#impetuous fire

[carcharsaur]

part of me wants to talk about my ancient ocs more but also it feels too self indulgent more than my normal ocs ?

[elisaenglish]

Here We Lie and Assorted Laws of Non-Contradiction

“Last year I abstained this year I devour without guilt which is also an art”

–Margaret Atwood, You Are Happy-

No girl dreams in synoptical agendas. Blue bears its own reciprocity to eyes. Down, and down to faithful adoration. Fucked signs its name—but forever never rhymes...

[nibeul]

ok. season 1 is drafted

hello Star Wars followers. would you be interested if I rewrote the bad batch again.

[chlorinecake]

❝ DON’T WAKE DAD ❞ — ✿ 𝐏.𝐒𝐇 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ .

── 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ܃ Sunghoon was your stepbrother, and ever since your two fractured families merged into one, he’s had feelings for you. Deep down, he knows the attraction is wrong, but the taboo of it all only made it more addicting to him…

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 ｡｡｡ KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, mentions of virginity loss, oral (m. r), masturbation (f. r), stepcest kink, cum eating, manhandling, face slapping, hair pulling, breath play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of 02z, reader is younger than sunghoon & has long hair, short parental argument, that’s all

𝐖ORD 𝐂OUNT ⨾ 4199 — 𓊆ྀི Day 10 𓊇ྀི

“She’s hot as fuck, I can’t help it…” Sunghoon sighed while readjusting himself in his seat just at the mere thought of you.

He and his two friends, Jake and Jay, were hanging out in your step-father’s backyard near the pool, helping themselves toa few cold drinks and some conversation while round about the outdoor table.

“Who fucking cares, dude?” Jake asked rhetorically, his Australian accent rugged and thick with utter confusion and disgust.

“Exactly bro… you’re playing with dangerous fire here, Hoon, and trust me when I say you don’t wanna mess with that step-sis shit…” Jay added, crossing his legs where where he sat.

“Why not, though?” Sunghoon challenged, pulling out his phone to swipe a few notifications clouding his screen.

“Well, for starters, screwing your step-sister in real life is a lot more tricky than how it’s shown in pornos… secondly, you two could be blood-related for all you know!” Jake pitched in, spreading his arms as if to convey increased importance.

“Please…. I highly doubt that…” Sunghoon scoffed, shaking his head at his friend's cautious protest.

“Right… and what makes you so sure then, huh..? You’ve taken any DNA tests lately?” Jay questioned matter-of-factly.

“Of course not, idiot, but that’s beside the point—”

“She might have the same dad as you!” Jake went on in a fit of concern.

“Not possible… my father had a vasectomy before I was even born, and my step-sister’s younger than me…”

“Then you all might have the same mom, it doesn’t matter! You never know with this type of stuff, dude—”

“Wait- Shhh…” Sunghoon whispered, just as a woman’s voice in the distance filled his ears until you eventually walked by.

“Hey, Hoon!” You chirped, paying a brief yet respectable wave to his friends as well, “Your dad’s been looking for you all afternoon, by the way…”

“Oh yeah? What’s up with him?” Sunghoon asked in between taking a sip from his soda can.

“He said something about you leaving the garage door unlocked last night?… I don’t know, maybe he just wants to talk to you about it…”

“God… I mean, okay, uh… thanks for letting me know, sis…”

“Mhm,” you hummed with a nod, right before turning on your heel and walking back from whence you came...

“Dad?” Jay repeated with confusion.

“Sis?” Jake added, just as confused.

“Yup… and we don’t look very similar now, do we?” Sunghoon offered with a proud smirk, taking the last sip of his cherry cola with a clenched jaw and sighing at the fizzy sensation.

“Fine, but what difference does it make when you live under the same roof and share a set of parents, biologically or not?” 

The space felt quiet at Jay’s sudden comment, with nothing other than chirping birds in the distance filling the void. 

“Look man, I gotta go now, but please, at the very least… consider… our advice,” Jay said in a more solemn tone before shuffling from his seat and standing up to walk away.

“Yea… I mean… I’ll consider it,” Sunghoon nodded nonchalantly while waving his friend off, but Jay didn’t see it as shady because that’s how Sunghoon always acted…

Numb, absent, impetuous.

It’s those precise qualities in him that initially earned your attraction, and they were the same qualities that eventually made you stick around…

1 hour later…

“It’s so pretty, Hoon…” you admired from beneath your step-brother, trailing an inquisitive finger along the underside of his cock as he nearly dug crescents into the palms of his hands from how tightly he balled his fists.

He was just so, so sensitive…

“Can I now?” You asked softly, eager to finally have his cock in your mouth and stretching your slutty little lips apart with his thickness…

And to no one’s shock, he was just as eager to have your mouth around him, too…

Of all the private time you’ve spent with Sunghoon, you two had tried almost everything in the books from dry humping, nipple sucking (on both sides), vaginal sex, cockwarming, and even mutual masturbation on some accounts…

Though, you had never tried giving him oral before, and it’s an act that’s been on your mental bucket list for quite a while now.

“Go on, angel,” Sunghoon groaned, watching intently as you began prepping him by stroking the base of his length, and he swears a hand has never felt so good around his cock before.

Your step-brother, being the handsome guy that he was, had his fair share of sexual experiences in the past…

However, once he met you, or more accurately, once y’all crossed that dangerous physical boundary, he fell in love with you in a way that would never be considered brotherly.

Simply put, you were the best at everything to him; making him feel better after a bad day, listening to his most profound thoughts when no one else would, etc etc.

And it helped that you were one of the most beautiful girls he had met, too…

The first time he had sex with you, he remembered gazing at your cunt first before sliding himself in, and he felt so bad for having to be the first one to stretch you out.

You were so tight and fragile and he was so thick and long that it took more than a few tries just to have sex properly…

But since then, you became his little fuck toy, and he simply dreaded the thought of some other guy getting to enjoy those parts of you one day…

The parts he worked so hard to cultivate in you… the parts that he felt should be for his eyes and his eyes only…

“Ohhh, God,” Sunghoon groaned suddenly, sealing his pretty brown eyes shut at the feeling of your lips sliding along the center of his shaft.

His tip, the most sensitive part of his cock, found utter bliss in the back of your tight throat, and his tense hips subconsciously bucked into your mouth, causing you to tap his thigh as a sign to slow down.

“Sorry,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear to prevent it from getting in the way, but you couldn’t help yourself from marveling at the way his length twitched inside your mouth, its tip already crying out precum as you kept bobbing your head nice and slow.

And it was genuinely such an honor to be sucking him off, considering how much he had done for you in the past… things that your parents never had to find out about because he was there to help you.

For instance, you vividly recall the time when a deadbeat date you met at a party dropped you off on the side of the road after you rejected his sexual advances, and Sunghoon was the only person who answered your call that night…

That same night marked the first night you kissed each other… in his car at a red light on your way home, to be precise… 

And you cried the rest of the drive back to the family mansion until Sunghoon managed to finally calm you down with a hug… one that led to him sleeping in your bed that night with his clothed cock slowly rutting against the curve of your ass…

You remember pretending like it didn’t happen for a while until eventually, the taboo craving was reciprocated in you; you wanted Sunghoon just as much as he always wanted you…

“Fuck, baby… ‘m so close,” your stepbrother groaned in pleasure, keeping his hands in your hair because it was genuinely one of his favorite parts about you, “Yea… keep drooling around my fat cock, baby… just like that… shit~”

You squeezed your thighs at Sunghoon’s desperate dirty talk, feeling yourself getting more and more turned on every time he swore beneath his breath.

“Go on, angel… touch yourself for me,” he mewled from above you, compelling you to do exactly what he just suggested.

Slipping your fingers past the waistband of your skirt, you found your core instantly given how you weren’t wearing any underwear.

You slid your digits over your folds while still sucking his dick before humming at the feeling of your aching clit finallygetting some attention.

“Didn’t know sucking my cock would turn you on so much,” he snickered through a smirk, only to groan once again as you hummed around his dick, reeling him even closer to climaxing.

With just a few more bobs of your head, Sunghoon was finally coming undone, screwing his thick eyebrows shut with his head thrown back.

His thumbs slowly outlined the side of your hairline as he looked back down at you with pure affection, slipping his cock out of you as cum coated every surface of your mouth—

“C’mere, princess,” he whispered in a raspy voice, finding your lips in the sweetest kiss as your tongues intertwined, all while you still stimulated your clit beneath your clothes…

And as if you weren’t feeling a bit lightheaded already, you definitely were now, feeling your hips spasm the more and more his tongue ran against yours.

Before you knew it, you were crying out Sunghoon’s name into his mouth and creaming all over your fingers.

“Shhh,” he cooed while holding your head in place with a gentle hand, backing away only once so he could see the look on your face as you finished.

It was such a beautiful sight to him, too… the way your eyes brimmed with tears as you bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet but failing nonetheless…

He loved every part of it—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Sunghoon, are you in there?” Your mom called out from behind the door, just mere feet away from you two.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s up?” Sunghoon asked as calmly as he could manage while you both worked on readjusting your clothes back.

“Your father’s ready to have dinner with everyone,” she continued, trying to listen in on what was happening on the other side of the door, only to have her ears filled with the sound of shuffling.

“Alright, I’ll be down in a minute,” Sunghoon answered, just as you stood up to kiss him again, desperate for more.

“Great… I’ll go and tell your sister to join us, too,” she said before finally walking away, and you smiled even deeper into the kiss as Sunghoon’s hands found your body, guiding your hips closer against him.

30 minutes later…

“Why’re you making such a big deal out of this, Dad?”

“Because you’re too irresponsible for your age,” your stepfather scolded at the dinner table, the awkward clinking of silver forks against glass plates filling the room.

“Just because I forgot to lock the garage back on one night?”

“One night is all it takes for someone to come in and rob us, son,” his dad argued in between chewing on a piece of steak,“if you ever want this property or anything in the family estate to be yours, you better start acting like it belongs to you already…”

“But I do, Dad… can’t you see that?” Sunghoon asked with frustration in between eating some rice from his plate, “I keep the pool clean, cut the lawn weekly, and help out with bills, what else do you want me to do?”

“Lock the garage door back at night. Let’s start there,” his dad said plainly, and Sunghoon simply scoffed at his words.

“Right… got it, sir, but I’ll be excusing myself now,” Sunghoon said while getting up from the table with his dad in unison.

“No, you sit back down and finish eating so you can help your mom and sister clean up… I’m going to my room…”

“Ugh,” your mother sighed, getting up from the table and following in the exact steps as Sunghoon’s father did, “Sorry to leave you guys hanging, but I think I’m gonna call it a night and just chill out with your dad…”

“Oh… yeah, that’s fine,” you and your stepbrother smiled softly while getting up to wash dishes, “have a good night…”

“You, too, guys,” she smiled softly with her hands clasped in front of her before eventually leaving.

In the meantime, you got started on loading the dishwasher and wiping the kitchen surfaces; Sunghoon helped by sweeping and taking out the trash.

Afterward, you and Sunghoon sat on the living room couch and talked for a bit, the sound of the dishwashing machine thrumming in the distance.

You remembered his friends kept giving you weird looks earlier, so you decided to ask Sunghoon what they were talking about as a conversation starter.

“Oh- nothing, really… they were just curious about who you were, is all…” Sunghoon answered plainly, gentle clicks coming from his fingers as he toggled with the TV remote, searching for something good to watch.

And you knew it shouldn’t have affected you so much, but you could almost feel his hands all over you again just from looking at them…

You could feel the way his fingers were cupping your face earlier, and the way his palm felt resting on the small of your back as he kissed you that evening—

“Wanna watch something scary?” He offered, interrupting your brief thoughts.

“Do we even have a choice?” You returned while glancing at the screen, shocked to see there were predominantly horror movies playing tonight.

“I swear, it's like people never get bored of having scary movie marathons,” Sunghoon shrugged before eventually turning the TV off.

Currently, you were both sitting opposite to each other on the couch, up until your stepbrother patted the empty space next to him, signaling for you to come closer.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and the warmth of his body radiating through the cotton sweater he wore made you sigh in comfort.

“What, you're getting sleepy already?” Sunghoon asked with a soft smile, not expecting you to have snuggled against him so suddenly.

“No,” you said, reaching for his pale hand before tracing the nail beds of his fingers with your own, “just wanna enjoy this gentle moment with you...”

“Oh... Seriously?”

“Mhm...” You hummed against him, making the smile on his face linger for a little longer, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yea, what is it?”

“Well... hypothetically speaking, if your dad left his bedroom door open all night, how much do you think we could get away with in here?…”

“____...”

“Relax, it's just a question,” you pouted, letting go of his hand and touching his tense thigh instead.

He gulped before answering.

“Okay then... hypothetically speaking... I know I could keep quiet during a lot of things, but you on the other hand...” his voice trailed off as he gave you a knowing look instead of finishing his sentence.

“What? Finish what you were gonna say, loser,” you chuckled, sitting up to look him in the face now, but judging from his cheeks alone, you could tell he was a bit flustered about something...

“Hey,” you spoke softly, moving your hand from his thigh and cupping his face instead, but it didn't stay there long before he was pushing you on your back, caging you beneath him on the sofa.

“I think it might be better if I just show you instead of telling you, hm?” He whispered, dangerously close to your face, and you felt your heart rate increase while caged beneath him…

Not because you were nervous, but because you knew your parents were likely still awake, and you’d hate to get caught in a position like this.

“S-Sunghoon, maybe not in here, okay?” You began with shaky breaths, trying to keep your voice as low as possible now,“It’s too risky…”

“Shhh,” he whispered again, right before leaning down to kiss you, and you hated how it was truly that easy for him to win your submission.

Sliding a hand over your breasts, he found your neck in his grip, gently but firmly.

Though, the pressure only increased from here, and it was enough to make you squeak.

“You’re seriously getting all noisy, and just from that?” He judged you with a snicker, “If you want me to fuck you, y’know you’re gonna have to stay quiet, pretty… think you can do that for me?… hm?”

You could only manage to whimper in response, and he finally freed your neck from his rough hand, at first you think it’sbecause he’s easing up on you, but then you realize that he was just getting started.

Sitting up, he tugs your pants down to your thighs, only to have you immediately pull them back up again.

“Do you really wanna force me to get rough with you tonight, baby?” Sunghoon slithered, cupping your entire cunt in his hand before grinding his palm against your clothed sex, and he almost laughed out loud at the way you squirmed now.

“I can’t believe you’re being this s-stupid right now,” you stammered, but you couldn’t stop your hips from subconsciously bucking against the delicious friction he provided.

“Look at you… rejecting my advances only to grind against my hand like a bitch in heat,” he retorted, spitting in his free palm before slapping you across the cheek, the added moisture only adding to the echo of the impact.

You wanted to curse him out, kick him, punch him, or even just yell at him for doing that to you… but someway, somehow, you felt your body freeze at his gaze, and tears erupted from your eyelash beds in the same way they did the first night he kissed you… the first night he claimed you as his…

“Now, you know I didn’t wanna have to do that, sweetie,” Sunghoon pouted with a hoarseness to his tone, and you immediately felt his erection brush up against your thigh.

“As my little sister, you’re supposed to obey me, no matter what I ask of you,” he continued tenderly now, wiping the tears from your face with the back of his hand.

Your cheek still stung from where he slapped you, and it only made matters worse when you heard shuffling from your parent's room.

“B-but… I am ob-beying you,” you sniffled, voice cracking slightly as he kissed your face right where he struck you.

“Good,” he smiles, ceasing his hand in groping your cunt, “So that means you’ll let me make you feel good and you’llkeep quiet then, right?”

“Y-yes, Sunghoon,” you nodded, feeling him kiss your lips one last time before freeing you of his daunting shadow, only to stand up from the couch and tug you in whatever position he pleased.

And he handled your body as if you were weightless, but you knew that had more to do with his strength training than anything.

Situating you on your knees on the floor of the couch, he knelt behind you, caressing your waist while pressing his front against your ass.

Keeping all your clothes on, the only thing he did was slide both of your bottoms down, and you don’t think you ever felt more eager than you did once the cool room air hit your aching cunt.

And that’s when your stepbrother started sliding his burning red cock between your folds, trying his hardest not to spank you as that would only make more noise.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, making a makeshift ponytail of your hair, but before you could even answer, he was already sliding inside you all the way now.

And because you and he had sex so many times in the past, it’s like your walls were carved just for him.

No matter the circumstance, Sunghoon could always count on you being ready to take him in every which way he desired…

So, when you put up a little fight today, he made sure to remember it as he started rutting into you, keeping one hand firmly at your hips while the other one secured your head.

“Ohh…. mmm… ahhh,” you hummed, keeping your eyes shut completely as the faint sound of skin against skin filled the room.

His cock felt so good inside you, just like it always did… given the position, your cunt was angled a little different than what you were used to, but it helped him to fuck even deeper into you anyway.

“Feels good, baby?… Yea?… You just love taking your step-brother’s fat cock in your tight cunt, don’t you… you dirty little- nghh,” Sunghoon groaned breathlessly from behind you, pulling your hair back further now as he roughly pounded into you again and again.

“Your ass is so perfect, too,” he slurred, and all the dirty talk was making your pussy throb even more, with his greedy cock loving the sensation as well.

“Fuck, Hoonie,” you whimpered quietly, arching your back a bit so he could fuck you even deeper, when suddenly, you felt his grip release from your hair, causing your face to meet the couch cushions.

You could conveniently bury your face into the, whenever you felt like making a noise, letting all your naughty little sounds dissipate into the cotton.

He was bucking his hips behind you so fast and hard though now that even the wooden floorboards were starting to creak…

“Nghh…. Oh my g… ahh… fuck, baby,” you whined into the couch, but being so lost in the pleasure, it didn’t seem like Sunghoon cared to keep quiet anymore either.

He was grunting all loud like a madman now, and if it wasn’t for the air conditioner drowning out the squelching noises of skin-to-skin, you’re certain your parents would’ve caught you like this…

Your hearts pounded in unison as Sunghoon's hands continued to roam over your soft, supple body, tracing the curves of her hips before grabbing hold of the swells of your breasts. 

You couldn't help but let out a stifled moan as squeezed you in his grip, filling you with an intensity that was almost too much to bear.

Biting down on your wrist, you tried your hardest to keep yourself from crying out, but it wasn’t long before you felt your walls tightening around him, Bo your collective breaths growing more ragged as you approached the brink. 

“S-Sunghoon, I’m getting close,” you gasped, feeling something in your stomach tighten the faster your stepbrotherfucked his throbbing cock into you.

“S-so am I,” he stammered as the initially deep tone of his voice started to sound more desperate and vulnerable.

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated on the pleasure your soaking wet hole provided him with, digging his nails into your hips to contain all the energy within himself until it finally happened; with a silent scream of pleasure, you shuddered around his cock, making him lean forward to cover your mouth and conceal your moans, causing you to whine into his hand.

Swearing beneath your breath, he felt it was safe to remove his hand from your mouth now as your body arched off of the couch, and Sunghoon’s orgasm followed closely behind.

Not wanting to finish inside you, he pulled out as quickly as he could, jerking his slimy cock with the same hand he just covered your mouth with before cumming all over your back, using it as a landscape for his ivory release.

Sunghoon then pulled your shirt back over to cover you, and if you weren’t so tired and fucked out, the feeling of his sticky cum smearing under the cotton of your clothes would’ve made you cringe.

The two of you just lay there for a moment, panting and trembling with slick sheens of sweat decorating every corner of your collective bodies.

With a satisfied sigh, you looked down the hallway, noticing that your parent's door was already closed and that perhaps,the two of you missed it earlier given all the excitement.

You were already starting to feel the aches in your body creep up on you given how rough Sunghoon was being, but that all melted away once his lips connected with yours, humming into a gentle kiss.

“Let me help you to bed, sissy,” he whispered, helping you get up from the ground now.

He offered to carry you, but you insisted that you could walk on your own.

A few steps later, you were eventually in your bedroom with Sunghoon’s delicate hands getting to work on removing your shirt and wiping down your back.

Sliding a nightgown over your head, he gave you one last kiss goodnight before sweeping off to his own room now… but something in you told you this wasn’t the last you’d see of him tonight…

It was on nights like this that you missed Sunghoon most; despite how you two had already shared such intense intimacy with each other, you still craved his presence, and of course, he felt the same.

As you forced your eyes shut to hopefully get some sleep in, you comforted yourself with the fact that you never heard the soft click of the door latch from Sunghoon’s bedroom, letting you know that it’d only be a few minutes before his footsteps would echo through the hallway as he’d slip into bed beside you.

✎𓂃 Thanks for reading DAY 10's fic entry for my 2024 Kinktober Event !! Sorry I’m a day late to posting this (I had to process some issues in one of my friendships), but nonetheless, if you're interested, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here !!

♱ PERM TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy (miss you), @wonbinisbabygurl @watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

♱ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs @mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij @yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess @zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier @idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408 @crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg @d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

[awritesthings1]

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

-

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

-

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

-

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

-

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

-

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

[zablife]

You're Gonna Be the Death of Me

Johnny Davis x female reader

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny knows you're trouble the moment you show up with Benny, but he can't help himself.

A/N: I've been writing so much for Benny recently, I haven't properly indulged in my Johnny fantasies. This is for @potter-solomons who shares my obsession 😍

Warnings: 18+ MDNI

"You're gonna be the death of me," that's what Johnny always said about you from the moment Benny started bringing you around. Those cute sundresses paired with an innocent smile indicated you were just a girl who didn't know the effect she had on men. However, the way you pursed your lips before blowing on the tip of your pool stick and that naughty wink cast in his direction said otherwise.

The first time you met, you leaned across the table in your low cut dress, twisting a lock of hair idly as you thanked him for inviting you to see his garage. He scratched the back of his neck wondering when he'd agreed to that, but you were too busy explaining how well you knew your way around tools. He had to laugh at your double entendre, refusing to believe anyone was that naive or that you actually knew anything about mechanics.

The next day he was pleasantly surprised when you proved him wrong, somehow reading his mind before he could call out which socket wrench he needed. "Would you look at that?" he chuckled at your cleverness.

"Don't underestimate me," you warned him with an alluring look. He knew better than that, especially when your delicate hand brushed his grease stained fingers to offer a cold beer. And especially later as you hummed along to the radio, the syrupy sweetness in your voice dripping into his ear while he worked.

The quiet afternoon had only been one side of the coin, however, as you quickly proved yourself to be wild and impetuous, demanding a thrill a minute. He realized then, you were Benny in female form.

If Johnny gave you a ride, you'd dig your red nails into the legs of his worn denim shouting, "Is that all you got?" His heart thundered at the challenge, taking turns so quickly you shrieked with delight. He was addicted to the feeling of your hands against his abdomen, igniting the fire in his belly that had been there for you from the beginning.

You were impossible to deny, any request you made satisfied whenever possible and your honor defended at the slightest infraction. The thought of losing your favor, making Johnny's jaw clench hard enough to break a back tooth. As a result, his own recklessness only increased when you were by his side, the racing and fights spurred on by your enthusiastic cheers.

It wasn't only the blood stains on his colors and the renewed swagger in his walk that told the tale. Everyone saw what was happening between you as you exchanged heated glances across the bar on Saturday nights.

When Benny finally disappeared the way he always said he would one day, you and Johnny were already in bed together. Exhausted from a long haul out on the road, you urged him to lie back and enjoy himself as you rode him. One arm behind his head, he looked up at your bouncing tits with a blissed out look on his face.

As he came with a satisfied grunt, your hands pressed to his chest with a look of devilment in your eye. Resuming the slow grind of your hips, you smirked when his large, calloused hands flew to your waist. Moans of overstimulation left his plump lips as you dropped your head to place a kiss. "Feel good?" you taunted.

As he managed a shuddered breath, he admitted, "You're gonna be the death of me."

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I was wondering if you're taking requests, specifically for Athena Grant? If so, please could you write something about:

Reader and Athena are together (engaged) and the reader gets injured (either accidently/someone intentionally hurt) and they've had to remove all the jewelry before surgery, so when the reader wakes up, she's panicking about how she's lost her engagement ring (half still under anesthesia and half boasting to the nurses) until Athena gets there and puts the ring back on her finger again? Like re-proposing in front of the team?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of a serious accident, blood, conversations about possible death and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

You leaned against the rolling doors of the fire station as the sun slowly sank behind the skyscrapers of Los Angeles. Daily life at the station was chaotic, as always - the hum of voices and the heavy clatter of equipment filled the air. The icy cold air left an uncomfortable tingling sensation on your skin, a coldness that you couldn't shake off despite the fleece jacket over your shoulders.

Since your engagement to Athena, you had become strangely calmer, your once impetuous nature had changed. But this uneasy silence that this evening brought with it made you nervous. Your finger unconsciously stroked the shiny ring on your hand - a symbol of love, the promise of a shared future that you had given each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Hen asked, putting a hand on your shoulder while she cast a worried look at you. "Are you unsure about... the engagement?"

"Oh my God, no Hen. I could never be unsure about Athena. It just feels so... unreal," you replied with a gentle smile as you looked at her while pushing yourself away from the wall. "It is a.. magical feeling and I'm so incredibly happy."

Hen smiled broadly at you and before she could answer you, a shrill alarm sounded, echoing through the walls of the building. The adrenaline immediately shot through your body, your muscles tensed, and the moment of calm was over. It was time for action.

"A serious accident on a construction site in the west of downtown! Several injured, unclear situation, possible danger of collapse!" the announcement echoed over the loudspeakers.

Hen and you exchanged a brief, wordless glance - the mixture of concern and determination in your eyes was unmistakable. You walked quickly together towards the ambulance while the rest of the team jumped into the fire trucks. The engines roared as you left the station in a moment when the air seemed to stand still before the chaos began.

The streets of Los Angeles were packed, but the car's sirens cut through the traffic like a knife. You felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline rising inside you. But today it felt different. Every sound seemed sharper, the movements around you faster - as if the world around you was vibrating with tension. You tried to focus your thoughts, but your eyes kept wandering to the shiny ring on your finger. You couldn't shake the wonderful thought that you would soon be a Grant.

When you finally arrived at the construction site, the extent of the disaster was immediately apparent. A gigantic construction site, filled with half-built buildings, cranes towering into the sky, and workers everywhere, panicking and trying to make their way out of the rubble. The scene was a nightmare: steel beams had collapsed, concrete slabs had been shattered, machinery was blocking access roads, and dust hung thick in the air, as if the entire construction site had been shaken by a major earthquake.

Hen and Chimney jumped out of the car and immediately ran to the injured, while you turned your gaze to the half-collapsed part of the construction site, where the cause of the chaos seemed to be. Sparks flew from a stationary smaller crane that was leaning dangerously to the side and threatened to fall onto the scaffolding below.

You immediately ran, your mind on autopilot. It was clear that this situation was life-threatening but this was your job and you would stop at nothing. The crane had to be stabilized before more people were injured. A team of construction workers tried desperately to secure the heavy equipment with steel cables, but it was obvious that their efforts would not be enough. Sweat ran down their foreheads as they frantically shouted orders to the rest of your team, but time was running out.

"Damn, if that thing falls, it'll kill even more people," you cursed inwardly as you ran and grabbed one of the heavy steel cables, trying to help the workers stabilize the machine before Bobby and the others found a solution.

But the situation quickly escalated. A worker, obviously inexperienced and panicked, began to frantically pull on one of the control levers, ignoring the dangerous weight of the wooden beams moving above him. But before Bobby, Eddie or anyone else could intervene, there was a loud crack that made your blood run cold. You looked up - a massive wooden beam finally came loose and fell towards you without stopping.

Everything happened in a split second. The beam crashed down with a deafening roar and hit you with full force. You felt a sharp, piercing pain as the wood hit your body, as if your entire ribcage was being crushed. Your breath was ripped from your lungs, and you could feel the burning pain flooding your body. The sound of bones breaking echoed in your ears, accompanied by the dull thud as your body hit the ground with full force.

You wanted to scream, but no sound came. You lay under the heavy weight, unable to move, and could feel your consciousness slowly fading. Your head spun, and the pounding of your own heartbeat became duller as the blood from the wound in the side of your torso dripped onto the ground at an alarming rate. Your vision blurred, and the sounds around you became quieter. You knew you were losing control.

The world around you began to blur, but the last thing you consciously perceived was a terrified scream from Hen.

She saw it happen as if time itself was slowing down. The massive beam fell as if in slow motion, and even though Hen knew there was nothing she could do, she felt an indescribable feeling of powerlessness. She had promised her best friend, Athena, that she would look after you during missions. "Y/n! No!" she screamed as she ran across the rubble. Her voice was rough and broken, the shock almost paralyzing her.

Chimney, who had also witnessed the accident, was already at her side, grabbing his emergency backpack with shaking fingers. The sight of you lying motionless under the beam made his heart race. You weren't just a colleague, you were family. The unit was a family, and when one of them fell, everyone felt it.

Hen knelt down next to your head and felt desperately for a pulse. The blood loss was frightening, her fingers immediately soaked by the warm, sticky blood that was constantly seeping from the wound. Hen's heart was racing. She had to keep a clear head, but it was difficult. Chimney worked frantically beside her, trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was clear that the injury was serious. Too serious.

Meanwhile, the others tried to keep the gathering crowd under control while securing the other wooden beams to avoid another accident.

"We're losing her!" Chimney shouted, his voice hot with panic as he performed the makeshift wound care. Hen felt her hands shaking as she reached for the equipment, but she forced herself to calm down. There could be no mistakes. Not now.

"She's strong, no one loses anyone here," Hen whispered, more to herself than to Chimney. The sight of your lifeless body made Hen dizzy. Your chest barely heaved and your face was pale and lifeless, as if the life was draining out of you.

The two worked feverishly. Their hands slid confidently over the injured flesh as they tried to stop the blood seeping from the gaping wounds. The world around them seemed to stand still and all that mattered now was the person in front of them - their colleague. Their friend. Their family.

"Chim, we have to get her out of here. If we don't stabilize her, we'll lose her!" Hen shouted, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Each breath you took was weak, as if the next one might be your last.

"Damn it, Hen, the girder is sitting right on her chest. Bobby, you have to lift the girder! She'll bleed to death otherwise!" Chimney answered hastily, as he secured the pressure bandage to the worst part of your injury. The massive wooden beam had hit you hard, and it was a miracle you were still alive. But for how much longer? Chimney's gaze was fixed on the growing pool of blood beneath his knees.

Bobby, Buck, and Eddy were no time in coming. Each of them knew that time was now their enemy. Buck and Eddie immediately began to position themselves at the respective ends of the girder, while Bobby took the lead and stood over you.

"Okay, everyone ready? On my command! One... two... THREE!" he shouted as everyone lifted at the same time to take the weight off you. The wood cracked under the pressure, and for a moment it looked like they wouldn't make it. But with one last, desperate tug, they lifted it just high enough for Chimney to pull you out.

You were almost unconscious, pale as death. Hen looked at her best friend's bloody, limp face and felt her heart sink. This wasn't just any mission. "Stay with us, y/n," she whispered as Chimney carefully lifted you onto a stretcher.

Bobby quickly put an oxygen mask on you while Chimney applied pressure to the wound with one hand and monitored your heart rate with the other. The situation was critical and the team knew that every second counted. Without hesitation, they pushed the stretcher into the ambulance while Buck closed the doors and ran to the fire truck.

"Hen, Chim, we're right behind you," Bobby called before the doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped off, sirens blaring.

The ambulance sped through the streets of Los Angeles, the sirens piercing the night like the howl of a wounded animal. The city lights blurred into a bright kaleidoscope as the two paramedics inside the car raced against time.

Hen drove the ambulance while Chimney worked feverishly to keep the blood flowing. The oxygen mask over your face was a thin thread holding you to this life. The heart rate on the monitor was faint, and every second that passed felt like an eternity.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered to himself as he applied another pressure bandage over the one already soaked in blood. His latex gloves were red with blood, and his eyes were extremely tense. "We're losing her, Hen. The pressure is off."

Hen pressed her lips together, fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "Not now. Not here. Not her. We're almost there, keep her alive!"

The ambulance arrived at the hospital minutes later with screeching tires, and the team jumped out, the stretcher with you in the middle. You were immediately surrounded by a team of emergency doctors who moved their bodies like machines, every grip precise, every action practiced.

"Severe chest trauma, internal bleeding! She's losing a lot of!" Hen shouted after the doctors as they quickly pushed you through the hospital doors. Hen and Chimney followed them, both with their eyes downcast and faces covered in sweat.

The rest of the team also watched as you were pushed down the hallway towards the operating rooms and then the moment came when they disappeared around the corner with you and the team was left alone in a state of confusion, concern, hope and fear. In that moment it felt like the air was being sucked out of the hallway they stood in.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Athena stormed through the hospital corridors, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic vortex of fear, worry and hopelessness. Bobby had called her shortly after arriving at the hospital, and his words echoed in her head as if they were caught on an endless loop: "It's serious. It's serious."

She reached the emergency room and immediately saw the familiar faces of her friends and colleagues. Bobby was the first to step forward to greet her, his face worried but calm. "Athena..." he began, but she didn't let him finish. "Where is she?" Athena whispered, her voice breaking as she looked around. Her eyes wandered frantically through the sterile, brightly lit hospital corridor until they finally settled on Hen. The paramedic stood with her arms crossed, her shoulders slumped forward, looking exhausted and full of grief.

She stepped forward and put a hand on Athena's shoulder, but she felt that words could not bring comfort here. The pain, the fear, the agonizing wait - all of this weighed heavily on Athena. "She's in the operating room. They're fighting... but it doesn't look good," she said carefully in a quiet voice. Her eyes were tired, the minutes of her colleague's blood loss and the constant tension for her life had left their mark on her too.

"Not good?" Athena shook her head in disbelief, as if she couldn't believe these words. She felt an uncontrollable tremor running through her body that she could barely suppress and the walls seemed to close in around her.

"What does that mean, Hen? Are you going to tell me that she might not make it?" Her voice had gotten louder, almost panicked. Bobby, who was standing next to them, held out his hand reassuringly, but Athena backed away. She needed answers, not pity.

"Athena, we don't know," Hen said carefully, her eyes full of compassion. "She has severe internal injuries and the bleeding was extremely critical. But she's in the best hospital, with the best doctors. They're doing everything they can."

But those words were only a small consolation for her. The worry about you weighed heavily on her chest, and she felt helpless. She wanted to be with you, wanted to hold your hand, to tell you that you should fight and not give up. But all she could do now was stand here and wait. Wait while fate decided the life of the woman she loved.

Athena nodded silently, although inside she wanted to scream. She had to pull herself together, not collapse. "At least tell me that she can feel it... that she knows that I'm here," she finally said, directing her words at her best friend.

"Athena, if anyone can do it, it's y/n. She's a fighter. And she'll know you're here, no matter what."

While the entire team waited, the team of surgeons and nurses fought for your survival. The sterile, cool air in the room was filled with frantic, precise movements. The lead surgeon wiped sweat from his brow as he made another deep cut to find the source of the bleeding

"We've stabilized her, but the blood loss is still concerning. Should we add another unit of blood?" one of the nurses asked as she readjusted the oxygen mask and checked the heart rate on the monitor. Each beat of your heart was weak, almost imperceptible.

"Yes, please. Several ribs are broken, internal organ damage. We need to decompress the left lung," he murmured, handling his instruments more tensely than usual. His hands moved in a routine manner.

One of the nurses, meanwhile, took care of the jewelry that remained on your body. The engagement ring on your finger shimmered in the cold operating room light, a tiny spark in the midst of the fight for life and death. With gentle movements, the nurse removed the ring from your blood-stained hand and carefully placed it in a bowl, along with a chain that had been hidden under your uniform, to later clean these items and hand them over to you as soon as you were able to.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright light of the infirmary blinded you as you slowly emerged from the deep darkness of the anesthetic sleep. At first everything was blurry - the shapes, the sounds, the feeling of your own body. You felt that something was wrong, but couldn't grasp what it was. Your head seemed to be wrapped in cotton wool, your thoughts swirled wildly, but one thing was immediately clear: something was missing.

Confusion spread through your foggy mind and your fingers twitched slightly. You instinctively reached for your hand, for the engagement ring that should be there. But it wasn't there. The cool, bare skin of your fingers touched nothing but the air. Panic shot through your body like lightning.

"Where... where is it?" you murmured quietly at first, still too dazed by the painkillers to speak properly. But the confusion quickly turned into naked fear. You blinked, trying to concentrate, but the feeling of emptiness, the loss of your ring, seemed to smother any clarity.

With a sudden, jerky impulse of movement that put the nurses on alert, you began to sit up in your hospital bed. "My ring! Where... where is it?" you gasped, your voice getting louder, your breathing getting faster. The tubes and wires monitoring you pulled taut as you tried to sit up further. Your body was still weak, but your panic gave you a supernatural strength.

One of the nurses rushed to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Calm down, everything is fine. Please lie back down, you've just had a serious operation," she said gently.

But you barely heard her. Your thoughts were a wild storm, and the only reality that existed in your head was the horrible feeling that you had lost the engagement ring. Tears gathered in your eyes and your voice broke into panic. "No! My ring... I... I lost it! Where is it? Where is it?!" You desperately grabbed the nurse's hand as if she could give you the answer.

"It's fine, please, try to relax," said another nurse who had now joined you. "We'll take care of you."

But nothing could calm you down. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the monitor began to beep faster while your heart beat in dangerous panic for your condition. Your eyes wandered around the room, searching for a familiar sign, something that could assure you that you had not lost the ring and everything it symbolized.

"No... no... please... I need it..." you whispered between gasping breaths, your voice full of desperation. The nurses exchanged a worried look, unsure how to calm you down.

Just then, the door opened and Athena entered, closely followed by Hen, Chimney, Bobby, Buck and Eddie. Each of them had spent the last few hours in endless worry, but when they saw you now - your eyes red and filled with tears, your body upright in a bed you weren't supposed to leave yet - a wave of compassion shot through them. The lump in Athena's throat grew when she saw how confused and helpless you looked.

"Hey, hey, everything's fine," Athena called immediately when she saw the panic in your eyes. She quickly went to the bed and knelt by the side, placing her hands firmly on yours. "I'm here, I'm here. You haven't lost anything."

But you shook your head violently, still unable to think clearly. "No... my ring! I lost it! Athena, I lost your proof of love…” The words came in jerky, desperate breaths as tears streamed down your cheeks. You looked at Athena with so much fear in your eyes that it broke her heart.

Athena took a deep breath, then gently squeezed your hand in hers. “Honey, calm down,” she said, her voice firm but loving. She stroked your hand gently. “You didn’t lose it. I have it.”

With those words, Athena reached into her pocket and pulled out the engagement ring—the ring she had put on you months ago when she had promised you to go through whatever life threw at you together. The ring sparkled in the soft light of the hospital room, a familiar, beautiful symbol of their love and future.

Your breathing slowed for a moment when you saw the ring. Your eyes widened, and the panic slowly faded as reality began to penetrate the veil of painkillers. "You... you have it?" you asked quietly, your voice shaking.

"Yes, darling. One of the nurses gave it back to me after she took it from you during surgery for safety reasons. I've been keeping it for you the whole time," Athena said, holding your hand tighter. "I would never let you lose it. You'll always have it. Just like you'll always have me."

Your chest was still heaving heavily, but your panic was noticeably subsiding. You looked at Athena, your eyes filling with tears again, but this time out of relief. "I thought... I thought it was gone."

"It's not gone. It was always here," Athena whispered, holding the ring gently between her fingers before slowly sliding it back onto your finger, right where it belonged.

There was a deep silence in the room. All eyes were on the couple - the team watched as Athena placed the ring back on your finger with as much care and love as if it were the first time. Chimney, Hen, Bobby, Buck and Eddie held their breath as if they were watching a sacred moment.

Athena looked deep into your eyes, her voice firm but tender as she said, "Will you marry me, here and now, a second time, y/n? Will you continue on this path with me, no matter how hard it may be sometimes?"

The words were a mixture of seriousness and comfort, a promise she had made before - and yet now, in this moment, it felt even stronger and more meaningful.

You, still slightly dazed, felt the world around you finally settle down. The fear of losing the ring had been like a huge wave that had washed over you - but now you were back on the shore. The ring was there, Athena was there. Everything was right again.

With tear-filled eyes and a weak but sincere smile, you nodded. "Yes... always yes."

Athena smiled warmly as a wave of relief and love washed through her. She leaned forward, kissed your forehead gently, and in that moment the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The team, which had been in tense silence until then, could no longer contain the emotions.

"This is incredibly beautiful," Buck murmured with a moist gleam in his eyes as Hen poked him in the side.

"It's not often that you see someone propose the same thing twice," Chimney said quietly, his voice full of emotion. Eddie nodded silently and allowed a slight smile to appear while Bobby, the silent observer, took a deep breath. For him, this moment was a symbol of the fighting spirit that united them all.

[allarica]

"I call great Eros, source of sweet delight, holy and pure, and lovely to the sight; Darting, and winged, impetuous fierce desire, with Gods and mortals playing, wandering fire: Cautious, and two-fold, keeper of the keys of heaven and earth, the air, and spreading seas; Come, blessed power, regard these mystic fires, and far avert, unlawful mad desires."

Part 9/? of Allarica’s Greek Gods

yes i'm back with an update on this series one year later thanks

Commissions are open! || Support me on Patreon

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 6

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Eris and Y/N seem to have a knack for putting themselves in unsavory situations. Bonus: Eris has a flashback to the night they met.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Alcohol, Language, Attempted SA

Oh gods. I rolled over slowly only to be met with a wave of nausea and a killer headache. I blinked several times, enough to bring the bedside table into view where a glass of water and a hangover tonic awaited me - at least I had the foresight to brace myself for the impending hell that awaited me after such an intoxicating night out.

It was an effort to pull my arm out from beneath the covers of my bed - which felt so much softer and warmer than usual. I drank a few sips of water and the tonic quickly cured the unease in my stomach but the remnants of the headache still remained. My impetuous little shadows tugged at me to get out of bed but it was just so comfortable - tuning them out I yanked my comforter over my head and drifted back asleep.

——————

Eris

Eris started awake as Y/N roused slightly from her sleep, just enough to find the tonic he’d left on his bedside table for her. Several hours ago, he’d settled in a lounge chair on the opposite side of the bed after she’d spent an hour with her head in the commode, alternating between heaving and berating him for being a “shady motherfucker” all while he held her silken hair back and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Once she’d completely emptied herself of both the contents of her stomach and insults, she insisted she needed to bathe herself - managing to stumble into the bath tub with her clothes still on and demand “something fried and something bubbly, good sir.”

She refused to undress so he could fill the tub, so he left her there to her own devices while he torched some breaded chicken tenderloins in the kitchen - his fire power really came in handy in times like this - where a five foot whatever heathen was demanding sustenance ASAP. “High Lord my ass.” He mumbled to himself as he carried a tray of seltzer water and her fried chicken into the bathroom… where she was sound asleep in the tub.

Good lord, what had he gotten himself into with this beautiful mess. The mother only knew.

So he’d carried her to the bed, feeling a bit sleazy for changing her out of her dress while asleep but it was either let her rest in a liquor and vomit splattered dress that did everything for her curves and absolutely nothing for comfort… or change her out of it and into one of his cotton tees. Perhaps his male ego beamed slightly at the thought of her sleeping in his shirt but he assured himself that her comfort was his top priority.

He warmed the sheets using his fire magic and tucked her in before setting out the tonic and settling in on the lounge.

————————-

Y/N

When I reawoke, it must have been hours later. Whoever came in and opened the curtains could go to hell as the sunlight filtering in assaulted my eyes.

“Mother’s tits.” I groaned out as I stretched, careful not to turn my head too quickly in an effort of staving any sudden returns of nausea or shooting pains from the headache.

As my eyes slowly began adjusting to the damned sunlight, three things stood out. One: my shadows were swirling in front of me and intertwining with my fingers excitedly. Two: Someone was….cooking? In my bedroom. And as my vision fully cleared, three: This wasn’t my room, it was a fucking studio apartment.

“Owww.” I whined as I turned my head toward the direction of whatever greasy delight was cooking only to see red hair pulled up into a bun, a glorious muscular bare back hindered only by the tie of an apron, and delicious toned legs exposed by cloth shorts hemmed at the mid-thigh.

Mother’s tits indeed. Just when I thought the bastard couldn’t get any hotter.

An opportunist, traitor of a shadow shot away from me, caressing his arm as it handled a pan on the stove.

“Morning sunshine.” Eris purred, not even turning to look at me.

I scrunched my nose, lowering my tone into that of disgust - a futile effort to appear unphased by the sight before me “Why are you here? And where the fuck are we?”

“Always a pleasure to see you too, little one. Breakfast first?”

I desperately wanted to object but the bacon he was cooking smelled delicious and fuck if he didn’t look delicious too.

“Whatever.” I muttered, rolling my eyes at either his ability to tolerate whatever I threw at him or myself for being so internally captivated by the half-naked high lord cooking breakfast for me.

He didn’t need to turn around for me to feel the smirk forming on his lips as he began plating our food.

Breakfast was….. silent. Eris sat in a chair watching me with mischief in his eyes and I did my best to focus on the borderline ecstasy inducing combination of grease and whatever smokey, apple seasoning he’d flavored the bacon with.

After a long ‘bout of silence I finally gave in to his game. “Alright Eris,” His name rolled off my tongue like more honey and less venom than intended. “I’ll bite. Where are we anyway? And how?”

“I told you last night, little love. We’re at my apartment.”

Hazy memories rolled back just a bit. A blur of red, a steadying arm, and-

“In Velaris?”

“Is it so shocking that I invest my funds into properties. How many palacial homes do Rhysand and Feyre have now? More than three, yes?”

I crossed my arms. A bit like a petulant child, yes, but it did the trick as it shelved my breasts perfectly enough that Eris was caught off guard. Good.

I leaned forward, the gap in the neck of my - his shirt allowing a glimpse of the unclothed breasts beneath.

“Quit deflecting.” biting my lip, I leaned in a bit closer tracing a finger along his jaw, over the stubble shadowing the sharp angles of it, my palm then meeting his cheek just lightly enough to make his eyelids flutter as he leaned into it.

A fresh wave of the hangover nausea churned through my stomach causing me to tense, slightly drawing back and breaking the trance I had him in.

Eris tsk’d “Uh uh, clever girl.” His eyes darkened as that stupid, perfect sly smirk of his crossed over his features. “You won’t seduce answers from me, though I do love to see you try.” Letting out a sigh that I could have sworn was a bit condescending he continued, “Had you not ghosted me following our delightful night after Starfall, you’d have known.”

“Perhaps Eris, had you not kept information from me and threatened MY High Lord with violence over whatever you’re keeping from me then I would not have resorted to such measures.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, one leg arrogantly crossed over the other as one elbow rested on an arm of the chair and the other hand’s thumb and pointer finger rubbed curiously at his jaw.

“And how- pray tell, do you know of such violent threats? Nothing came through my end of the bargain tattoo so I know that Rhysand did not inform you.”

“No. You should be smarter, High Lord, about what you say beyond established wards. You never know what little ears may be prying.”

Realization crossed Eris’s features as he pieced together who had heard him.

“I simply stated that there would be retaliation. Your High Lord would reciprocate similarly if there were facets of my end of the bargain being broken.”

I leaned closer, inches away from Eris’ face.

“You can tell me what information is so important that a bargain is required to withhold it from me - or I can leave now.”

I could have sworn pain crossed his face briefly before he cooly said, “I’d hate to see you go, my little shadow but I always enjoy watching you leave.”

“I’m sure you do.” I stood up, swaying my hips as I walked toward the door, powering through the lingering hangover symptoms.

“Taking my shirt with you?”

“Ah, you’re right. Best to leave the dirty laundry here.”

Facing Eris and making a show of so slowly pulling the shirt up over my head, giving a perfect view of the rise and the bounce of my breasts as I tossed his shirt back to him.

“Your dress is covered in vomit and liquor.” Hand gesturing lazily toward the dress hanging over the bathroom door knob.

“Guess you’ll have to stay a while longer.

And damn my stubbornness because this was not a battle I was about to let him win.

“I’m winnowing home, Eris. Fuck the dress.”

“Wards extend to the street, sweetheart.”

I faltered but only for a moment.

I’ve never been ashamed of my body but strutting naked into the streets of Velaris wasn’t ideal.

Eh - C’est la vie

I grinned. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled.

Was - was that jealousy? Possessiveness?

And with that, I strutted out of his apartment in only a lace thong.

“Wait!” He called but I didn’t miss a beat.

As I walked into the street, onlookers gawked but I paid no mind. “Y/N! Stop. Come back!” He yelled, grabbing my wrist right as I winnowed to the back door of my home.

“What the fuck was that?” Eris growled, voice low with anger and something else.

I turned to face him as he slung a jacket he’d grabbed on his way out over my shoulders, barely hiding my ass and doing nothing to cover my tits but it’s the thought that counts I suppose.

Had I not still been a bit inebriated from the prior night perhaps I would have remembered I had shadows at my disposal to give at least the illusion of modesty but -

I sobered up quickly as my father stepped out of the door in his leathers - likely headed to meet Uncle Cass before heading to Windhaven - only to be greeted by his mostly naked daughter and half-naked High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Icy rage and total discomfort crossed his features, his shadows shooting out to cover me.

The war of emotions was palpable as he clenched his fists, siphons glowing, eyes shooting daggers straight through Eris.

Eris tensed before dropping his typical arrogant bastard mask into place. “Greetings Spymaster.” An arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.

Father’s jaw clenched and his fists fought a battle of wills as if he’d beat Eris to a pulp right then and there. Finally he managed to ground out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

——————————-

Eris flashback

The prior night

Y/N let out a rather loud snore in her drunken slumber, stirring him from the sleep he’d just begun drifting off to. Her hair had fallen over her face and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and gently tucking it behind her ear.

“Mm, Eris” she whispered in her sleep followed by the slightest upward twitch of her lips.

Fuck - it was so hard sometimes. He wasn’t a perfect male but he did his best to do right by those he cared about.

Sometimes he had to distance himself from her to prevent himself from laying it all bare - tell her everything instead of letting her believe him to be the “sneaky motherfucker”. She was so young, sure in fae society five years, fifty years, five-hundred years age difference, nobody batted an eye but he’d lived so much life compared to her less than thirty.

Amusement and longing rang through him as he took care of her intoxicated ass tonight, reminding him of the night out that brought them together in the first place.

Lucien and Vassa were busy in the Day Court and Adish was going out with a couple of friends - visiting a new tavern in a recently modernized town in the northeastern territory of the Autumn Court. The town itself was safe but there were still the ocasional ruffians passing through. Lucien had requested that Eris send eyes out to ensure their protection. Something urged him to just go himself and damn, he’d never stop being grateful that he did.

The evening itself was boring. Mostly high fae but even lesser fae who had become adjusted to the “new era” ushered in with his reign came out to the tavern. There were harsh punishments for unjust violence within the Autumn Court now. Still, there was so much change needed but it would come in time. His people were rather set in their ways but a new justice system was starting to usher in change.

He nursed a beer in a corner booth, catching the eyes of plenty of fae nearby but managing to avoid the attention of Adish and his crew - which included Nyx Archeron and the little Shadowsinger who he’d heard was quickly rising in their ranks.

Nyx and Adish had both wandered off with a couple of gorgeous females with the classic red hair of his Court along with interestingly enough, Tamlin’s daughter. Layla - if he recalled correctly.

Interesting.

His attention caught as he noticed two brutes who were definitely not from here vying for the little Shadowsinger’s attention. He chuckled to himself as she waived them off, turning back to a group of females she’d stumbled out of the bathroom with. She danced without a care, holding one hand in the air as her shadows steadied her wrist in an effort to prevent spillage.

He’d give it to Rhysand’s Shadowsinger and the Archeron sister who nearly broke his brother’s heart, they passed down all of their best genetics to the stunning female on the dance floor.

The males continued irritating her, going so far as to cut her off from the group by dancing their way between them. She kept dancing but he could have sworn she was letting them cut her off, despite the obvious malicious intentions the males had for her. As they backed her to a quieter portion of the dance floor the larger male grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the door. She shook her head no but he kept pulling as the other male corralled her from behind. Eventually she waived off the grip on her wrist and walked out with them.

Fuck. He really had no interest in lighting anybody’s asses up tonight but someone had to get the trash out of his court. And despite the fact that he and Azriel were never the best of friends, his daughter deserved more than to be ignored due to their indifferences.

So he sighed, exited out the front door and strode toward the alleyway the other entrance had led to. As he rounded the corner, he came to a halt, lurking in the shadows and taking in a sight that he hadn’t anticipated.

The Shadowsinger sat unbothered on top of a barrel with an elbow on the knee that crossed over her opposite leg. Her face filled with complete and utter boredom as she rolled her eyes at the males bound in shadow before her.

“You couldn’t have just let me be, huh boys? I was having fun with the girls in there too.

I suppose I should thank you though. After all, you won me my next three rounds of drinks. You see, the girls and I had a bet on how quickly you’d give in to your sleazy nature.

One of them bet two hours, another an hour, and me? I know a pig when I see one. Less than thirty minutes from the first time you hit on me and, well, here we are boys.”

The males couldn’t speak through the gags her shadows had placed on their mouths but the rage was apparent in their squeals.

“Anyway, since you were so desperate to find release tonight, I’ve decided to help… remedy the situation.”

With a snap of the wrist and the exception of their underwear, their clothes disappeared while the shadows binds remained in place.

She gave them each a once over and a disapproving laugh, withdrawing the shadows that were gagging them.

“Alright boys, I’ve so generously removed your gags as a thank you for helping me win my bet. You may kiss eachother now.”

The males gaped. The burlier of the two seemed to lack the understanding of the fact that he was at the disadvantage in this situation. “You little whor-“

“Uh uh.” She wagged her finger. Shadows aiming at him like daggers. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. Not that it seems anyone ever taught you manners. Pity.”

The males were visually appalled. Glancing back and forth between her and eachother as if saying “what now?”

Both males fought the restraints to no avail as the little Shadowsinger grinned with amusement at the predicament she’d put them in.

“Honestly, I should just have my shadows castrate you. Would that be more appealing? You two seemed perfectly inclined to share me, what’s a kiss between friends?”

“Please. Sorry - just let us go.” The smaller of the two pleaded.

“Once you kiss - perhaps I’ll consider. Best do it soon though, I’d hate for the little situations beneath your underwear to be revealed to the patrons of this lovely establishment when my friends come looking for me.”

The males glanced once more at eachother, leaning closely in, still hesitating but resigning themselves to their fate.

When their lips were mere centimeters apart, she held up a hand. “Ah- just a moment, boys. We have company.”

Eris started at the comment. Looking down he found a shadow winding around his ankle - was he imagining things or was it almost playful?

“High Lord.” She mused. “How do you dispose of the trash in your court?”

Mask in place, he casually stepped out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets and a devilish grin on his face.

Her gaze fixed on him. Her beauty even more striking up close, and her scent - utterly mouth watering. And when his eyes met hers

Snap.

He knew then and there that he was wholehearted and irrevocably hers for the rest of his days.

He’d wait another 500 for it to snap for her too if he had to.

She was his mate. His.

————————-

A/N: Sorry (kind of) for always leaving you all on chaotic little cliffhangers. I hope the flashback made up for the torture at least a little bit!! 😏

Tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin

[owl-house-incorrectly]

Lilith: So, if you’re my employee…and I think you have been very impetuous today…I have the power to fire you on sight?

Steve: Yep!

Lilith:

Steve:

Steve: OH- uh, sorry. I’ll go.

[infinitystoner]

Exaltation

AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: In which you express the depths of your devotion to Loki of Asgard (whilst on your knees).

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/Content: Teasing, Bratty Behavior, Humor, Bit of Fluff, Praise, Smut, Oral (m receiving), Established Relationship, Second Person POV, No Y/N

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: So, I’m kind of obsessed with writing Prince Loki at the moment. Perhaps this is the start of a new collection? Anyway, here’s a lil’ something for @sarahscribbles’ birthday celebration. I hope you enjoy these brats in love, my dear!

Loki huffs as the two of you cross the threshold into his rooms, kicking the heavy golden door shut behind him, the impact reverberating off the stone walls with a resounding thud.  

Norns, he’s as eager to get to the bedchamber as you are. And rightly so – it’s been days. 

“Loki!” You giggle as you turn to him, warm laughter faltering at the sight of his solemn countenance, a shift that tinges the atmosphere with something you can’t quite place.  

It’s unexpected, yet familiar. Anticipation simmers in your stomach as he releases your hand, jerking his chin toward the blazing hearth at the center of his study. 

“Over there. Now.”

Oh. 

Just a few hours earlier, Loki, Thor, and their entourage had returned from a week-long royal hunt. Your reunion at the celebratory feast had been nothing short of scintillating – a mirthful evening of rousing conversation, stolen glances, abundant wine, and teasing touches. 

But it hadn’t been enough. With Loki, it’s never enough. 

He’s always a bit insatiable after time apart, but tonight something is different. There’s a sense of determination emanating from him as he observes you following his order without hesitation. His jaw is set, the muscles of his neck subtly tensing as he holds his head high, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyes bore through you. 

It’s quite thrilling, really. 

The fire emits a symphony of pops and snaps, flames lapping at the logs in an enchanting waltz as Loki stalks forward, commanding your attention with each step. He unfastens his cloak, draping it over the settee. You wonder why you’re not already draped across the sofa, Loki’s body pressing into yours. But you dare not move from your designated spot, especially when you notice the devious glint in his sharp, calculating gaze.

“It’s been much too long, love.” He’s in front of you now, poised and majestic and biting his lip in the most devastating way. The crackling fire crescendos as logs shift, casting shadows that flicker and sway throughout the chamber, and you furtively take a small step to the left. It’s a vain endeavor to quell the mounting ache between your thighs, but at least the new position allows the amber light to accentuate each curve of your silhouette. Because whatever little game Loki’s planning, you intend to win. 

“I don’t know why you insist on making it longer.” 

He only hums in response, quirking a brow as he rocks on his heels, regarding you. 

Infuriating brat. 

Loki slightly startles when you impetuously fist the collar of his tunic, crashing your lips into his. You don’t expect him to lean in, considering his little display of dominance and all, so it’s your turn to be caught unawares when his tongue slips past your lips. It’s slow and sweet, and the lingering taste of honey wine envelops your senses and sends you reeling with pleasure.

When Loki breaks the kiss, you lurch forward, craving more. It’s never enough. 

But any momentum you might’ve summoned with your amorous advance is now gone – the deep, jovial laugh rumbling through his chest a stark contrast to your shallow pants.  

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, his palm flat against your collarbone. “Remain where you are so that I may get a good look at you.” 

“I believe you did enough looking during the feast,” you quip, finally catching your breath. Loki takes another step back, eyes crinkling in mirth and appearing every bit the mischievous god that he is. 

“There wasn’t much else that could be done in front of the Allfather and half of Asgard, now was there, darling? And surely you cannot fault me for wanting to admire a divine creature such as yourself.” 

Damn that silver tongue.

“But I am curious to know all the sordid thoughts hidden away in that pretty head of yours,” Loki continues, his darkened eyes raking over your body as a familiar warmth ignites every nerve ending like a fiery enchantment. At first, you think he’s magicked away your gown – a dash of disappointment arising in you when you realize you’re still fully clothed.

“Whatever do you mean?” you reply, tauntingly narrowing your eyes. It’s a wily attempt to lure Loki into your trap – because the only thing he loves more than provoking chaos is countering a challenge. 

“Careful, little one. Do not lie to me. Not when both know your intentions are less than honorable, what with that rousing performance licking the ambrosia from your fingertips at the high table.” 

An impish smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he circles you, the stealth movement reminding you of a predator on the prowl. You refuse to be his prey. For now, anyway. 

“Oh, that? Merely an ill-timed consequence of misplacing the serviette.” 

Loki’s fingertips trail down your arms before he grasps your hips, pulling you against his solid form. 

“Is that so?” he rasps in your ear, his cool breath sending a chill down your spine. His erection is evident, and you both shamelessly groan as you grind your ass into him. 

“See?” The timbre of his voice vibrates across your flesh as he cups your breast, his thumb roughly flicking your nipple through the sinfully thin fabric of your dress. “Trouble.”

“You love it.” 

“Oh, do I ever,” he hums, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin below your ear as his hands continue their exploration. It’s an addicting action he knows drives you wild, and, in the haze of lust he’s conjuring, you don’t realize he’s deftly unclasping the pin at the shoulder of your gown.   

A small gasp escapes you as the silken bodice pools around your waist. Even with the hearth burning beside you, the air in the chamber is crisp, and Loki’s hands are cooler still. He circles you again, tugging the lustrous material over your hips, a smug grin adorning his face as you stand completely bare before him. You straighten your shoulders as he retreats, his pupils expanding with unabated lust as he drinks in the sight of you. 

The light ebbs and flows around you, but your eyes are solely focused on each other as Loki settles into the plush velvet armchair across from where you stand. 

“So brazen,” you tease, stepping out of your slippers and lightly kicking your discarded garment to the side. “But I thought you fancied yourself a benevolent god, Loki.” 

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” he says, eyeing the front of his trousers. “I suppose that was quite unfair of me, wasn’t it?”

He waves his hand with a flourish, his clothing evaporating in a flash of emerald. 

Gods, he’s gorgeous. Golden light flickers across his immaculate physique and a part of you wants to stay here forever – committing the impossible splendor of this maddening man to memory. But Loki has other plans. 

“Enjoying the view?”

You release a shaky breath, the throbbing in your core becoming more unbearable by the second. “Yes.”

“But it’s not enough, is it?” His voice drips with a blend of amusement and mockery, as if savoring the mere taste of your frustration. 

He’s going to be the end of you. You shake your head, watching in awe as he widens his hips, the ripple of elegant muscle beneath his alabaster skin accentuated in the firelight – but it’s the sight of his beautiful cock resting against his thigh that makes your heart stutter. You’re gawking, too; you’re sure of it. But you don’t care. 

When your eyes dart up to meet his, Loki smiles and silently beckons you with a graceful curl of his forefinger. 

Finally. Arousal thrums through your veins, but as you move to climb atop him, he snatches your wrist, and you freeze. 

“Kneel.” 

It’s a command so powerful, so sensual, that you know surrender is imminent. 

You’re between his thighs in a heartbeat, yearning to worship every glorious inch of him. Your knees sink into the plush furs at his feet as you prepare to indulge every request he makes.

“Loki…” you say breathlessly, dragging your nails up his muscular calves. 

“You know–” he interrupts “–out there, in the wilds of Asgard, the vision of you on your knees, begging for me, possessed my every waking thought. In fact, darling, I was so preoccupied that I nearly clipped Thor with a rogue arrow.” 

You breathe out a nervous laugh at his admission, and his lips curl into that damned smirk as he looks down at you. It’s the one he always dons when he’s up to something, and suddenly everything falls into place.

“Beg.”

Your resolve shatters, words tumbling from you without conscious thought. “I need to touch you, Loki. Please.” 

“Oh, you can do better than that, dove,” he taunts, languidly beginning to stroke himself. “Beg for me and I’ll give you exactly that which you desire.” 

You inhale, mouth watering in anticipation and mind reeling with possibility. And then the perfect words come to you.

“My king,” you say with an air of innocence, pride bubbling in your chest as Loki’s cock twitches in his palm. “I am yours. Completely.” 

Your gaze meets his as you caress his thighs, pushing them slightly outward as you lean forward. He exhales when your hand replaces his own, shifting in the chair as you emulate his unhurried strokes.

“Words alone cannot express my eternal devotion.” 

His eyes glisten as he reaches down to tenderly grasp your chin, the pad of his thumb massaging your bottom lip. 

“That isn’t–” Loki hesitates, his voice carrying a hint of wariness, and your heart aches for him. All these years and some small part of him still believes he’s unworthy of your affection. 

He deserves every ounce of veneration you can bestow upon him – and not just tonight. For as long as time stretches across the cosmos, you’ll spend your days and nights proving to Loki the love you share is real and that he is worthy of it and so much more. 

“Allow me to exalt you” is what you think you say before he guides himself into your mouth, but you’re not certain of anything right now. Except that he’s warm and heavy on your tongue, and the sweet, tangy taste of him is divine. 

You hear him gasp from above, and you moan in turn, watching in fascination as he responds to your touch. He’s everything you desire and soon your fervent slurps and Loki’s soft grunts are the only sounds accompanying the crackles and pops of the fire.  

“Gods, yes,” he pants, delicately placing his hand at the nape of your neck as you quicken your pace. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.” 

His praise spurs you to flatten your tongue against his cock, working your magic until his hips rise to meet your every movement. 

Saliva drips from the corners of your lips as his sounds of pleasure intensify, thighs shuddering around you. His brows knit, face contorting in ecstasy as you gag around him. 

“Faen… I- I’m,” Loki manages to say through gritted teeth, chin pointing up to the heavens before his hips jerk once, twice – a strangled groan echoing around the chamber as he spills into your mouth. 

When his hand falls from your head, you slowly pull off of him, sitting back on your heels to admire the view before you. 

He’s still hard, and you already miss the weight of him on your tongue, but the flush of pink on his cheeks and the thin sheen of perspiration on his brow, along with the ragged rise and fall of his chest, assures you he’s properly sated – for the next few minutes, at least. 

“Get up here, woman,” he instructs, eyes twinkling as he guides you to his lap. As you straddle his waist, Loki’s head tilts to the side, an expression of absolute reverence that no one – save for you – ever bears witness to on his handsome face. 

“I love you.” It’s a whispered incantation on your skin, his cool breath sparking a yearning that burns brighter than any star in the night sky. Surely this must be what Valhalla feels like.

You open your mouth to respond – to tell him you’d unquestionably journey to the ends of the universe and beyond with him – but the passion burning in his eyes compels you to kiss him again. You delight in the small whimper he makes when you bite his bottom lip, rolling your hips against him in response. Loki deepens the kiss as you comb your fingers through his dark curls. It’s surprising that he allows you to continue your search for friction as you grind into him, but just as you’re nearing the edge of bliss, he pulls away, stilling your motions with his hands as you whine in protest. 

The glow from the hearth illuminates his dimples as he grins up at you before playfully swatting your ass.

“You know, I don’t believe you ever actually begged,” Loki says, turning his head to leisurely kiss along your inner wrist. “We’re going to have to rectify that.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, your highness?” 

Truthfully, you aren’t sure which prospect excites you more, but without warning you’re in motion, a small shriek escaping you as the prince lifts you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. 

Loki pretends to ponder your question as he lays you gently on the sofa, his practiced fingers dipping between your legs. 

“I promise you this, my love: You’ll be begging for release before the night’s end.”

[rounderhouse]

love pyromancers. love when a character’s connection with the flame is reflected in their personality — intense, combustive, passionate, destructive and self-destructive. love characters that step away from the traditional mode of fire as destruction, because fire also brings birth and renewal and equalization. forest fires cleanse the land, and healers use their flames to cauterize and mend. fire is the impetus for life.

[gojuo]

this show went from aemond killing luke (who took out his eye) to purposely killing his brother, because of some drunken joke.

Aemond embarrassed him at the council by also speaking Valyrian fluently and Egg could barely complete a sentence, they were even!

kill a sibling and and not feeling the slightest bit of guilt He takes aegon's dagger and walks away casually as if it wasn't his full brother dying there) about it is something only the worst of the worst would do such as gregor clegane, euron greyjoy and ramsay bolton. it's sick..nothing like stannis and maekar who killed their brothers but had no happiness about it

even daemon targ didn't dare try to kill viserys wtf

we are doomed. we expected complexity between aegond and we received and we received an attempt at fratricide and regicide 😭

It's just not even remotely an interesting or compelling or sympathetic character arc or motivation to me, sorry. I didn't care for Aemond in the book, I loved him in the show out of spite, now I'm back to not caring about him bc this is just not the type of character whose development, whether it be a progression or a regression, I enjoy following. My bridges are burned 😬

Side note maybe but I've noticed how it's Daemon that's getting the sympathetic portrayal concerning his family over his narrative foil Aemond, which, in my opinion, is another aspect of the Greens Condal is taking away and giving to the Blacks that I've been harping on about in posts and tags everywhere lately.

The greatest of his rivals was Daemon Targaryen, the king’s ambitious, impetuous, moody younger brother.

Fire and Blood, p. 354.

As King Viserys had no living son, Daemon regarded himself as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and coveted the title Prince of Dragonstone, which His Grace refused to grant him…but by the end of year 105 AC, he was known to his friends as the Prince of the City and to the smallfolk as Lord Flea Bottom. Though the king did not wish Daemon to succeed him, he remained fond of his younger brother, and was quick to forgive his many offenses.

Fire and Blood, p. 355

Thus did matters stand in King’s Landing late in the year 105 AC, when Queen Aemma was brought to bed in Maegor’s Holdfast and died whilst giving birth to the son that Viserys Targaryen had desired for so long. The boy (named Baelon, after the king’s father) survived her only by a day, leaving king and court bereft... save perhaps for Prince Daemon, who was observed in a brothel on the Street of Silk, making drunken japes with his highborn cronies about the “heir for a day.” When word of this got back to the king (legend says that it was the whore sitting in Daemon’s lap who informed on him, but evidence suggests it was actually one of his drinking companions, a captain in the gold cloaks eager for advancement), Viserys became livid. His Grace had finally had a surfeit of his ungrateful brother and his ambitions.

Fire and Blood, p. 359.

Prince Daemon was not amongst them, however. Furious at the king's decree [naming Rhaenyra heir], the prince quit King's Landing, resigning from the City Watch. He went first to Dragonstone, taking his paramour Mysaria with him upon the back of his dragon Caraxes, the lean red beast the smallfolk called the Blood Wyrm. There he remained for half a year, during which time he got Mysaria with child. When he learned that his concubine was pregnant, Prince Daemon presented her with a dragon's egg, but in this he again went too far and woke his brother's wroth. King Viserys commanded him to return the egg, send his whore away, and return to his lawful wife, or else be attained as a traitor. The prince obeyed, though with ill grace, dispatching Mysaria (eggless) back to Lys, whilst he himself flew to Runestone in the Vale and the unwelcome company of his "bronze bitch." But Mysaria lost her child during a storm on the narrow sea. When word reached Prince Daemon he spoke no syllable of grief, but his heart hardened against the king, his brother. Thereafter he spoke of King Viserys only with disdain, and began to brood day and night on the succession.

Fire and Blood, p. 360.

After Mysaria lost her unborn child, Daemon hated Viserys. He had no love for his brother anymore and began his grooming of an 8-year-old Rhaenyra to get closer to what his biggest wish in life was: the Iron Throne.

Notice how this is not him in the show but Aemond now? The bullying + brothel plotline to make him hate Aegon is not there in the book. In contrast, Aegon, Aemond and Daeron together actually hated the Strong bastards and none of them, especially not Aegon, were friends.

The sins of the fathers are oft visited on the sons, wise men have said; and so it is for the sins of mothers as well. The enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra was passed on to their sons, and the queen’s three boys, the Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, grew to be bitter rivals of their Velaryon nephews, resentful of them for having stolen what they regarded as their birthright: the Iron Throne itself. Though all six boys attended the same feasts, balls, and revels, and sometimes trained together in the yard under the same master-at-arms and studied under the same maesters, this enforced closeness only served to feed their mutual mislike, rather than binding them together as brothers.

Fire and Blood, p. 377-378.

It was Viserys actually who hurt Aemond over being dragonless, NOT Aegon.

Only the middle son, Prince Aemond, remained dragonless, but His Grace had hopes of rectifying that, and had put forward the notion that perhaps the court might sojourn at Dragonstone after the funeral. A wealth of dragon’s eggs could be found beneath the Dragonmont, and several young hatchlings as well. Prince Aemond could have his choice, “if the lad is bold enough.” Even at ten, Aemond Targaryen did not lack for boldness. The king’s gibe stung, and he resolved not to wait for Dragonstone.

Fire and Blood, p. 380.

Aemond in the book was also never characterized as lusting after the throne like Daemon was. He's always been presented as a staunch supporter of Aegon's birthright.

One-eyed Prince Aemond, nineteen, was found in the armory, donning plate and mail for his morning practice in the castle yard. “Is Aegon king?” he asked Ser Willis Fell, “or must we kneel and kiss the old whore’s cunny?”

Fire and Blood, p. 397.

The greatest danger was deemed to be Storm’s End, for House Baratheon had always been staunch in support of the claims of Princess Rhaenys and her children. Though old Lord Boremund had died, his son Borros was even more belligerent than his father, and the lesser storm lords would surely follow wherever he led. “Then we must see that he leads them to our king,” Queen Alicent declared. Whereupon she sent for her second son. Thus it was not a raven who took flight for Storm’s End that day, but Vhagar, oldest and largest of the dragons of Westeros. On her back rode Prince Aemond Targaryen, with a sapphire in the place of his missing eye. “Your purpose is to win the hand of one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters,” his grandsire Ser Otto told him, before he flew. “Any of the four will do. Woo her and wed her, and Lord Borros will deliver the stormlands for your brother. Fail—” “I will not fail,” Prince Aemond blustered. “Aegon will have Storm’s End, and I will have this girl.”

Fire and Blood, p. 400.

“You must rule the realm now, until your brother is strong enough to take the crown again,” the King’s Hand told Prince Aemond. Nor did Ser Criston need to say it twice, writes Eustace. And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of king, but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent.

Fire and Blood, p. 437.

I know people like using this passage as evidence that Aemond wanted the crown, but this is the only sentence that insinuates such a thought in the entirety of F&B, and it then also gets shots down immediately in the next sentence after. People can yap about how Aemond knows he can’t do or say anything as long as Maelor is alive, but when this one sentence—which gets rebuked pronto anyway—is the only evidence you have for that headcanon vs. Daemon who in the text explicitly and repeatedly is said to want to throne and hate his brother, then it’s just not a supported notion in the text or subtext at all.

That “‘Tis I the younger brother who studies philosophy, history and swords etc. etc.” is also nowhere in the book. This second son complex is just a show invention that used to be Daemon’s in the book now given to Aemond in the show, because of course Condal wants Daemon to be far more sympathetic in the eyes of the audience through exploring his love and guilt towards his brother and Rhaenyra with the Harrenhal hallucinations, rather than Aemond, whose actions snowballed into Blood and Cheese and who has a far better character arc lying in wait if that love and guilt he feels towards his brother post-B&C had actually been his.

Show!Aemond is such a wasted character, really. They had so much potential in him becoming an unhinged, murderous psycho falling into impatiency (reason for leaving KL and Cole unprotected) and mania (reason for carpetbombing the Riverlands) because of the immeasurable guilt he feels for what his actions have caused his family (Kinslaying!! The greatest sin in Westeros!!! Blood and Cheese!! ASOIAF’s most atrocious event that kinda happened because of him a little bit!!!)... And yes, it’s not a justification but it’s a reason for why he would do such monstrous things in the book because that’s just how a young, 19-year-old, emotionally volatile, new-to-the-horrors-of-war Targaryen prince with access to nukes would act like once he’s wholly consumed by the guilt of Blood and Cheese and war and the failure at Rook’s Rest and his brother’s disability therefore he’d become unable to face his family anymore culminating in what’s basically his suicide above the God’s Eye... His obsession with facing Daemon could have been because he feels like he has to redeem himself towards his brother for kinda being the cause of Jaehaerys’ death... but Ryan Condal does not want the viewer’s focus to stay on Blood and Cheese or else that would mean negative feelings towards Daemon and Rhaenyra are validated, and also the Greens can’t love each other and care about each other or how else can Condal portray them as fuckups unworthy of positivity so that the viewer does not get attached to them or root for them? Blood and Cheese and Jaehaerys have practically been forgotten by the Greens and the show by now. Nobody cares anymore! How many times has anyone even said his name? Uggghhhhh.

That love and loyalty the Greens feel for each other was, of course, all propaganda 🙄 Daemon in the book got his somewhat redemption through saving Nettles at the cost of betraying Rhaenyra, so fuck Condal for switching him and Aemond around and fuck Condal for cutting Nettles in order to whitewash Rhaenyra some more. And then stealing the love and loyalty the Greens had to the family and giving it to the Blacks. Ugh.

[cambion-companion]

matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

[101suouexpressions]

Symbols of Takiishi and Umemiya in Ch.150

Contains Chapter 150 spoilers!!!

I was working on symbolisms in WBK and chapter 150 came out and I LOST MY MIND GRRRR

Continue under the cut.

The panel of Takiishi vs Umemiya was directly accompanied with another panel:

In my previous post, it was (not really subtly) implied that Umemiya, being the Boufuurin leader and surrounded by the Four Heavenly Kings, carries the same role as Buddha. Thus, you can see Budda on the right.

But what about Takiishi? We have so little information of him, but from this frame, I'm pretty certain that here, Takiishi is Garuda, or Karura in Japanese Buddhist version.

Garuda in Buddhism is invoked as a symbol of impetuous violent force, speed, and martial prowess.

Karura (迦楼羅), sometimes can go by the name of konjichō (金翅鳥, lit. "gold-winged bird", is a gigantic, fire breathing bird that feeds on dragons/serpents. In Journey to the West, Garuda was subdued by Buddha and served Buddha from then on.

EDIT: I WAS WRONG! THANK YOU ANON FOR TELLING ME

"Ume is associated with fudo myoo, not buddha. He has a sword and fangs, which is how he's usually depicted." - Anon

TYSM anon this really sheds some light into me, I'm rewiring all my thoughts rn!

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

Dopamine Week fic recs - all Rogue Trader gift exchange fics!!!

Because I'm short on time this week, here's a link list to all the fics that have been written in the two Rogue Trader gift exchanges so far to celebrate the awesome people in this fandom and the great work they create!

First RT gift exchange May 25th*:

A smuggler and a thief by nikozaur - Jae x m!Rogue Trader

Some masks are borne of convenience, some of of necessity. Sometimes, it is difficult to distinguish which of them is the real face.

The last dance and the first by @theevilscribbler - Xavier Calcazar x f!Rogue Trader

After a successful meeting with the Lord Inquisitor during her Magnae Accessio, Cesselie von Valancius is surprised to find that Xavier Calcazar has lingered to enjoy the party a little longer. Will a less formal encounter pave the way to something more?

Part of the trial by Hackinslash - Marazhai x Sister Argenta

Enjoy two characters at their lowest ebb, fighting against the odds to get a taste of redemption and freedom.

Radiance on the bridge by @captastra Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

Heinrix van Calox gets lost in thought as he watches Isidora von Valancius on the bridge of her ship.

A leap into the void by myself XD - Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

Heinrix van Calox and Lethyan von Valancius spend a quiet evening in the observatorium. Things turn spicy fast and Lethyan finds out that even a Biomancer's willpower has its limits.

Second RT gift exchange August 17th:

Systematical; Sacrificial by @vossprime - Pasqal x f!Rogue Trader

The Rogue Trader and Pasqal discuss their blossoming entanglement, life after Commorragh, and Pasqal's mechadendrites. A strange ritual ensues.

Storytime by @holylustration Heinrix x m!Rogue Trader x Jae

Cassia's heard a tale from some midshipmen - and as everything one hears from the crew must be true - she's invited the Lord Captain and some friends to share the story. Not everyone is impressed.

We're tender mammals mostly by @gravelorded Pasqal x f!Rogue Trader

Mercy. Von Valancius knows it, even if she refuses to speak its name. A tech-priest knows to excise it to better understand the Omnissiah’s directive, but for her- for this moment only, he assures- he will try.

Closed Impetus by @vossprime - Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

Rogue Trader Elena von Valancius and Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox find themselves at a spontaneous ball. Between investigating noble intrigues and fast dances, they have to ponder the status of their relationship since the Magnae Accessio.

A sound strategy by @theevilscribbler - Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

As the siege on Eufrates II draws close and their future hangs in the balance, Inquisition Agent Heinrix van Calox is determined to ensure that all their plans are flawless, even at the cost of his own well-being. Fortunately, his beloved Rogue Trader is on hand to assist with his preparations… and even has a few interesting suggestions of her own!

Tender by @vitanithepure - Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

Sometimes Heinrix van Calox needs a reminder that those that play with fire often get burned.

A Tech-Priest's heart by @captastra Pasqal x f!Rogue Trader

Pasqal slowly starts to learn that the heart, machine or not, still has a way of falling.

Down the line by Hackinslash - Marazhai x m!Rogue Trader

Marazhai Aezyrraesh wishes to taste some of Seth von Valancius's psyker powers, and his little pet doesn't dare refuse.

A rare flower amidst Chaos by myself - Heinrix x f!Rogue Trader

Lord Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox had always loved Lienna von Valancius. Yet duty had kept the lovers apart until now. Heinrix has been summond to Lyxus to attend a picnic, and he has a confession to make.

*if I missed a fic please send me a message and I'll add it promptly.

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