re just as exhausted as I am, and Tracy needs to keep her strength up too.”

He glanced over at his daughter, then back at me, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking the food from my hands.

I set down the rest of the food and sat on the floor beside them. Tracy stirred slightly but didn’t wake. For a few minutes, there was silence, just the soft sound of our quiet movements as we began to eat. The tension in the room had lessened, but I could still feel the weight of what had happened hanging in the air between us.

After a while, Troy spoke, his voice low. “You’ve done so much for her. For all of us. I don’t know how you keep going.”

I looked down at my food, choosing my words carefully. “I keep going because I have to. You do the same thing, Troy. You don’t stop. Not for a second.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his expression softened. “We’re lucky to have you. Tracy’s lucky.”

“We’re lucky to have each other,” I said quietly, glancing at Tracy. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “You’ve been doing four people’s jobs, maybe more. You manage the daycare for the little ones, you teach the older kids reading and writing—hell, you’ve even started training them in basic medical care. And on top of that, you run the med bay and you’re practically always there when I need you. You’re doing everything.”

I opened my mouth to brush it off, to say it was just what needed to be done, but he stopped me with a look.

“No. Don’t brush it off,” he said, his tone more firm. “I see everything you do, and I know how much of the load you’re carrying. I know you’re tired, even if you won’t say it.”

I let out a long breath, leaning back against the wall. He wasn’t wrong. I was tired—exhausted, really. But I did it because it needed to be done. Without me, things would fall apart.

“I do it because I believe it’ll pay off,” I said after a moment, my voice softer now. “I believe in what we’re doing, Troy. I believe that you’ll get us to a safe home, where we won’t have to live like this anymore.”

Troy’s eyes softened at my words, but there was something else in his expression too—guilt, maybe. He looked away for a second, and then he seemed to remember something, straightening up slightly.

“That reminds me,” he said, setting his plate aside completely. “I was going to introduce you to someone.”

“Right.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “During the last supply run, we found some survivors. One of them was an elementary school teacher. She said she taught for years before everything… you know, before all this.” He gestured around, as if to encompass the entire broken world we were living in.

My eyes widened slightly. “A teacher?”

He nodded again. “She’s willing to help. It’ll take some weight off your shoulders, especially with the kids.

For a moment, I just stared at him, processing what he’d said. The idea of someone else stepping in, someone who actually knew how to teach, felt almost unreal. It was like a huge knot of tension in my chest slowly started to loosen.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, feeling a rush of relief that I hadn’t expected. “That’s… that’s incredible.

Troy smiled a little more fully now. “I figured you’d be happy to hear it. You’ve been doing everything yourself for so long. It’s time you had some help.”

I exhaled, letting my head rest against the wall behind me, the weight of my exhaustion crashing into me as I realized just how much I’d been carrying.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the tiniest bit of hope rise up again. “Really, thank you. That’s going to help so much.”

Troy stood up, walking over to the window and looking out into the night. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve been holding this group together as much as I have. I should’ve found help for you sooner.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve done more than enough. I just… I believe in you, Troy. You’re going to get us to that safe place. I know it.”

He turned to look at me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw something in his eyes—something like faith, something like determination. He nodded, his jaw set.

“We’ll get there,” he promised. “We’ll get everyone to safety.”

Peter walked in just as Troy finished speaking, giving him a small nod. “Troy, we need you,” he said, his voice tense but calm.

Troy glanced at me, his expression slipping back into leader mode, the weariness of the moment hidden behind the mask he wore so well. He straightened up, giving me a small, knowing smile before he turned to leave.

I quickly stopped him, grabbing the small dessert the kitchen crew had made earlier. “Here,” I said, holding it out to him. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

Troy looked down at the dessert in surprise, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking it from my hand.

I smiled back, watching him go as he followed Peter out. Once they were gone, I let out a long breath and turned to head back to the med bay. Tracy needed to be checked on, and I wanted to make sure her breathing hadn’t worsened while I’d been away.

——————————————

@aldenenjoyer

[pastelraccoons]

Sulemio Week 2024 Day 4: Fantasy

(If you'd rather read this on AO3, you can do so here!)

The kingdom of Benerit had been the ruling power over the land of Asticassia for as long as Miorine could remember. Her father, King Delling, wanted his kingdom to continue to be prosperous even after his death. And so his plan had been put into action: if any could defeat his daughter's royal knight, they could marry her.

Miorine, on the other hand, despised this system he put into place. Not only because it took away her own autonomy, but she also disliked the possibility of losing her loyal retainer, Suletta. Especially since her father didn't know her true feelings.

Suletta stood tall and proud at her side. The light from the sunset that poured through the castle's stained glass windows splashed a kaleidoscope of color over her pure white armor. Intricate gold details framed each metal plate. A longsword in a leather sheath bumped against her leg when she shifted, and a heater shield bearing Miorine's crest was attached to her forearm.

Miorine straightened her posture in her throne next to Delling. The overly complicated dress she wore made her uncomfortable in her seat, but she grit her teeth and beared it. Any minute now the latest challenger would arrive, so she had to stay.

Eventually, the doors to the throne room opened to reveal the challenger. He marched into the room until he was roughly halfway in. He stopped and bowed his head down low to the king. After the formalities were out of the way, he straightened his back and puffed out his chest. Confidence dripped off him when he smiled.

“I am Guel Jeturk, and I've come to take Miorine's hand!” He reached out towards Miorine as he spoke. His bright red armor clanked together from the action. The only other thing of note was the spear he carried on his back.

Miorine took in a deep breath through her nose. She fought down the want to sigh when she raised her hand.

“Suletta?” She called.

Without a word, Suletta moved from her side to kneel in front of her instead. Miorine reached down to tuck a loose strand of her striking red hair back behind her ear. She smiled gently and let her fingertips linger along the shell of her ear.

“I believe in you,” she whispered between them low enough so only they could hear it.

Suletta returned her smile with a slight nod before standing up. She turned around from Miorine and walked towards Guel until she was in the middle of the large room as well. In a single, smooth motion, she unsheathed her sword and pointed it directly at Guel. He responded in kind by drawing his spear. 

Without turning around, Suletta addressed the king.

“Do I have permission to begin, my lord?”

“You may begin,” he replied in a deep voice that somehow managed to fill the entire room.

With that, the air became stifling and serious. Suletta wrapped both of her hands around the hilt of her sword in preparation for an attack. Soon enough, Guel charged with a booming cry.

Suletta stayed unflinching until he was upon her. With one flowing strike, she deflected his spear harmlessly off to the side. Guel sneered and went in with another strike with the back end of his weapon.

The force of it hitting Suletta's side made her stumble a few steps back. Guel didn't let up the pressure as he went for another charge. She took the flat edge of her sword and smacked his spear down towards the floor. Instead of stopping him like she hoped, he continued pushing forward to slam his shoulder into her abdomen.

Miorine gripped the armrests of the throne and fought the urge to jump to her feet. Suletta seemed fine, though, as she dug her heels in.

The sound of her metallic boots scraping against the stone floor flooded the room. She finally gained purchase, crouched down, and pushed back against Guel with a grunt.

A clang rang out when she managed to break him away from her. Suletta's eyes shone with determination when she swung her sword down at him.

Guel reflexively brought his spear up to block the attack. However, instead of stopping it, her blade cut through the wooden shaft.  He stumbled back from the force and tripped, falling onto his back.

Suletta planted a foot on either side of his legs. She pointed the end of her sword just beneath his chin. A flash of panic passed through his eyes. They both stayed completely still until Delling spoke.

“Enough.” He pushed off his throne so he could stand. He locked his hands behind his back then turned to the side. “The victor is Suletta Mercury. You may return to your home kingdom, Guel Jeturk.”

With that, Delling walked away and disappeared into the nearby corridor followed by his advisor. Miorine let out a relieved sigh and slumped down slightly in her seat once he vanished. She soon stood to approach the two knights.

Suletta sheathed her sword, stepped back from Guel, and then offered him a hand. He frowned up at her but accepted the gesture nonetheless. He pulled himself up with a clatter.

“You fought well,” he said past the frown. He gathered the pieces of his spear and managed to secure them to his back like before. “I can see why no one has been able to take her hand yet.”

Suletta pressed a hand to her chest and bowed.

“Thank you, Lord Guel. I try to protect Princess Miorine with everything I have.”

Guel’s frown finally broke with a chuckle. He turned his head towards Miorine, who finally joined them. He gestured towards Suletta while addressing her.

“And I see why you chose her as your retainer.” Another chuckle shook his shoulders. The sound broke when he let out a sigh. “But I know when I've been beaten. Make sure you take care of your princess.”

Guel gave them one final bow, then turned on his heel to finally leave the throne room. Once the doors slammed shut, Miorine finally let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in. She looked up at Suletta with a tired smile.

“Would you take a walk with me? The courtyard garden should have some beautiful flowers blooming.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Suletta gave her a large grin and offered her arm to Miorine.

Miorine slipped her arm through and laid her hand on Suletta's forearm. The armor there had been warmed by her body heat, so she didn't flinch.

“Please, lead the way.”

Suletta nodded and then went towards the doors Guel had entered before. A grand staircase greeted them and led towards several different passages. She guided Miorine down the stairs and took the first right.

The hall had been covered with paintings of kings and queens passed. Armors were on display to break up the monotony. Several workers darted past them, carrying some cloth and a bucket of soapy water. They smiled at Miorine, who returned the gesture with a nod.

Eventually, they reached the end of the hall, where it opened up outside into an extravagant garden. Hedges boxed in several benches, chairs, and tables that were surrounded by the splashes of color from the flowers.

Suletta made her way towards the bench with Miorine. She took Miorine's hand and let her sit before joining her. As soon as Miorine made sure they were alone, she heaved a sigh rather unbecoming of royalty.

“I can't stand these duels anymore, Suletta,” Miorine lamented. She reached over to squeeze Suletta’s hand. “I don't want to lose you.”

Suletta took in a deep breath and leaned into the back of the bench. She stared up towards the sky that had been stained purple by the setting sun. She seemed to be deep in thought until she hummed after a couple of minutes.

“I can think of one way to get around it,” Suletta finally said. She lifted Miorine's hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Let's run away.”

Miorine's eyes widened at the suggestion. She had thought of that before, but never believed it would be possible. She leaned closer to Suletta.

“Are you sure? I know my father would send his men after me. And if he did, what would happen to you then?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take to be able to guarantee my place by your side.” Suletta's eyes bore into her. A seriousness Miorine wasn't used to seeing there told her everything she needed to know. “Is it a risk you'd take with me?”

Miorine's mouth went dry. Fear of being caught swirled in her head, but the idea of being free with the one she well and truly loved overpowered it. A burst of confidence made Miorine square away her shoulders.

“I would risk anything for you,” she declared.

Suletta placed a hand on Miorine's cheek. She leaned in but stopped short of giving her a kiss. A soft, disappointed huff slipped out of Miorine. Suletta only gave her a dry chuckle in return.

“We'll have time for that later. Think of it as a celebration for once we make it out of the city,” she whispered. “I need to prepare a few things. Will you meet me back here?”

“Of course I will.”

Suletta smiled, reluctantly pulled her hand back from Miorine's cheek, then stood up from the bench. She looked back over her shoulder for a brief moment then bolted out of the courtyard.

“Right,” Miorine said to herself. She jumped to her feet then bundled her dress in her hands. “I'll need to prepare myself.”

Her heels clicked and echoed back at her from the castle walls. It wasn't long before she burst into her bedroom. A checklist of what she would need filled her thoughts.

Miorine first went to her wardrobe. Inside were many elaborate dresses, but she pushed them aside to dig out the heavy cloak she would wear in the winter. Alongside that, she tried to find something more practical.

She finally found a rather plain dress that she could easily run in. She hurriedly changed out of the stifling dress she was in and pulled on the far more comfortable one.

Miorine tried to think of anything else that would help them. She grabbed a well worn leather bag she had since she was a child and undid the buckle. Her first thought was they would need money, so she gathered up anything she thought would be valuable.

Other than that, her mind drew a blank. She didn't want to risk potentially getting caught or missing Suletta. So instead she threw on her cloak and pulled the hood up enough to cast a shadow over her face. She slung her bag over her shoulder and held it close to her body.

Now that the sun had set and the castle seemed to have settled, she carefully opened her door to not make a sound. She caught a glimpse of a guard’s lantern coming down the hallway towards her. She cursed under her breath then darted down the hall towards the stairs.

He thankfully didn't seem to have seen her, so she relaxed once she hit the bottom of the stairs. Miorine rushed down the corridor towards the garden once again.

The orange light of a torch illuminated the courtyard. Instead of a guard, however, stood Suletta. She no longer wore her armor, but her familiar longsword still hung on her waist. Once she noticed, her pace quickened.

A smile spread across Suletta’s face before Miorine excitedly threw her arms around Suletta’s waist and gave her a tight squeeze. It wasn't until that moment did the butterflies hit.

I'm really doing this. I'll be able to live freely with Suletta.

Suletta’s expression softened and she ran her fingers through Miorine’s hair with her free hand.

“Come. We need to hurry before anyone notices we're gone.” Suletta unwound Miorine’s arms from her waist with a firm, yet gentle, tug. As she led them away, she placed the torch into an empty sconce on the castle wall.

Miorine held tightly onto Suletta's hand. It wasn't hard to leave the castle grounds, thanks to Suletta's knowledge of the guard patrols, but the city streets would be another story. Miorine wasn't sure what they would do then.

However, Suletta seemed to confidently lead them through narrow alleys and darkly lit streets. Miorine raised an eyebrow.

“Is this why you needed to prepare?” She asked. “You know these streets well.”

“Some of that, yes. But you forget I also used to live in the city before I met you,” Suletta laughed lightly. “But I needed travel supplies for us and to get my horse ready.”

Another turn and another alley. Sometimes Miorine forgot just how large the city was. Soon, the smell of hay and manure finally hit them. They soon arrived at the stables.

Suletta's familiar white horse stood ready and bright-eyed. Its saddle had been strapped to it already, and saddlebags filled to the brim with supplies sagged on either side.

Without warning, Suletta placed her hands on Miorine's waist and lifted her up. She placed her atop her horse with little effort. Suletta slipped her boot into the stirrup and pulled herself up but not fully into the saddle.

She leaned in close to Miorine's face. Her eyes sparkled with a strange mix of excitement and anxiety.

“I think now is a great time for that celebration.”

Miorine smiled warmly. The finish line was right in front of them, so she figured a premature celebration was in order.

She cupped Suletta's face in her hands and finally got the kiss she had ached for since the duel. Warmth flooded her chest and filled her to the brim with love. She soaked in the moment until Suletta broke it off with a dreamy sigh.

Suletta pulled herself up into the saddle. Miorine wrapped her arms tightly around Suletta’s waist. She laid her head against her back and waited for the snap of the reins.

Suletta let out a cry and cracked the reins in her hands. Her horse reared with a neigh before taking off down the empty cobblestone streets.

Miorine lifted her head to look back at the castle that quickly grew smaller and smaller. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders that only grew lighter the more distant it became.

She was finally free. Free to live how she pleased with the woman she loved.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #10: Carbuncle Quality

Prompt: stable || Master Post || On AO3

--

Fifteen rubies.

Fifteen proofs of concept, if they each summoned a fire-aspected carbuncle.

Synnove fought down the urge to pick at her fingernails as if she was sixteen all over again.

Thubyrgeim and Takeke Take, the chair of the aetherophysics department, were currently examining each ruby with a jeweler’s loupe, looking for any flaws that would affect the carbuncles’ magic. Most flaws were harmless, worked into the framing arrays, and Synnove had done checks herself, but a key tenant of arcanima was never to assume anything. A second or third pair of eyes was always a good idea.

One by one, they examined each ruby. One by one, they set them back down in the tray, making notes on clipboards.

Beside her, Mhaslona was sprawled inelegantly, her prosthetic leg propped up on a chair, seemingly at ease. Synnove saw the way she stretched out her hands, though, gently cracking her knuckles in sequence.

And then it was time to summon each carbuncle.

Synnove had not done this check herself; as these were both proofs of concept of artificial aether infusion and intended to be student carbuncles, the requirement had been she not twine any of her own aether into the gems, lest she potentially contaminate the arrays with subconscious intent for success. Thubyrgeim and Takeke had the necessary experience to prevent that.

(The ideal would have been to have a student summon each carbuncle, one who wasn’t as experienced as any of them, but that presented the problem of student inexperience potentially overloading the rubies if they weren’t in fact suitable for summoning.)

Thubyrgeim summoned the first carbuncle, drawing the key array in the air with her stylus. Aether chimed brightly, and Synnove tasted ash briefly on her tongue—

--and then a ruby carbuncle tumbled out of the air, primly landing at Thubyrgeim’s feet.

Mhaslona pumped her fist. Synnove bit down, hard, on her lower lip, to keep from squealing.

The carbuncle was summarily dismissed, and the guildmistress and head of aetherophysics continued. One by one, ruby carbuncles twirled into existence, noses twitching and tails fluttering.

The sixth ruby, however, failed to manifest. Thubyrgeim frowned thoughtfully, handing it off to Takeke, The lalafell hummed, taking out her loupe to give it another examination. After a few minutes, she put the loupe away and took out her summoning stylus, but she, too, was unable to get a carbuncle to manifest.

Synnove’s shoulders slumped. The chances of each one being successful were low, but still…

After a bell of work, each ruby had been tested: eleven successes, four failures.

Thubyrgeim lost her stern guildmistress’s façade, a smiling blooming across her face. “Now that, I believe, is a quite acceptable result. I would like you to run a few more experiments to see if we can replicate the ratio of passes to fails, but so far I believe we’re on track to adopting artificial aether infusion to address our growing needed for carbuncle foci.”

Synnove whooped, unable to contain herself, as Mhaslona pounded her back in congratulations. “Thank you, Guildmistress!”

“Thank you, Synnove. You’ve been working on this project for years now, and it’s delightful to see the fruits of your research.”

Synnove beamed.

[smiley-star]

Overwhelmed

OH MY GOSH CLASSES ARE MURDERING ME.

I got more stuff on the way, I promise!!!!

This was supposed to be a comic, but I'd rather not fail my classes ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

For the incredible: @xavitron883

Teddy Bear duo! :3

There's going to be a part 2!! I HAVE to write more of this duo, they're so wholesome!! 🥺ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

I got another short story on the way soon!!

The city was loud.

Loud-loud.

Extremely loud.

Casey shuddered as someone shoved past him, nearly making him trip.

Everything was different.

Now, it was a good different! They'd saved the world! They defeated the Krang!

But…

There wasn't that sense of unity.

People didn't care for people that way. They didn't need to.

Seeing another person alive wasn't some great news.

Helping someone up wouldn't help in life or death.

Shoving past someone wasn't a big deal.

Well, not to them at least.

Casey rubbed his aching shoulder, muttering under his breath as he walked. He remembered getting shoved to the floor once and his Mom nearly jumping the child that had accidentally done it.

Mom.

His eyes stung a bit at the mere reminder.

Mom.

Dad.

Uncle Raph.

Uncle Donnie.

Uncle Mikey.

Grandpa Draxum.

Grandpa Splinter.

Gone.

All gone.

He choked down a sob. His head hurt. Everything seemed too bright. The lights reflecting off the parked carts, the bright, flashing ads playing on the sides of buildings.

They all seemed to be stabbing into his eyes, making his head pulse as he fought the urge to cry.

Cars honking. The squealing of tires. Slamming of breaks. Yells. Music. Coughing. Talking.

Casey heaved a breath, turning and sprinting down an alleyway. He gasped, heart pounding and head spinning as it ached and his heart- oh gosh. Stop beating so fast!

It didn't seem inclined to listen, as his heart pounded faster while his breath came in quick gasps.

Panic attack.

He'd had many before and seen even more.

He heaved, gasping as he wrapped his arms around his trembling frame.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

The grief threatened to choke him along with the overwhelming sounds and sights.

His ears roared with a rushing sound, his heart pounded so much he worried it'd break from his chest.

“Casey?”

Casey jumped, turning to squint through blurry eyes at the large form standing at the entrance of the alleyway.

“Raph?” He croaked out, the sound of his own voice grating to his overstimulated hearing.

“Woah- you're not looking too good, bud,” Raph said gently, walking over and sitting down beside him, “You able to talk?”

Casey shook his head, sending it spinning worse and making him whimper.

“That's okay,” Raph said in a calming voice, putting his hand on his shoulder, “We can breathe.”

Raph began exaggeratedly inhaling and exhaling, making it so Casey was eventually able to catch on.

His heart slowed a bit, his breathing evened out, but his head was still aching.

“You're okay,” Raph said softly, “Raph gets overwhelmed sometimes too. Especially in my bad eye.”

Casey leaned his head against his arm.

It was so familiar. And it hurt yet was so calming all the same.

“Here,” Raph said, and Casey felt something soft get placed in his hand.

He looked down in confusion, seeing a stuffed bear resting in his arms.

He'd been given a bear by his uncle when he was little. It was well-loved and worn down, but he'd kept it. If he been able to go back, well, forward, he'd find it on his bed in the base still.

“Thank you,” Casey managed, a few years starting to fall down his face.

“It's alright,” Raph promised, tugging him into a side hug, “Raph's right here. He's not going anywhere.”

And as Casey leaned into the hug and let out his grief, he felt a lot less alone.

And while he couldn't see the massive, red-glowing figure next to him, it was as if he could feel his presence.

When I get some free time, I'm gonna make a drawing for this fic!! :3

All ideas and inspo to this fic goes to @xavitron883

They give so many INCREDIBLE ideas!! I just write them!! XD 💙⭐💙⭐💙⭐

[ladylilithprime]

Day 17: Wings

(Follows Day 7, wherein Chekhov's Lube from Day 6 makes its return appearance.)

THE POWER COMING back on roused Sam from his comfortable doze beneath his angel blanket, the lights and television coming to life again nearly blinding after the comfortable dimness of the electric candle. He groaned and attempted to bury his face in the sweep of soft dark feathers before his brain had quite caught up with him and he dropped his head back into the pillows with an embarrassed and apologetic flush. Above him, Castiel slowly let out the breath he had quickly indrawn at the nuzzle to his left wing and favored Sam with a soft smile.

"If you will let me up for just a moment, I will turn the lights back off," he offered, then added in gently teasing answer to the question Sam couldn't make himself ask aloud, "And I will come right back."

"Should probably turn off the TV, too," Sam mumbled, wincing. The previously pleasantly quiet documentary on birds had, in the intervening hours of the power outage, switched over to a much more high energy presentation on monster truck rallies, with flashing lights and the revving of suped up engines.

He reluctantly opened his arms (and hands) to release the angel, unable to resist letting his eyes drop to take in Castiel's naked form as he sat up. He tried to keep his eyes from straying too far, but it was practically impossible. Castiel was completely without shame in his nakedness-- and the angel certainly had nothing to be ashamed about! Even aside from the solidly built and decently maintained physical body that used to belong to Jimmy Novak, Castiel made no move to return his wings to whatever plane he kept them on most of the time.

They weren't actually black, Sam noticed helplessly. While the feathers along the upper parts of the wings were dark, and very dark close to the base, the color was a lot closer to purple or indigo and shading down into brighter shades of amethyst, cobalt, even flashes of emerald and tiny flecks of silver near the tips of each feather. There were other marks, patches where the feather growth was uneven hinting at past injuries and slow regeneration, but those places couldn't detract at all from the majestic beauty of them. Or their size. Even though he was obviously keeping them manifested for Sam's viewing, at least if that heated sideways look was any indication, Castiel still kept them partially folded, out of what Sam guessed to be spacial considerration for the dimensions of the motel room, lifting or drawing them in to avoid knocking into furniture.

The television was switched off, dropping the room back into comfortable silence, and then Castiel was crossing to the light switch by the door and incidentally presenting Sam with an unobstructed view of his wings perfectly framing the length of his spine and the muscled curves of his ass. Sam's dick twitched with interest, reminding him of his own naked state. Heat rushed through him, embarrassment as much as arousal, and he fought the urge to pull his legs up to hiding his rapidly returning erection.

The lights went out, shrouding Castiel from view as Sam's eyes struggled to adjust yet again to the change in light levels, and he lowered his eyes to blink at his own hand tangled in the sheets. Just for a moment. Just to readjust, to catch his breath....

"Sam," Castiel murmured from somewhere near the foot of the bed. "Are you feeling discomfort? Do you need some space?"

Who besides Castiel had ever been so concerned with and conscientious of Sam's comfort? But no, Sam didn't need space right now, nor did he particularly want it. He shook his head and took a deep breath before making himself look up again and meet Castiel's eyes. "I'm okay, Cas, promise. Just... a little in awe?"

His eyes flicked inbidden to Castiel's left wing, eyes homing in unerringly to the spot where he had pressed his face into the feathers earlier, able to see the disarray in the way they rested despite the dim lighting. Castiel's eyes followed Sam's, and his face took on an odd look. Sam thought it might have been consternation, except it seemed almost... fond. There was definitely affection in his expression when Castiel turned his attention fully back to Sam, and the heat of returning arousal as his eyes visibly took in the sight of Sam sitting naked on the bed with a half-hard dick.

"I am glad that you find me to be visually pleasing," Castiel murmured. Sam thought maybe there was a very subtle emphasis on the word "me", like he knew it was his wings, the only physically manifested part of his true form, and not just his vessel that Sam found attractive. And then Sam felt his brain short-circuit and his dick make a valiant attempt to jump to full hardness as Castiel spread and lifted his wings much wider and higher, practically putting them on display, and knelt on the end of the bed before crawling back up the length of it. "I enjoy having your eyes on me, Sam... and I would very much enjoy having your hands on me as well."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek as his dick practically throbbed at that invitation, his hands suddenly all but itching to reach out and touch, stroke, bury themselves in those soft and vibrant feathers to see what sorts of noises and reactions he could draw from his angel. He sat up more fully, drawing his legs up until he sat cross-legged on the bed and could reach out a hand to Castiel. It connected with the angel's shoulder, slid up the curve of his neck to cradle his jaw, and drew him closer into a careful almost questioning kiss. That unspoken question was quickly answered as Castiel settled himself in Sam's lap, his own renewed erection rubbing teasingly against Sam's in mimicry of their earlier actions, and then both of Sam's hands were sliding around the human body and up into the angel's wings.

Castiel moaned, low and deep and with an undercurrent of something like deeply tolling bells, and he pressed closer into Sam even as his wings opened further to expose the innermost parts of their structure and the soft, almost downy feathers there to Sam's shaking, trembling hands. His fingers carded through the feathers, combing and smoothing them, drawing gasps and moans and sighs from his angel. Sam lost himself a little in the experience, drinking in every sound that fell from Castiel's lips as his own pressed soft, reverent kisses along the line of Castiel's throat. Clutch, release, comb, stroke, over and over to every sensitive part of those glorious wings he could reach, until he felt Castiel shift and fumble around in the sheets.

A moment later, the sound of Castiel's moan was cut off by a triumphant huff and the unmistakable click of the cap on the lube being flicked open. "Cas--"

"I will not require further preparation," Castiel assured him, and Sam was astonished and a little gratified by how breathlessly wrecked the angel sounded. "We will still require the lubricant to ease the way."

"No, yeah, I... I get that," Sam gasped as one of Castiel's hands closed around his dick, already slick with lube. "I just... I thought you'd...."

"I can use my grace to clean myself within," Castiel reminded Sam, sounding a little more steady now that Sam's hands had been distracted. He twitched his fingers in Castiel's feathers, and was rewarded with another gasp. "No-ot... something that I would try with you, without-- aah! Discussing it beforehand...!"

Which was fair enough, and also incredibly sweet and considerate, and Sam would absolutely be sure to appreciate Castiel's thoughtfulness and efforts on Sam's behalf when he wasn't about to practically come out of his skin from the desire to get inside Castiel as deep as he could go. Castiel's throaty groan edged in bells and rumbling thunder told him the angel was probably just as eager. The speed with which he lifted himself up and canted his hips to position the tip of Sam's dick at his entrance confirmed it. Sam managed to pry one hand away from his angel's wings to drop to his hip and help guide him down as he slowly impaled himself on Sam's erection, going inexorably lower and lower, swallowing Sam up in tight, fluttering heat that tingled with the feel of grace beneath the angel's skin, until their hips met and Castiel made a sound that very nearly sounded like a sob.

"Sam!" he gasped, groaned as the sound of his name in that tone made Sam's hips jerk upwards in an involuntary thrust. "Sam... O'el mao'nao'na'es... o'el ca'aelza... za'aca'arae...!"

The words, halfway to growling and yet still somehow sounding like song, resonated within Sam, rattling at the edges of places inside him that still ached from a time trapped between ice that burned and fire that froze. Castiel's voice thrummed against that space, tugging bits and pieces free, and setting Sam to shaking, his hips jerking upwaards sharply in reaction to the entreaty that felt like a command. Castiel cried out, human hands gripping his shoulders as strong wings flexed and shuddered, urging Sam to do it again, and again.

"Cas... Castiel... na'onacape o'el o'ecara'ima'i...!" Sam managed to gasp out before the effort of speaking became too much and he could only moan and grunt in time with Castiel's whines and keening cries.

Their position didn't allow Sam to move much beyond rolling his hips into shallow thrusts, but Castiel made up for the limitation by bracing himself with his hands on Sam's shoulders and getting his knees under him enough to flex his thighs, lifting up barely an inch or two before quickly dropping back down again as if he couldn't bear to separate from Sam even for the friction and slide that drove their combined pleasure higher and higher. Sam could feel his second orgasm of the night building in his gut like an ever tightening spring, and he pressed his bosy closer to Castiel's, hoping to give the angel's own erection some reciprocal attention--

It broke over him in a wave, Castiel's orgasm accompanied by a shout and a flare of grace that rattled the windows even as his body clamped down hard around Sam. He managed two more short thrusts before falling over the edge into his own orgasm, his mouth pressed over Castiel's neck to muffle his cries. Castiel shuddered in his arms and groaned as Sam's teeth grazed the flesh of his neck just above where he could feel the flutter of a pulse against his lip, the sign of a heartbeat racing from exhertion--

They collapsed to the bed, Sam falling back onto the mattress and pulling an all too eagerly pliant Castiel with him, still buried in the angel's body and feeling his weight pressing him into the bed with every gasping breath. Lips found skin, tasted salt from sweat amid soft kisses as the two of them slowly came back down, calmed, settled, basked in the lingering feelings of pleasure and unity brought about by their tryst. It was the safest and most satiated Sam had felt in a very, very long time, and he could only hope that Castiel had gotten something close to the same pleasure from him.

"O'el ba'oa'eluaha'e ieles," Castiel whispered, close to Sam's ear, fingers stroking through sweat-slicked hair with a tenderness that was almost discordant with the passion bare minutes before. Sam paused. Swallowed.

"I don't know what that means," he confessed, no louder than a whisper himself. He bit his cheek against a whimper of protest as Castiel drew back from him far enough that his softened dick slipped out of that previously welcoming warmth. He swallowed again as he peered up through the fall of his hair, fearing reprisal, but the angel only gave him a soft, sad little smile.

"I know, beloved," he murmured, a wealth of regret in his eyes before he closed them with a sigh and touched his forehead to Sam's in an almost painfully tender gesture. "I will teach you their meaning, and the meanings of all the other words my foolish older brothers neglected or forgot in their stupidity and cruelty. Like ma'oza for 'joy', or sa'aelma'ana for--"

"Home," Sam murmured, daring to resthis hand on Castiel's shoulder and draw the angel back to curl against his side. His eyelids felt so heavy despite his earlier nap. "I know that one.... sa'aelma'ana va o'el mao'nao'na'es...."

"You are the home of my heart, too, Sam Winchester," he heard Castiel murmur softly. Lips brushed across his forehead, preceding the soft, warm wash of Castiel's grace over him, cleaning them both once more. The sheets were tugged out from beneath them and then settled over their legs, followed by Castiel's wings. "Sleep now. I will watch over you."

And Sam believed he would.

- Enochian Translation -

"Sam... o'el mao'nao'na'es... o'el ca'aelza... za'aca'arae...!" = "Sam... my heart... my firmament... move...!"

"Cas... Castiel... na'onacape o'el o'ecara'ima'i...!" = "Cas... Castiel... to you I sing praises...!"

"O'el ba'oa'eluaha'e ieles," = "I love/adore thee/you [above all others],"

[shining-scion]

Alright, here it is.

“I want to be there, when you first transform.” The specter of the Shadow Queen muses, a rippling dark figure cradling her staff almost fondly as she stares down at the figure bundled in a burrower cloak. In the shadow of the eclipse tower, sheltered against pouring rain, was the young wizard— magic new and foreign to them sparking inside of their soul, coursing like waves as it surged and fought to settle, to assimilate. They felt none of this, and pointedly ignored the shade of the woman haunting them. “Ah, what did she tell you, little wizard? Was it the only way to defeat me?”

The woman’s voice is sickly high, now, and the freshly made shadowmancer stiffens, fighting to express no reaction of fear or discomfort to the mocking tone. “She’s lying to you. There is no way to defeat me. Though, to her credit, perhaps you almost have a fair shot, now… such is why I’d like to see the moment you really learn what you’ve done to your magic. The shrike that emerges from that despair will be glorious. I almost hope you survive long enough to truly face me.” They glance up, then— eyes darting to the Spider Queen’s unsteady illusion of a face in fearful suspicion. They know she only wishes to get inside their head, but memory betrays them. This was nothing like the man they had tragically fought in Dragonspyre. Never once had that conflict felt personal. “Oh, is it just the light, or have the shadows already begun to affect your eyes? Weren’t they a little brighter last I saw you?” They flinch, fingers trailing to their eyes as they glance around, sitting up straighter now as they try to find a reflective surface. “Would you like a mirror, little wizard?” Something clatters in front of them. They jolt once at the noise, staring down at the sudden dark framed hand mirror laying on the ground, jagged edges looking almost dangerous. The specter stands in front of them still, and to grab the mirror they’re forced to inch closer to the illusion, drawing back quickly once the object is in hand. “I do hope you remember what you looked like before the ritual. You’ve been here for how long, now? A few weeks? A month? A year?”   “I… only two weeks. I’m counting. You can’t trick me on that.” They reply, turning the mirror over in their hand before slowly tilting it towards their face. The Shadow Queen shrugs. “Well, it was worth a shot. The nights draw long in my web.” They make a point to show disinterest in her words, regarding their face instead, gaze deepening on their own eyes. They were a lilac, now and in the past— though the hue in the dark night of the current rain raises just enough doubt in their mind. Had their eyes changed? They had changed once, when mana flooded their soul for the first time and they acclimated to the lighter air and soaring skies of the Spiral. For it to change again would not surprise them, but it wouldn’t be welcome this time. They bring the mirror closer…

Only to jolt back as indistinct, flying swarms of bugs shoot out of the mirror— shadowy illusions like the queen herself, but enough to make them yell, enough to make them drop the mirror and slam their fist against the glass, cracking it. She cackles wickedly, haughty. “Fool girl! All reality is mine to control, and it will only get worse. Keeping the realm sane enough for you to navigate is a mercy I’ve extended to you.”

She turns away, then, regarding the rest of her domain with twisted pride. “I had hoped the fear of such a simple trick was enough of a trigger for your shadows to react, but it seems you hold yourself well. A good first step for you.”

Her form grows wispy, fading with a sudden break of dawn against the pouring rain. “I do hope our battle is well. We wouldn’t want my victory to be too easy, would we? The glory would be underwhelming…”

As quickly as she appeared, the Shadow Queen vanishes, leaving the young wizard alone in an uncertain daybreak, a cracked mirror at their feet and a simmering urge to press on in their heart.

[divinexmight]

Home, sweet home

Wrote this fluffy little #BkDk fic for my precious friend, @Blu3Dragonfruit, who finished her exams a while ago and got ✨perfect✨ scores on all of them!! I’m so proud, yall 😭

CW:// Fluff, mostly SFW but implied NSFW, kissing

---

"--HA! I WIN!!" Izuku gasps, startled by his Kacchan's sudden bark. The screw he was lining up with the bedpost fumbles through his fingers and falls into the pile of other screws at his feet.

Sunlight floods the bedroom, bathing a pile of moving boxes, a half-assembled bed frame, and a now (victoriously) completed bookshelf in an aura of soft golden light.

A sigh falls from Izuku’s nose as his head drops forward; emerald curls dance as he shakes his head. He crouches, a small smile betrays his exasperation; annoyance and affection colliding in this delightful moment of domesticity. A moment they have both fought, both personally and professionally, to achieve.

Izuku knew full well what he was getting himself into when he fell in love with the hyper-competitive Pomeranian of a man.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it’s not a contest, Kacchan. We have one day to set up as much of this place as we can before we are busy for 6 days straight.” Izuku sighs with a hint of amusement; sifting his fingers through the carpet, scavenging for the fallen screw. 

His boyfriend scoffs, the smug triumph in his voice rich as chocolate and dripping with arrogance. “Bet ur ass it wasn’t..”

Izuku side-eyes his symbol of victory, standing tall, arms crossed over his chest that’s puffed out like a strutting peacock. A pompous grin adorns the blonde's supple lips and ruby red eyes strike a fiery orange under the sun's glow.

He really is a devilishly handsome man, a fierce Adonis made even more enchanting in the gentle light.

"-'cause you never stood a chance, Nerd." his Kacchan victorious laughter fills the small room. Izuku smashes his lips together, pushing away the sassy comeback that springs into his mind. Instead, he focuses his attention back onto the bed frame- though his features twist into a knowing smirk. 

Izuku didn’t use to be like this. 

Over time, his childhood best friend turned boyfriend’s behavior has upgraded from bullying to insufferable teasing. Before, Izuku would never think of retorting. He would just take it on the chin, knowing his Kacchan had the best intentions.

However, now that the beast has been domesticated, getting on his Kacchan’s bad side has gone from scary

-to exciting.

Every drawing of his Kacchan’s ire a dangerous little game. How bratty can he get before he catches those hot, explosive hands on his thighs, wrists

-around his neck.

Izuku teeters on the edge of danger, the taunt balanced on the tip of his tongue as his Kacchan cackles in the background. 

He knows he shouldn't say it.

Izuku has been slowly climbing the ladder since he defeated All for One and saved Shigaraki. After graduation, he was #1 hero within a matter of days. In the years following, his Kacchan has fought for the #2 spot with their dear friend, Shoto.

Shoto and Izuku stopped caring once they discovered the reality of hero culture and the Hero Public Safety Commission.

-but his Kacchan’s ambition remained unquenchable.

It's a sensitive subject with his Kacchan

-And a prompt way to get exploded.

And Izuku, with his mind buzzing and Kacchan's laughter ringing in his ears, was playing with the detonator.

The urge to knock his Kacchan down half a peg boils over; off the tip of his tongue and out his mouth-

“Guess if this whole being a hero thing doesn’t pan out, and you are perpetually stuck in me and Shoto’s shadows, Ka-cchan~*,” Izuku muses, sarcasm dripping from his words. “You can always fall back on being Japan’s number one IKEA furniture assembler.”

The laughter abruptly cuts off.

Ominous silence- other than the soft breeze drifting in through the window past slowly twirling curtains.

A foot falls towards him.

Izuku cannot help the amused, wry smile that creeps wide across his face. He doesn’t even need to look, his Kacchan’s quiet fury like a roaring furnace looming ever closer.

Another.

The air becomes thick with his Kacchan’s presence. The familiar pop and snap of Nitroglycerin igniting sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine- wait.

/ahh no! The bed!/

His Kacchan’s rage is undiscerning and widespread. The hapless wooden frame surely wouldn’t survive. 

Unless he wanted to sleep on a couch for the next week, Izuku needed to douse the approaching roaring furnace before it blew up in his face, literally.

"Ah hah, Kacchan~*! I'm so slow! S-since you /won/ and finished the bookshelf first, why don't you start putting our p-pictures and stuff up?!"

Yet another foot falls; the snap of sparks now tickling the shell of his ear- 

"-y-you know, because the s-sooner I get this bed up-! The sooner you can break it, and me~*, in, Kacchan..." Izuku holds his breath, waiting for the explosive reaction.

Instead, a low "mmm" from the blonde's throat confirms he'll forget the comment for now. His hand and intensity retreats towards the stack of moving boxes near the window.

Nothing pacifies the Murder God like the promise of playtime

-but he knows he’ll pay for that later.

The room lapses into silence as his Kacchan looks through framed newspaper clippings, advertisements, and various hero achievements. As Izuku steps back to admire his handiwork on the bed frame, a pang of guilt gnaws at Izuku’s heart.

“I'm sorry, Kacchan” Izuku breaks the silence. “The hero comment..that was..uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Without missing a beat, his Kacchan grumbles, “If you’re gonna talk shit, /Deku/, own it,” adding under his breath, “like I’m gonna own yur ass later”

Yea, he’s definitely paying for that later.

Izuku’s hearty laugh echoes through the room over his Kacchan’s quieter chuckle. Izuku finishes putting the sheets on the bed, playfully wiggling his shorts-clad thicc peach knowing full well his boyfriend’s delicious predatory gaze was still fixated on him. 

His Kacchan must be rubbing off on him. Izuku loves teasing his Kacchan. Loves capturing his gaze; holding his attention. He had no idea how good that hot carmine stare would feel over his flesh until they got together and he couldn't shake it.

The domineering voice that matches his favorite carmine stare interrupts the warm caress of Izuku’s thoughts. "This all that goes on this shelf?..We don't have any other pictures?" His Kacchan's brows furrow in confusion, a framed news article in his hand.

"Yea Kacchan, just that box." Izuku says without diverting his attention. Just the pillowcases and then he’ll be done with the bed. He's fluffing a pillow when he feels his Kacchan's presence behind him.

A powerful arm wraps around his midsection and snakes up his torso to his neck; a strong, but controlled, hot grip wrapping around his throat.

And in an instant, before he can even think

-his body surrenders on its own.

Izuku’s mind goes completely blank as his head lulls back into bulky shoulders. His eyes close to make his other senses sharper. 

A buttery, cinnamon sweet musk envelops his nose, reminding him of the safety and submission; pain and pleasure that come along with it. 

Izuku drapes his body along his Kacchan’s front, his back molding to fit his Kacchan’s adonis-like form. The saccharine promise of intoxicating, maddening, euphoric fullness.

Soft lips bury themselves into Izuku’s wild curls; his Kacchan’s gravelly voice whispering that familiar vow-

“I love you ‘Zuzu. Smile for me, Angel”

While Izuku called his Kacchan “Kacchan” almost exclusively, “Angel” was a name that Izuku only heard when they were alone. 

When it was safe. 

When his Kacchan felt safe to show a side of himself that only Izuku was privy to. 

A gentle, pure smile spread wide on Izuku’s face.

This is heaven. If they didn’t have an entire apartment to set up and only one day to do it, Izuku would probably already be on his knees for his Kacchan.

“I need to go out for something, ‘Zuzu. I’ll be back soon.” His Kacchan pulls back, releasing Izuku from his warm embrace and dropping his mind back into reality.

“Out? W-wait, where are you going?” Izuku blinks his eyes, trying to turn his brain all the way back on as he follows his Kacchan out the bedroom towards the front door.

“I won’t be long.” The blonde grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and slips on some loafers. 

“T-that’s not what I asked, Kacchan. How long is /long/?! And where-” Izuku doesn’t even get to finish before Kacchan is mostly through the front door.

“I said I’ll be back!” The door slams.

-and he’s gone.

An annoyed pout forms, scrunched up to one side of Izuku’s face- but quickly fades. Izuku cocks his head to one side and shrugs. He heads back to the bedroom. Might as well start on the nightstands.

His Kacchan knows how much they have left to do, so he’s sure whatever he ran out for must be important and quick. 

~*~

All For One better have resurrected. 

Godzilla better be real. 

The Earth /itself/ better be falling into a black hole.

In fact, all three of those scenarios better be happening simultaneously, or Katsuki is sleeping on the comfy new sectional couch for the foreseeable future.

The comfy new sectional that Izuku had to set up /by himself/.

Izuku sits on the edge of the now organized kitchen counter facing the front door. Legs crossed, arms crossed, and not amused in the slightest. 

By the first hour, Izuku had finished up the bedroom. Even organizing the closest, hanging all of their clothes up and folding the garments that needed to go in the dresser. He then got the bathroom all situated so their morning routine wouldn’t hit any snags. 

By the second hour, Izuku had tried to call Katsuki but noticed a ringing coming from the victorious bookshelf. Slightly annoyed, he moved into the livingroom to get the dining area and TV set up so they could watch a movie or something with dinner tonight. He saved the couch for last, since he thought Katsuki might have wanted  input on where it went.

Not that Izuku gave a crap about what Katsuki wanted at this point.

As he sat and stared a hole into the front door, Blackwhip took dishes and other kitchen items out of their boxes and put them away. It wasn’t that he needed Katsuki. Using his quirks, Izuku could do multiple tasks at once with ease. 

But this was a big step for them, moving in together. And they were supposed to do it together…

Izuku clicks his tongue, watching as the clock that /he/ put up /by himself/ chimes to signal the passing of another hour.

Three hours.

-and as if on queue, a key turns in the deadbolt of the front door. 

Katsuki startles seeing Izuku sitting right there as he stumbles and huffs into the entryway. Bags in the crooks of both elbows and chest heaving from running.

“Enjoy your day out, Kat-su-ki?” Izuku quips, his voice as cold as ice.

Katsuki stiffens and swallows at the sound of his government name rolling off Izuku’s tongue. 

“Izu, I didn’t mean to-- I brought din-” Katsuki starts to hold up the bag in his right arm.

Izuku cuts him off. "What? You didn't mean tooo..?? Leave me here all day to do- whatever!?”

Katsuki’s eyes scan the decorated and clean apartment. The blonde smiles timidly,“It looks great..”

Izuku’s fists and teeth clench. Bright red veins and gashes come to life and flicker in his flesh as green lighting snaps and whips around him. 

He takes a single step towards Katsuki; the blonde mouthing a curse as his back hits the wall behind him.

Emerald curls float before Izuku gets a hold of himself. 

/You love this man, Izuku. Maybe not right now- or tomorrow- or next week, but you love him. Don’t smash him./

Izuku breaths in and out; One For All subsides and his curls settle.

"Uh, w-what I meant to say was- it- I'm sorry. I should've been here and-" Katsuki's voice wobbles as he tries to rectify his poor choice of words.

"Na, don't worry about it. Here-" Izuku purrs. He gets out a plate, a bowl, and a cup and shoves them into his somber boyfriend's arms. "-/You/ can go enjoy that at the table that /I/ set up. /By myself/. I'm going to go take a shower in the bathroom I organized. /By myself/." 

Izuku spins on his heels and storms into their bedroom. "Feel free to watch TV tho, Kacchan. I set that up /by myself/ too!" He shouts while throwing his shorts and shirt off before stepping into the modest bathroom. 

He passes the sink area before stepping into the shower and tub area. 

A large tub sits to the right in the shower area under an obscure glass window; a potted plant adorning the window seal.

In front of him, a small stool sits in front of a ledge with some toiletries on either side. Katsuki's on and left, Izuku's on the right. A shower head hangs next to a wall mirror above the small ledge.

Izuku plops down on the stool. He props himself on his elbows and rakes his fingers through his hair.

He hates being mad.

Izuku is about to turn on the shower when he feels that heat again. That familiar presence.

Izuku floats up and turns towards the door. His displeased scowl a full head above repentant scarlet eyes.

"Ouuut" Izuku whispers, motioning towards the door Katsuki just walked through.

"Izu, I'm sorry- mmm, what can I do? How do I fix this?" Katsuki desperately tries to maintain eye contact- prompting a devilish smirk from Izuku.

He takes great pleasure knowing that the blonde, despite them being in the midst of a fight, is struggling to keep his eyes from drifting below Izuku's bare waist.

Izuku pretends to ponder Katsuki's question for a minute before snapping his fingers in a faux realization.

"There is one thing, Katsuki.." Izuku gets real close, their noses almost brushing. The blonde having to grab onto his pants to stop himself from pulling him closer makes Izuku giggle. "/You/ can try out that lovely sectional you choose, tonight." Izuku says.

"Oh my /God/, Izuku! Come on!" Katsuki groans. Exasperated, he rolls his eyes, turns on his heels, and accepts his fate.

"Don't worry, Katsuki. It's super comfortable! I would know. I took a break on it after I put it together. /By myself/." Izuku watches as the normally cocky and smug hero mopes out of the bathroom. 

As Izuku turns the shower on, he hears Katsuki putting something on the bookshelf. "Oh look who's helping." Izuku mutters. The scoff from their bedroom letting Izuku know his message was heard loud and clear.

~*~

  Izuku steps into their moonlit bedroom and drops his towel. He sulks at the neatly made, and completely empty, bed.

Katsuki should be in it with him..

"What was so da-, what was so important that he had to leave for three hours?!" Izuku plops down in the bed while mumbling to one in particular.

Seriously though, Katsuki knew how important this was to him. Izuku wanted their apartment to be a cozy place they could come home to and part of that is it not looking like a storage unit. 

While he got a lot of it done on his own and there honestly wasn't much left to do, they could have had it all done if Katsuki stayed. 

They also could have done it together..as a couple. 

Choosing how the living room is set up together, deciding which side of the closet they want, or talking about breakfast options for the next day while they organize their kitchen. All those little moments

-they mean something to him.

Izuku knows Katsuki probably doesn't care about them at all but..for him to just disregard his feelings..

Izuku throws his back; blinking his eyes and regulating his breathing. Trying desperately to hold back tears. 

Their relationship needs a lot of work.

A glint of red catches Izuku's eye from across the room. For a second, Izuku thinks Katsuki was standing there the whole time. 

But it's just a picture frame- placed prominently on the victorious bookshelf. 

Izuku puts on his bathrobe and walks over to the shelf. He's never bought a red picture frame…

Dead center on the middle shelf, an ornate ruby frame catches the pearlescent moonlight. It's flanked on both sides by Izuku's numerous old hero notebooks. 

And there, on the right, all together sharing a frame, Katsuki's bloodstained All Might card, Izuku's flawless one, and a picture of them hugging as children. 

Izuku looks down to the base of the bookshelf- all their framed newspaper clippings and agency photos still piled on top of one another in a box. 

/Why would he only put 3 things up?/

He picks up the unfamiliar red frame and examines it..! Verdant eyes go wide and start to well as realization washes over him.

Displayed behind the new glass was a photo of the couple. His Kacchan; eyes closed; face buried in his green curls while his strong, venous hand clasps around Izuku's throat. 

And Izuku, leaned back onto his Kacchan's shoulder. Lips parted in a soft smile. Nothing but blissful vulnerability on his face. 

"He was taking a picture..!" Izuku leans in close- an imprint of a kiss on the glass right above his face.

Lip trembling, Izuku rushes out of the bedroom and into the living room where his Kacchan is eating his Katsudon alone. 

Izuku, clutching the picture to his chest, stops halfway to his Kacchan, unsure of his mood.

"Kacchan?" Izuku sees his Kacchan's shoulders drop, head lulls back slightly, and air re-enter his lungs upon hearing his childhood nickname. 

Izuku notes never to stop using it again.

"Kacchan, did you take this today?" Izuku turns the phone around to show him.

"Yea." his Kacchan stuffs more Katsudon into his mouth. "You should come eat something."

Izuku joins him on the couch. He starts to reach for the bag of take out but his Kacchan beats him to it and places it in front of him. 

"It's so nice..I didn't know." Izuku takes a big mouthful of Katsudon, not realizing how hungry he was.

"I know." his Kacchan takes a napkin and wipes the rice from his freckled and full cheeks.

"Is thus wha u wen out today?" Izuku says through stuffed cheeks, unable to pull himself away from his food.

His Kacchan sighs. "Yea- and I'm- I should have- I-I just wanted a picture that wasn't a press release or a brand deal or a photoshoot! We didn't have one. You said you wanted a.."cozy home" and all that work shit ain't cozy so I took one. Have to see that shit all day out /there/." His Kacchan motions out the window to the bright, bustling city. "Here, it should just be you. Us. No heroes. No villains, no agency…and it took longer than I thought..and it could 'ave waited till ta'morrow so,..sorry."

Izuku sets the picture and his empty takeout dish down and throws his arms around his Kacchan, burying his tear-dampened face into the crook of the blonde's neck.

"I'm so sorry Kacchan! Im so stupid!" Izuku sobs.

His Kacchan separates them and holds Izuku's face in his hands, confused- and amazed at how he took his mistake and turned it back on himself. "Izu-"

"I was so concerned about setting up the apartment and /my/ idea of a nice memory with you that I completely missed…our first non-work picture together..I would have gone with you, Kacchan! Why didn't you tell me?" 

"..I don't know.."

He knows. They both do.

Feelings and words have never been the blonde's strong suit.

"I should have…" Izuku leaps back around his Kacchan's neck, surprising his relieved boyfriend.

Izuku cringes into his Kacchan's shoulder, his prior behavior flashing through his mind. "I'm kind of a sassy brat when I'm mad huh?"

Strong arms flop Izuku back on the couch cushions; his curls framing his soft, round face. 

Two strong arms and carmine pools pin Izuku against the fabric sofa. His Kacchan lowers himself to his forearms; his soft lips brushing over Izuku's chapped ones. "Hah, I kinda like it." 

"What?!" Izuku Laughs. 

The blonde leans down low, humid breath filling the shell of Izuku's ear. "Makes me wanna tame you…" His Kacchan growls, angling his chin forward to plant a deep kiss on his lover.

Their lips caress in a passionate embrace. Lips part; soft gasps escaping their entangled mouths. Tongues dancing, deepening the tender kiss. Each moan and nibble an apology given or accepted.

But then, with a hypnotic allure, his Kacchan slowly withdraws, teasingly sucking on Izuku's top lip, a velvet caress that stirs a heat low and deep in Izuku's groin. Their connection preserved by a sloppy string of desire as they part.

Scarlet and emerald lock, sparkling with a mix of intensity and vulnerability, silently conveying a craving that words can never fully express.

In that moment, they exist in a realm of shared secrets, where the world fades away and only their connection remains—a connection fueled by the heady blend of trust and longing, forever binding their hearts.

Home.

"Wanna go to bed?" Izuku purrs.

His Kacchan cocks his head and an eyebrow, "I don't know, Angel. This couch is pretty comfortable and-" his Kacchan leans in close, planting kisses and nipples on Izuku's jaw; eliciting giggles from him. "-it was picked out by /the/ #1 IKEA furniture assembler in /all/ of Japan."

Izuku giggles; arching his back and running his fingers through blonde spikes that are trailing kisses lower and lower down his chest. 

As his Kacchan's lips linger around the waist they weren't allowed to touch earlier, Izuku gazes upon the photo. 

A low moan slips past his lips when his Kacchan reaches more sensitive flesh. He can't believe he forgot that home isn't where it's cozy or even where their pictures are.

Home is wherever his loving blonde pomeranian is.

{The End}

Thank you so much for reading! I know it was a long one 😅 If you liked it, give me a follow over on Twitter @Divine_Might ! I post over there more offten! :D