#p: can we just continue investigating...

[pockyfr0g]

funny doodle

[giuliettagaltieri]

Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem.  And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands.  No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances.  It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day.  A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system.  The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it.  And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk.  Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report.  How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit.  Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen.  His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.”  He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man.  But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day.  You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?”  He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!”  You finally burst.  Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show.  “There is a report given, and a very good one at that.  Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk.  “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement.  You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system.  A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?”  A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support.  They have to stay in your good graces.  All eight of them are dispensable.  If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband.  “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.”  You say.  “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment.  “Indeed.  May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.”  You say and you begin tidying up your stuff.  Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation.  Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you.  They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips. 

“Have a great day.”  You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?”  He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly.  “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.”  He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much.  Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.”  You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?”  There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye.  “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You smile at him sweetly.  “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp.  He does not take mentions of his death lightly.  Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.”  He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue.  Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak.  Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him.  But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up.  He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway.  Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs.  You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him.  Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.”  You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02.  Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation.  It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is.  They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband.  You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves.  Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.”  You attempt a smile and they actually bite.  “In honor of our President, and us.”  You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal.  You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”  

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?”  You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…”  he pauses as he scratches his chin.  “upset with you.”

You scoff.  “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!”  You point at him harshly.  “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards!  But what did you do?  You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.”  Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away.  “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”  

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth.  You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple.  “Be good.”  He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room.  Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch.  His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth.  And that…you canceled all your plans for the day.  And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier. 

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk.  Your smile was brighter then.  

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax.  Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home.  He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home.  It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit.  He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom.  He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down.  No one has taken you and you did not leave.  Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read.  It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on.  The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!”  You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him.  “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.”  He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?”  You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.”  He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips.  “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?”  He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens.  Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.”  He tells you.

You nod.  You both have that in common.  But you do not want to tell him as his case was different.  You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right.  To do things how he would have done it.  Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father.  Nor husband.”  He chuckles bitterly.  “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.”  Coriolanus tells you truthfully.  “I love you.”  He confesses, making your chest tighten.  “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.”  He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest.  “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.”  His hand grips on your bum possessively.  “When she should have been worshiped day by day.”  His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge.  Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.”  You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin.  You watch as he plants his lips on your scar.  A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.”  He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!”  You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit.  His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit.  Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self.  Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in.  Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders.  And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening.  His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep.  It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy.  Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge.  He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him.  Telling him how good he is making you feel.  Oh, and he reveled in it.  Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle!  But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty.  Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists.  Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!”  You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?”  His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you!  He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit.  Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself.  Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure.  You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs. 

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in.   Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?”  He reminds you.  “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod. 

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions.  Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix.  Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you.  President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order.  But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.”  And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper.  Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.”  He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent.  His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please!  I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?”  He reaches to grab your chin.  “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks.  You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix.  And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”  

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock.  He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling.  He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom.  It was calm again.  Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.”  You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now.  His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people.  You don’t coddle them.  Let the District officials do their job.  They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment.  And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are.  “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly.  “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.”  You say rather darkly.  “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat.  “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers.  “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.”  You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces.  “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in.  No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form.  You are his stability.  Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him.  Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.”  Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest.  “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.  

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

[felassan]

Edge – The Future of Interactive Entertainment magazine, issue #401 (October 2024 issue) – Dragon Age: The Veilguard story

The rest of this post is under a cut for length.

Update: this issue of this magazine is now available to buy from UK retailers today. it can be purchased online at [this link]. [Tweet from Edge Online] also, Kala found that a digital version of the magazine can be read at [this link].

This post is a word-for-word transcription of the full article on DA:TV in this issue of this magazine. DA:TV is the cover story of this issue. When transcribing, I tried to preserve as much of the formatting from the magazine as possible. Edge talked to BioWare devs for the creation of this article, so the article contains new quotes from the devs. the article is written by Jeremy Peel. There were no new screenshots or images from the game in the article. I also think that it contains a few lil bits of information that are new, like the bits on companions' availability and stumbling across the companions out and about on their own in the world e.g. finding Neve investigating an abduction case in Docktown.

tysm to @simpforsolas and their friend for kindly telling me about the article!!

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[image source]

Article introduction segment:

"[anecdote about Edge] We were reminded of this minuscule episode in Edge's history during the creation of this issue's cover story, in which we discuss the inspiration behind Dragon Age: The Veilguard with its creators at BioWare. Notably, director John Epler remembers the studio experimenting with a number of approaches during the early phase of development before eventually locking in to what the game was supposed to be all along, above all else: 'a single-player, story-focused RPG'. As you'd expect from BioWare, though, that was really just a starting point, as we discovered on p54." BioWare draws back the Veil and ushers us into a new Dragon Age

"BEHIND THE CURTAIN BioWare's first true RPG in age age is as streamlined and pacey as a dragon in flight. By Jeremy Peel Game Dragon Age: The Veilguard Developer BioWare Publisher EA Format PC, PS5, Xbox Series Origin Canada Release Autumn

The Dragon Age universe wasn't born from a big bang or the palm of an ancient god. Instead, it was created to solve a problem. BioWare was tired of battling Hasbro during the making of Baldur's Gate and Neverwinter Nights, and wanted a Dungeons & Dragons-like setting of its own. A small team was instructed to invent a new fantasy world in which the studio could continue its groundbreaking work in the field of western RPGs, free of constraints.

Well, almost free. BioWare's leaders mandated that the makers of this new world stick to Eurocentric fantasy, and include a fireball spell - since studio co-founder Ray Muzyka had a weakness for offensive magic.

Beyond that, BioWare’s storytellers were empowered to infuse Dragon Age with their own voices and influences, leaning away from D&D’s alignment chart and towards a moral grayness that left fans of A Song Of Ice And Fire feeling warm and cozy.

In the two decades since, the world of Thedas – rather infamously and amusingly, a shortening of ‘the Dragon Age setting’ that stuck – has taken on a distinct flavor. It’s something director John Epler believes is rooted in characters.

“There’s definitely some standard fantasy stuff in Dragon Age, but everything in the world, every force, is because of someone,” he says. “The idea is that every group and faction needs to be represented by a person – someone you can relate to. Big political forces are fine as background, but they don’t provide you with those interesting story moments.”

Dragon Age: The Veilguard bears out that philosophy. The long-awaited sequel was first announced with the subtitle Dreadwolf, in reference to its antagonist, Solas – an ancient elf who once stripped his people of immortality as punishment for betraying one of their own. In doing so, Solas created the Veil, the thin barrier through which wizards pull spirits and demons invade the waking world. In other words, many of Dragon Age’s defining features, from its downtrodden elves to the uneasy relationship between mages and a fearful church, can be traced right back to one character’s decision.

“The world exists as it does because of Solas,” Epler says. “He shaped the world because of the kind of character he was. That’s, to me, what makes Dragon Age so interesting. Everything can tie back to a person who to some degree thought they were doing the right thing.”

Perhaps BioWare’s greatest achievement in slowburn character development, Solas is a former companion, an unexploded bomb who sat in the starting party of Dragon Age: Inquisition, introverted and useful enough to get by without suspicion. Yet by the time credits rolled around on the Trespasser DLC, players were left in no doubt as to the threat he presented.

Determined to reverse the damage he once caused, the Dreadwolf intends to pull down the Veil, destroying Thedas as we know it in the process. The next Dragon Age game was always intended to be his story.

“We set that up at the end of Trespasser,” Epler says. “There was no world where we were ever going to say, ‘And now let’s go to something completely different.’ We wanted to pay off that promise.”

Yet almost everything else about the fourth Dragon Age appears to have been in flux at one time. In 2019, reporter Jason Schreier revealed that an early version, starring a group of spies pulling off heists in the Tevinter Imperium, had been cancelled two years prior. Most of its staff were apparently moved onto BioWare’s struggling Anthem, while a tiny team rebooted Dragon Age from scratch. That new game was said to experiment with live-service components.

“We tried a bunch of different ideas early on,” Epler says. “But the form The Veilguard has taken is, in a lot of ways, the form that we were always pushing towards. We were just trying different ways to get there. There was that moment where we really settled on, ‘This is a singleplayer, story-focused RPG – and that’s all it needs to be’”.

Epler imagines a block of marble, from which BioWare was attempting to carve an elephant – a character- and story-driven game. “We were chipping away, and sometimes it looked more like an elephant and sometimes it didn’t”, he says. “And then we eventually realized: ‘Just make an elephant’. When we got to that, it almost just took shape by itself.”

2014’s Dragon Age: Inquisition was an open-world game commonly criticized for a slow-paced starting area which distracted players from the thrust of the plot. The Veilguard, in contrast, is mission-based, constructed with tighter, bespoke environments designed around its main story and cast. “We wanted to build a crafted, curated experience for the player,” Epler says. “Pacing is important to us, and making sure that the story stays front and center.”

Epler is very proud of Inquisition, the game on which he graduated from cinematic designer to a lead role (for its DLC). “But one of the things that we ran into on that project was an absentee antagonist,” he says. “Corypheus showed up and then disappeared. You spent ten hours in the Hinterland doing sidequests, and there wasn’t that sense of urgency.”

This time, The Veilguard team wants you to constantly feel the sword of Damocles dangling above your head as you play – a sense that the end of the world is coming if you don’t act. “There’s still exploration – there’s still the ability to go into some of these larger spaces and go off the beaten path to do sidequests,” Epler says. “But there’s always something in the story propelling you and the action forward, and allowing you to make decisions with these characters where the stakes feel a lot more immediate and present. And also, honestly, more real.”

No sooner have you finished character creation than Dragon Age: The Veilguard thrusts you into a choice. As your protagonist, Rook, steps into focus on the doorstep of the seediest bar in town, you decide whether to threaten the owner for information or make a deal. Brawl or no, you’ll walk out minutes later with a lead: the location of a private investigator named Neve Gallus, who can help you track down Solas.

You proceed into Minrathous, the largest city in Thedas and capital of the Tevinter Imperium – a region only alluded to in other Dragon Age games. It’s a place built on the backs of slaves and great mages, resulting in tiered palaces and floating spires – a kind of architecture unimaginable to those in the southern nations.

“When your Dragon Age: Inquisition companion Dorian joins you in Orlais, in one of the biggest cities in Thedas, he mentions that it’s quaint and cute compared to Minrathous,” Corinne Busche, game director on The Veilguard, says. “That one bit of dialogue was our guiding principle on how to realize this city. It is sprawling. It is lived-in. Sometimes it’s grimy, sometimes it’s bougie. But it is expansive.”

Immediately, you can see the impact of BioWare’s decision to tighten its focus. Around every other corner in Minrathous is an exquisitely framed view, a level of spectacle you would never see in Inquisition, where resources were spread much more thinly. “When you know that you’re gonna be heading down a canyon or into this plaza where the buildings open up, you have those perfect spots to put a nice big temple of Andraste or a mage tower,” art director Matthew Rhodes says. “You get those opportunities to really hit that hard.”

BioWare’s intention is to make strong visual statements that deliver on decades of worldbuilding. “People who have a history with Dragon Age have thought about what Minrathous might be like,” Rhodes says. “We can never compete with their imagination, but we can aim for it like we’re shooting for the Moon.”

The people of Tevinter use magic as it if were electricity, as evidenced by the glowing sigils that adorn the dark buildings – street signs evoking Osaka’s riverfront or the LA of Blade Runner. They’re just one of the tricks BioWare’s art team uses to invite you to stop and take in the scene. “A lot of what you start to notice when you’re the artist who’s been working on these big, beautiful vistas and neat murals on the walls is how few players look up,” Rhodes says. “We design props and architecture that help lead the eyes.”

For the really dedicated shoegazers, BioWare has invested in ray-traced reflections, so that the neon signage can be appreciated in the puddles. There are also metal grates through which you can see the storm drains below. “The idea behind that is purely just to remind the player often of how stacked the city is,” Rhodes says. “Wherever you’re standing, there’s guaranteed to be more below you and above you.”

One of BioWare’s core creative principles for The Veilguard is to create a world that’s actually worth saving – somewhere you can imagine wanting to stick around in, once the crises of the main quest are over. To that end, the team has looked to ground its outlandish environments with elements of mundanity.

“A guy’s normal everyday life walking down the streets of this city is more spectacular than what the queen of Orlais is seeing, at least in terms of sheer scale," Rhodes says. “One of the things we’ve tried to strike a balance with is that this is actually still a place where people have to go to the market and buy bread, raise their kids, and try to make it. It’s a grand and magical city, but how do you get your horses from one place to the next? Where do you load the barrels for the tavern? It’s really fun to think of those things simultaneously.”

Normal life in Minrathous is not yours to behold for long, however. Within a couple of minutes of your arrival, the very air is ripped open like cheap drapes, and flaming demons clatter through the merchant carts that line the city streets. A terrible magical ritual, through which Solas intends to stitch together a new reality, has begun.

“We wanted the prologue to feel like the finale of any other game we’ve done,” Busche explains. “Where it puts you right into this media-res attack on a city and gets you really invested in the action and the story right away. When I think back to Inquisition, how the sky was literally tearing open – the impact of this ritual really makes that look like a minor inconvenience.”

Our hero is confronted by a Pride demon, imposing and armored as in previous games, yet accented by exposed, bright lines that seem to burst from its ribcage. “They are a creature of raw negative emotion,” Busche says. “So we wanted to actually incorporate that into their visual design with this glowing nervous system.”

When a pack of smaller demons blocks Rook’s route to the plaza where Neve was last seen, battle breaks out, and The Veilguard’s greatest divergence from previous Dragon Age games becomes apparent. Our rogue protagonist flits between targets up close and evades individual sword swings with precision. In the chaos, he swaps back and forth between blades and a bow. He blends light and heavy attacks, and takes advantage of any gap in the melee to charge up even bigger blows.

“Responsiveness was our first-and-foremost goal with this baseline layer of the combat system,” Busche says. Unless you’re activating a high-risk, high-reward ability such as a charged attack, any action can be animation-cancelled, allowing you to abort a sword swing and dive away if an enemy lunges too close. “We very much wanted you to feel like you exist in this space, as you’re going through these really crafted, hand-touched worlds,” Busche says. “That you’re on the ground in control of every action, every block, every dodge.” Anyone who’s ever bounced off a Soulslike needn’t worry: The Veilguard’s highly customizable difficulty settings enable you to loosen up parry windows if they prove too demanding.

Gone is the overhead tactical camera which, for some players, was a crucial point of connection between Dragon Age and the Baldur’s Gate games that came before, tapping into a lineage of thoughtful, tabletop-inspired combat. Epler points out that the camera’s prior inclusion had an enormous impact on where the game’s battles took place. “We actually had a mandate on Inquisition, which was, ‘Don’t fight inside,’” he says. “The amount of extra work on getting that tactical camera to work in a lot of those internal environments, it was very challenging.”

Gone, too, is the ability to steer your comrades directly. “On the experiential side, we wanted you to feel like you are Rook – you’re in this world, you’re really focused on your actions,” Busche says. “We very much wanted the companions to feel like they, as fully realized characters, are in control of their own actions. They make their own decisions. You, as the leader of this crew, can influence and direct and command them, but they are their own people.”

It's an idea with merit, albeit one that could be read as spin. “It’s not lost on me,” Busche says. “I will admit that, on paper, if you just read that you have no ability to control your companions, it might feel like something was taken away. But in our testing and validating with players, what we find is they’re more engaged than ever.”

There may be a couple of reasons for that. One is that Dragon Age’s newly dynamic action leaves little room for seconds spent swapping between perspectives. “This is a much higher actions-per-minute game,” Busche says. “It is more technically demanding on the player. So when we tried allowing you full control of your companions as well, what we’ve found is it wasn’t actually adding to the experience. In fact, in some ways it was detrimental, given the demanding nature of just controlling your own character.”

Then there’s The Veilguard’s own tactical layer, as described by BioWare. Though the fighting might be faster and lower, like a mana-fuelled sports scar, the studio is keen to stress that the pause button remains as important to the action as ever. This is, according to Busche, where the RPG depth shines through, as you evaluate the targets you’re facing and take their buffs into account: “Matching elemental types against weaknesses and resistances is a big key to success in this game.”

You pick between rogue, warrior and mage – each role later splitting again into deeper specialisms – and draw from a class-specific resource during fights. A rogue relies on Momentum, which is built up by avoiding damage and being highly aggressive, whereas a warrior is rewarded for blocking, parrying, and mitigating damage.

Those resources are then used on the ability wheel, which pauses the game and allows you to consider your options. The bottom quadrant of the wheel belongs to your character, and is where three primary abilities will be housed. “Rook will also have access to runes, which function as an ability, and a special ultimate ability,” Busche says. “So you’re bringing five distinct abilities with you into combat.”

The sections to the left and right of the wheel, meanwhile, are dedicated to your companions. Busche points to Lace Harding, the returning rogue from Inquisition, who is currently frozen mid-jump. “She is her own realized individual in this game. She’s got her own behaviors: how she prioritizes targets, whether she gets up close and draws aggro or stays farther back at range. But you’ll be able to direct her in combat by activating her abilities from the wheel.”

These abilities are complemented by positional options at the top of the wheel, where you can instruct your companions to focus their efforts on specific targets, either together or individually. Doing so will activate the various buffs, debuffs and damage enhancements inherent in their weapons and gear. “So,” Busche explains, “as you progress through the first two hours of the game, this full ability wheel is completely populated with a variety of options and different tactics that you can then string together.”

BioWare has leaned into combos. You might tell one companion to unleash a gravity-well effect that gathers enemies together, then have another slow time. Finally, you could drop an AOE attack on your clustered and slowed opponents, dealing maximum damage. The interface will let you know when an opportunity to blend two companion abilities emerges – moments BioWare has dubbed ‘combo detonations’.

“I like to think about this strategic layer to combat as a huddle,” Busche says, “where you’re figuring out how you want to handle the situation, based on the information you have on the encounter, and how you and your companions synergize together.”

Deeper into the game, as encounters get more challenging, Epler says we’ll be spending a lot of time making “very specific and very focused tactical decisions”. The proof will be in eating the Fereldan fluffy mackerel pudding, of course, but Busche insists this shift to fast action isn’t a simplification. “What really makes the combat system and indeed the extension into the progression system work is that pause-and-play tactical element that we know our players expect.”

The autonomy of The Veilguard’s companions doesn’t end with combat. BioWare’s data shows that in previous games players tended to stick with the same two or three beloved comrades during a playthrough. This time, however, you’ll be forced to mix your squad up at regular intervals.

“We do expect that players will have favorites they typically want to adventure with,” Busche says, “but sometimes certain companions will be mandatory.” Others may not always be available – part of the studio’s effort to convince with three-dimensional characters. “They do have a life outside of Rook, the main character,” Busche says.

"They'll fall in love with people in this world. They’ve had past experiences they’ll share with you if you allow them in and get close to them.”

Being separated from your companions, rather than collecting them all in a kind of stasis at camp, allows you to stumble across them unexpectedly. Busche describes an instance in which, while exploring the Docktown section of Minrathous, you might bump into Neve as she investigates an abduction case. “If I go and interact with her, I can actually stop what I’m doing, pick up her arc and adventure with her throughout her part of the story,” Busche says. “What’s interesting is that all of the companion arcs do ultimately tie back to the themes of the main critical path, but they also have their own unique challenges and villains, and take place over the course of many different intimate moments.”

Some parts of a companion’s quest arc involve combat, while others don’t. Some are made up of large and meaningful missions – as lavish and involved as those along the critical path. “While they are optional, I would be hesitant to call them side content in this game,” Busche says. If you choose not to engage with some of these companion-centered events, they’ll resolve on their own. “And it might have interesting implications.”

The Veilguard promises plenty of change, then, even as it picks up the threads of fan-favorite characters and deepens them, honoring the decades of worldbuilding that came before it. This is perhaps the enduring and alluring paradox of Dragon Age: a beloved series which has never had a direct and immediate sequel, nor a recurring protagonist. Instead, it’s been reinvented with each new entry.

“It’s a mixed blessing to some degree,” Epler says. “The upside is always that it gives us more room to experiment and to try new things. There are parts of the series that are common to every game: it’s always an RPG, it’s always about characters, and we always want to have that strategic tactical combat where you’re forced to make challenging decisions. But at the end of the day, I think what makes Dragon Age Dragon Age is that each one feels a little bit different.”"

Q&A Matthew Rhodes Art director

Q. Early BioWare RPGs were literary, with the emotions and detail mostly happening in dialogue boxes. How have you seen the studio's approach to visual storytelling evolve? A. This has been my entire career. When I first showed up at BioWare, it was at the tail end of Jade Empire, and then I was working on Dragon Age: Origins and early Mass Effect. The games had taken that next step out of sprites and 2D models, and it was like: 'How do we say more? How do we communicate more clearly?' During those early days, a lot of games depended on words to fix everything for you. As long as your character was talking bombastically, you could lend them everything that they needed. But as time went on it also became a visual medium, and it's been this long journey of trying to establish art's seat at the table. I've worked with some great writers over the years, and art is also an essential part of the storytelling. From Dragon Age: Inquisition on, I've been trying to stress with my teams that we are a story department.

Q. Is part of that also letting writers know that your storytelling assistance is available, to help them show rather than tell? A. On The Veilguard, that principle has been operating the best I've seen it. Where you would need a paragraph of dialogue in one of those exposition moments where a character just talks to you, we could sell that with a broken statue or a skeleton overgrown with vines. We've had more opportunities to do that on The Veilguard than most of the projects I've ever worked on combined.

To a hammer, every problem looks like a nail, and so in every department, writing will try to solve it with more words, and art will try to solve it with more art. I've bumped up against moments where it's like, 'As much as we could keep hammering on this design, I think this is actually an audio solution.' And then you take it to audio, and you don't get that overcooked feeling where each team is just trying to solve it in their silo. It's a really creatively charged kind of environment.

[main body of article ends here]

Additional from throughout the article --

Image caption: “Spotlights shine down from the city guards’ base as they pursue you through the streets of Minrathous.”

Image caption: “While most of your companions can be sorted into comfortingly familiar RPG classes, The Veilguard introduces two new varieties: a Veil Jumper and a private investigator.”"

Image caption [on this Solas ritual concept art specifically]: “The name previously given to the game – Dreadwolf – was a direct reference to Solas. Your former companion, now on his own destructive mission, still features, despite the name change.”

Text in a side box:

"RATIONAL ANTHEM The hard lesson BioWare drew from Anthem was to play to its strengths. “We’re a studio that has always been built around digging deep on storytelling and roleplaying,” Epler says. “I’m proud of a lot of things on Anthem – I was on that project for a year and a half. But at the end of the day we were building a game focused on something we were not necessarily as proficient at. For me and for the team, the biggest lesson was to know what you’re good at and then double down on it. Don’t spread yourselves too thin. Don’t try to do a bunch of different things you don’t have the expertise to do. A lot of the people on this team came here to build a story-focused, singleplayer RPG."

Image caption: “In combat you no longer control your companions directly – this is a faster-paced form of fighting – but you are able to direct them in combat, and can even blend their abilities in ‘combo detonations’.”

Image caption: “You’ll be exploring new regions across Tevinter and beyond – Rivain is a certainty, and that’s only accessible via Antiva travelling overland.”

Image caption: “There are three specializations per character class; on the way to unlocking them you’ll acquire a range of abilities.”

Text in a side box:

"MEET YOUR MAKER “Full disclosure: Dragon Age has traditionally not done skin tones well, especially for people of color,” Busche says. “We wanted to do a make-good here.” In The Veilguard’s character creator, you can adjust the amount of melanin that comes through in the skin, as well as test various lighting scenarios to ensure your protagonist looks exactly as you intend in cutscenes. “Speaking of our first creative principle – be who you want to be – we really feel these are the kinds of features that unlock that for our players,” Busche says. “We want everyone to be able to see themselves in this game.” For the first time in the series, your body type is fully customizable too, with animations, armor and even romantic scenes reflecting your choices."

Image caption: “Your companions are a mix of old and new – Lace Harding is a familiar face. Veil Jumper Bellara is new, with a new occupation, while Davrin is a new face with a familiar profession – he’s a Warden.”

Image caption: "Arlathan Forest is home to the ruined city of the elves, now a place of wild magic, Veil Jumpers and (allegedly) spirits".

Image caption: "Bellara is driven by a desire to learn more about the elves, rediscovering the shattered history and magic of her people."

[source: Edge – The Future of Interactive Entertainment magazine, issue #401 (October 2024 issue) - it can be purchased online at [this link].]

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[kckt88]

A Dragon's Heart III

Summary:

As Aemond struggles cope in the wake of Viserra's departure he makes a confession to Alicent and Aegon confides in Rhaenyra.

Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Oral Sex, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Revelations, Referenced Character Death.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 8,600

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0

The atmosphere in Storm's End was thick with tension, the sombre weight of the funerals lingering like a storm cloud over the ancient castle.

The discussions regarding the succession had been heated, with various lords and ladies voicing their opinions on who should inherit Borros Baratheon’s seat.

The halls had echoed with disagreements—some advocating for Rhaegar, others for the unborn child Viserra carried, some for Cassandra or Maris. But none had found consensus, and the shadow of uncertainty loomed over the castle.

Rhaenyra and Daemon, their faces stern and resolute, had stayed behind after the ceremonies, not just to pay respects but to ensure that House Baratheon’s future was secured—and their own interests protected.

The arguments had been many, and Daemon’s temper had flared more than once, his hand often hovering dangerously close to the hilt of Dark Sister. 

In a private chamber, away from the prying eyes and ears of the castle, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Cassandra faced each other.

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent battle of wills playing out between the three of them.

Cassandra broke the silence first, her voice cold and biting. "I wonder what would the Lords of the realm think if they knew of Viserra's affair with the Queen's one-eyed brother? And that her children are really bastards?"

Daemon’s hand clenched around the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles whitening. The underlaying insult towards his daughter was almost more than he could bear, and it took all his restraint not to unsheathe his sword then and there.

Rhaenyra, sensing the rising tension, interjected calmly. "There is no need for anyone to know of anything, Lady Cassandra. We can keep this matter between us—if you agree to my terms."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed; suspicion etched into her features. "And what terms would those be?"

"In exchange for your continued silence, I will name you Lady of Storm’s End," Rhaenyra stated plainly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Furthermore, I will arrange a marriage between you and Lorian Tyrell and your firstborn child, regardless of their gender, shall be named the heir to Storm's End, plus I will lower your taxes for the next two years-"

Cassandra hesitated, the offer tempting but the bitterness of her loss still fresh. "And what of the murder of my father and sister? Am I to believe that justice will be served?”

Rhaenyra’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. "My council is investigating the incident, but as of yet, no conclusive evidence has been found."

Cassandra scoffed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "It’s obvious who the culprit is—Aemond. He had more to gain than anyone with my father out of the way. He’s now free to marry Viserra, and by that marriage, he will be the future King Consort."

Daemon let out a harsh, mocking laugh, the absurdity of the accusation too much for him to contain. "Aemond? Do you truly believe he had the means or the opportunity? He was never been absent from his duties. There were countless witnesses who can attest to that."

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. "The notion is ridiculous. Aemond wasn’t involved. His every movement is accounted for."

Cassandra opened her mouth to argue further, but Daemon, his patience finally worn thin, cut her off. "Enough. You will accept the Queen’s generous terms in exchange for your silence, or House Baratheon will burn."

As if on cue, the castle shook with the echoing roars of Caraxes and Syrax, their fury filling the air, a reminder of the power Daemon and Rhaenyra wielded.

Cassandra stiffened, her face paling as she realized the seriousness of the threat.

Glaring at Rhaenyra, Cassandra finally relented. "I accept your terms."

As Rhaenyra and Daemon turned to leave, Daemon paused, leaning in close to Cassandra, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Mind your tongue, Lady Cassandra. Speak ill of my daughter again, and you will regret it."

Cassandra swallowed hard, her defiance faltering under the weight of Daemon’s words. She watched silently as they left, the door closing behind them with a finality that left her feeling as though she had narrowly escaped a dragon’s maw.

Outside the chamber, Rhaenyra glanced at Daemon, her expression a mixture of relief and irritation. "Must you always resort to threats?"

Daemon smirked, unrepentant. "Only when it’s necessary, my love. Now can we leave this fucking castle"

"I think it best-" replied Rhaenyra.

"Do you think perhaps we could make a stop on our return journey to the Red Keep?" asked Daemon smirking.

"To what end valzȳrys?"  questioned Rhaenyra, as she straightened the golden crown on her head (Husband).

"I find myself wanting my wife-come ñuha idaña perzys. I know of an inn we can make use of" replied Daemon as he took Rhaenyra's hand and practically skipped his way back to where Caraxes and Syrax were waiting (My twin flame).

Another week had passed, and Aemond’s mood remained dark and volatile. The confirmation of Cassandra’s acceptance of Rhaenyra’s terms had brought little comfort; if anything, it only deepened his frustration.

Despite the successful negotiations, Viserra was still kept away on Dragonstone, and the distance gnawed at him, a constant, unbearable ache.

His frustration boiled over during a training session in the courtyard, Ser Erryk Cargyll had been his sparring partner that day, and things descended into chaos pretty quickly and it took three guards to drag Aemond off Ser Erryk before he nearly beat the man to death, leaving the seasoned knight bruised and bloodied on the ground.

After hearing about the attack, Alicent could no longer ignore the feeling of uncertainty that swirled in the pit of her stomach, she had grown increasingly concerned by Aemond’s behaviour and she needed to speak to him.

She found him the dimly lit library; the heavy silence of the room was only broken by the crackling of the fire.

Alicent approached him, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. "Aemond, we need to talk," she began, her voice firm but tinged with concern.

“About what?”

“I’m worried about you” replied Alicent

"I'm fine, Mother-" said Aemond not looking from the book in his hands.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "You are not fine. Your actions speak otherwise. Beating a knight nearly to death, avoiding your family—this is not you."

Aemond’s grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white. "I said I’m fine."

"Stop lying to me!" Alicent snapped, her voice rising with a mix of anger and desperation. "You're not fine, Aemond! You're falling apart, and I can see it as clearly as everyone else. You’ve always been the strong one, the composed one, but now-now you’re crumbling, and I don't understand why!"

Aemond’s control finally cracked, and he slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the library. "I can’t cope with being separated from Viserra any longer!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I need to see her, to feel her and I want my son!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Alicent’s eyes widened in shock, her hand trembling slightly as she processed his words. "Your-what?"

Aemond scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, come on, Mother. Don’t act so shocked. Deep down, you knew that Rhaegar is my son."

Alicent shook her head, her voice faltering. "No-no, that’s not true. He’s Borros’s son, you couldn’t—"

“I was the one who lost an eye; you have no excuse to be so blind!" Aemond interrupted, his voice cold and cutting.

Alicent’s shock quickly turned to anger, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you be so foolish, Aemond? To get involved with a married woman, to father a bastard—"

"Because I love her!" Aemond’s voice was loud, filled with a mix of pain and defiance. "I’ve always loved her"

Alicent stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and horror. "How long has this been going on?"

Aemond’s eyes were dark, filled with a storm of emotions. "Since the night of the Driftmark petition," he admitted, his voice low.

Alicent gasped, her face paling as the words sunk in. "You-you’re lying," she whispered, unwilling to believe it.

"I’m not," Aemond insisted, his voice steady. "-After the fight with Jacaerys, I followed her to her chambers, and I took her maidenhead. Then at Storms End after she offered her hand in marriage to Borros, I went to her room and spent the night fucking her. Then on her wedding day I fucked her before the ceremony, she spread her legs for me and it felt so good-"

Alicent’s hand flew out before she even realized what she was doing, the sharp crack of her slap echoing through the library.

"How dare you be so vulgar!" she spat, her voice shaking with fury and disbelief. "What happened to my dutiful son? The one who was always so perfect, so obedient?"

Aemond’s eye hardened, a cold smile playing at his lips. "I grew up" he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "I grew tired of being the perfect son who works for everything and receives nothing. So, I saw what I wanted, and I took it."

Alicent’s heart ached at his words, her mind reeling from the revelations. The son she thought she knew was slipping away from her, consumed by his love and obsession for Viserra.

"Aemond-" she began, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "This path you’re on, it will only lead to more pain. Please, think about what you’re doing."

Aemond’s expression didn’t waver. "I’ve thought about it more than you know, Mother. I will have Viserra and Rhaegar back, and no one will stand in my way."

With that, he turned and left the library, leaving Alicent standing there, her heart heavy with the weight of her son’s choices.

Aegon found Rhaenyra in her solar, the room lit softly by the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows. She was seated at a large wooden desk, a quill in hand, reviewing parchments with a furrowed brow.

He hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to begin. Rhaenyra glanced up, noticing his presence, and offered a small, polite smile. "Aegon," she greeted him, setting the quill down. "What brings you here?"

Aegon stepped inside, his usual bravado replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. "I need to talk to you. It’s about Aemond."

Rhaenyra’s expression grew more concerned, her attention fully focused on him. "What about him?"

Aegon sighed, running a hand through his silver hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. "He’s not doing well. The separation from Viserra and Rhaegar-it’s tearing him apart."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her gaze searching. "Yes. I’ve noticed his temper has been worse lately”

"It’s more than that," Aegon replied, his voice strained. "Aemond’s losing his mind. Granted he’s always been intense, but this-this is different. He’s on the edge, and I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t do something."

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, considering his words. "I sent Viserra and Rhaegar to Dragonstone for their safety and to quell the rumours”.

Aegon shook his head, his tone more urgent. "I understand that, but Aemond can’t cope without them. He’s never known what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. Our mother, for all her attempts to be a good mother, isn’t as loving or nurturing as she should’ve been-"

"Aegon" whispered Rhaenyra.

"-Aemond has spent his life trying to prove himself, to earn love that should have been freely given. Viserra-she’s the first person who made him feel like he was worth something, that he was deserving of love. She completes him in a way no one else can."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she listened, her heart heavy with the truth in Aegon’s words. "I never realized-"

Aegon pressed on, his voice thick with emotion. "Aemond is falling apart without her. He’s been isolated and unloved for so long that when he finally found someone who loves him as deeply as Viserra does, it became everything to him. Without her, he’s lost."

Rhaenyra’s gaze dropped to the parchment in front of her, her fingers tracing the edges absently. "But the scandal—"

"Scandal be damned!" Aegon interrupted, his voice rising with frustration. "Aemond deserves to be happy! He deserves to have the love that’s been denied him his whole life. It’s too late for me—" He paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "—but not for Aemond. He has a chance to have what I’ll never have. Please I beg you sister, don’t take that away from him."

Rhaenyra’s heart clenched at his words, the raw emotion in his voice piercing through her own concerns.

She had seen Aemond’s growing instability, but hearing Aegon’s plea, the way he laid bare Aemond’s pain and longing, struck a chord within her.

She nodded slowly, her resolve softening. "I never wanted to hurt him, Aegon. I just wanted to protect them all"

"I know," Aegon replied quietly, stepping closer to her. "But keeping them apart is causing more harm than good. If Aemond is kept away from Viserra and Rhaegar any longer, he’s going to have some kind of breakdown. And when that happens-I’m not sure if anyone will be able to bring him back."

Rhaenyra let out a long breath, the weight of Aegon’s words settling heavily on her shoulders.

She looked up at him, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, the desperate hope that she would listen and act before it was too late.

"I’ll send for them," she finally said, her voice soft but firm. "Viserra and Rhaegar can return to the Red Keep”

Aegon’s expression softened with relief, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Thank you. You’re doing the right thing."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already racing with the arrangements that needed to be made. "I hope this will be enough to bring him back from the edge."

"It will," Aegon assured her. "Viserra’s love will be enough."

As Aegon left the solar, Rhaenyra sat quietly, the decision she had just made echoing in her mind. She hoped, for Aemond’s sake, that it would be the right one.

Aemond stormed into his chambers, his mood as dark as the night outside. The maid who had been tidying up startled at his entrance, quickly bowing her head.

Before she could offer any words of welcome, Aemond snapped, "Leave. NOW!" His tone left no room for argument.

The maid quickly gathered her things and hurried out of the room, the heavy door closing behind her with a muted thud.

Alone at last, Aemond began to strip off his armour, piece by piece.

The chest plate, the pauldrons, the vambraces, all discarded with little care, until he stood bare in the dim candlelight.

He wrenched off his eyepatch and moved to the basin where a bath had been drawn earlier, the water still warm. He sank into it, letting the heat seep into his tired bones.

For a moment, he closed his eye, trying to shut out the world, trying to wash away the frustration and anger that clung to him like a second skin.

After the bath, Aemond dried himself off and dressed in a loose cotton tunic and sleep pants. He glanced at the food tray the maid had left behind, his stomach growling faintly. He picked at the food, eating only enough to quiet the gnawing hunger before pushing the tray aside.

He tried to settle down with a book, one of the many he had collected over the years, hoping to lose himself in its pages.

But the words blurred before his eye, his thoughts too tangled to focus. The strain in his eye worsened, a dull headache forming at the base of his skull.

With a frustrated sigh, he snapped the book shut and tossed it aside.

He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing despite his exhaustion. His thoughts inevitably drifted to Viserra and Rhaegar.

How he missed them. The emptiness in his chest was like a gaping wound, one that no amount of duty or distraction could heal. He felt foolish for being so consumed by it, for feeling so dependent on their presence, but he couldn’t help it. They were his world, and without them, he was lost.

He thought back to the older women he had bedded before Viserra and he realised that whilst they may have taught him how to pleasure a woman, he himself had never experienced true pleasure until he was with Viserra.

The sex with the women felt good at the time, but after it always left him feeling hollow and empty to the point where he thought something was wrong with him, seven knows Aegon offered bragged about his conquests and the delights of the women he bedded, or sometimes the men if his drunken ramblings were anything to go by.

Aemond never truly understood it until Viserra. Fucking her was euphoric, and it always left him wanting more, no matter how many times he sheathed himself inside her, it was this feral need inside of him to possess her at all times.

Daemon told him that Targaryen's would often call to their own, their dragon's blood singing for one another. Maybe that's what is was.

Was it the reason why Daemon was so insistant in his pursuit of Rhaenyra, and why they would often be seen sneaking off somehwere, but then why wasn't Aegon or any of the others like that?

Did it only affect certain Targaryen's or did finding their perfect mate awaken something inside of them?

As he lay there, his thoughts began to spiral. What if something happened to them? What if Viserra fell ill again on Dragonstone, and he wasn’t there to protect her? The thoughts gnawed at him, feeding his anxiety until finally, exhaustion began to pull him under.

His heavy eyelid drooped, and he surrendered to sleep, hoping it would bring him some peace.

But peace was not to be found. His dreams were vivid, almost cruel in their clarity. He dreamt of Viserra and Rhaegar, holding them close, feeling their warmth, their love. For a brief moment, he was content. But then, it twisted into something darker.

He saw Viserra, her face pale and frightened, Rhaegar crying in her arms. Aemond tried to reach them, but his feet were stuck, as if rooted to the ground. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t move.

And then Borros Baratheon appeared, his face twisted into a grotesque mockery of life, his dead eyes gleaming with malice.

He wrapped a hand around Viserra’s throat, squeezing as he dragged her into the darkness. 

Rhaegar’s cries for his mother echoed in his ears, desperate and filled with fear. Aemond fought against his invisible restraints, but it was no use.

Just as the nightmare seemed to reach its peak, Aemond suddenly felt a soft touch on his cheek. His heart stuttered as he heard a sweet, familiar voice.

"ñuha jorrāelagon" (My love).

He opened his eye, the nightmare dissolving into nothingness. Before him, sitting on the edge of his bed, were Viserra and Rhaegar.

Viserra’s hand was still on his cheek, her touch warm and real.

Rhaegar, with his bright eyes and innocent smile, threw his little arms around Aemond’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Kepa” exclaimed Rhaegar (Father).

Aemond sat up, shock and disbelief warring within him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked, his voice hoarse, afraid to believe what his senses were telling him.

Viserra smiled softly. "No, my love. We’re real and we’re home."

Aemond woke late in the morning, sunlight filtering through the thick curtains of his chamber.

He glanced down and saw Rhaegar, fast asleep, snuggled up to him with one hand curled against his chest.

A tender smile tugged at Aemond’s lips as he watched his son, peaceful and content in his slumber.

A faint rustling caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Viserra sitting at the table, absentmindedly picking at the breakfast foods that had been delivered while he was still asleep.

Her hand rested gently on the small swell of her stomach, a sight that made Aemond’s heart skip a beat. He couldn’t tear his eye away from her—Gods, how beautiful she was.

Even in the simplicity of the morning, with her silver hair loose and her expression relaxed, she was a vision of grace and love.

Noticing that he was awake, Viserra looked up and met his gaze. A soft smile spread across her face. “You looked like you needed sleep, so I didn’t want to wake you,” she said quietly, her voice laced with warmth.

Aemond carefully detached himself from Rhaegar, ensuring the boy remained undisturbed, and slipped out of bed.

He crossed the room in a few strides, his focus entirely on Viserra. When he reached her, he bent down and kissed her passionately, pouring all the longing and relief of the past weeks into that single, fervent embrace.

"I’ve missed you," he whispered against her lips, his hand cupping her cheek.

Viserra smiled, her hand coming up to rest over his. “I missed you too,” she murmured back.

Aemond’s gaze dropped to her stomach, his fingers following. He placed his hand gently over the small bump, his touch reverent.

“It’s only been a few weeks” muttered Aemond.

 “I know-” replied Viserra softly.

“Mayhaps there’s more than one babe” whispered Aemond.

“Don’t even joke about that” said Viserra.

Aemond laughed softly before he leaned in and kissed her again, a tender kiss full of love and gratitude.

Then, an idea seemed to occur to him, and he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Stand up for a moment,” he requested.

Viserra raised an eyebrow, curious but obliging. She stood, and Aemond took her place on the chair, patting his knee invitingly. “Come, sit,” he said, his tone serious despite the playful request.

Viserra let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly. “You can’t be serious,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Aemond met her gaze with unwavering intensity. “I’m deadly serious.”

Still laughing softly, Viserra gave in and sat down in his lap. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close as he pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

It was a sensation he had longed for, missed more than anything else in the world.

“Never leave me again,” he muttered against her ear, his voice rough with emotion.

Viserra turned her head slightly, resting it against his. “I won’t,” she promised softly.

Aemond held Viserra close, his arms wrapped securely around her as he pressed a flurry of soft kisses across her face—on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Each kiss was a whispered promise, a declaration of the depth of his longing. He breathed in her scent, letting it fill his senses, and leaned in to murmur in her ear, “What if I don’t attend to my duties today? What if we just stay here, shut away from the rest of the world?”

Viserra laughed, the sound warm and soothing, like a balm to his soul. “As tempting as that is,” she replied, her voice laced with affection, “I have matters to discuss with my mother, and I promised Rhaegar that he could play with Jaehaerys today.”

Aemond pouted slightly, the image of the two of them alone and undisturbed still lingering in his mind.

But Viserra placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin as she assured him, “We won’t be far from one another. And mayhaps tonight, Rhaegar can sleep in his own chambers, and we can have some time alone.”

He caught the mischievous glint in her eye, the subtle suggestion in her words, and his heart quickened. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Viserra’s smile widened as she nodded in agreement. “It was torture without your touch,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I spent many nights longing for you-my fingers never satisfying me same way yours do”

Aemond’s lips found hers again, a deep, passionate kiss that sent a surge of arousal through him.

He was lost in the feel of her against him, until a knock at the door broke through the haze of their shared desire.

Aemond growled softly, annoyed at the interruption. “What is it?” he called out, his voice tinged with frustration.

Ser Erryk’s voice came through the door, cautious and formal. “My Prince, I was concerned as you are late to attend your duties as Commander of the City Watch.”

Aemond huffed, reluctantly pulling back from Viserra. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m able,” he replied, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “I slept late.”

Viserra chuckled softly as she adjusted herself in his lap. “It’s just as well we were interrupted,” she teased, her fingers brushing his hair away from his face. “It wouldn’t do to indulge in our desires with Rhaegar still in the room.”

Aemond couldn’t help but smile at her words, leaning into whisper in her ear, “Tonight.”

Viserra nodded, her eyes sparkling with the promise of what was to come. “Tonight,” she echoed softly, sealing the agreement with a gentle kiss.

Alicent stood at the edge of the garden, her hands clasped before her as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

The sunbathed the Red Keep’s gardens in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow on the vivid green of the grass and the delicate colours of the flowers in bloom.

Viserra was sat beside Helaena on a wooden bench, their heads close together as they spoke quietly, occasionally breaking into gentle laughter.

Nearby, Rhaegar was running across the lawn, his small legs carrying him after Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their high-pitched giggles filling the air.

Maelor sat contentedly beside his mother, playing with his toys, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The sounds of children’s laughter echoed through the garden, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city beyond the walls.

Alicent allowed herself a rare moment of peace, letting the joyful sounds wash over her. For a brief moment, it felt as though the weight she had carried for so many years had been lifted.

There had been a time when such a scene seemed impossible. The realm had been on the brink of war, sister against brother, a brutal fight for a crown that now rested on Rhaenyra’s head.

Her father Otto had been so certain that Rhaenyra’s reign would mean the end for them all. He had warned her that Rhaenyra would demand Aegon’s execution, that she would call for the blood of her children to secure her succession.

But Rhaenyra had proven him wrong. She had been merciful, more than Alicent had ever imagined possible. Aegon had been spared, and so had her other children. And now, there was a sort of unity among them—a fragile peace that had taken root, nourished by the passage of time.

Alicent’s gaze drifted to Rhaegar, who had just tackled Jaehaerys to the ground in a fit of laughter. The boy’s silvery hair gleamed in the sunlight, and Alicent’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions.

Rhaegar was Aemond’s son—her grandson. How had she not seen it before? The resemblance was undeniable. The sharp features, the intense gaze, even at such a young age.

He was his father’s son in every way that mattered.

Aemond’s choices had pained her deeply. His involvement with Viserra had been a scandal, one that Alicent had struggled to accept.

The son she had raised to be dutiful and restrained had acted out of passion and desire, entangling himself in a web that could never truly be undone. But now, looking at Rhaegar, Alicent saw beyond the mistakes, beyond the scandal.

She saw a future, a legacy. Rhaegar was a bridge between two worlds—between the blacks and the greens, between her son and Rhaenyra’s daughter. He was proof that something good could come from the chaos, that there was hope for a future.

Alicent sighed softly, her heart heavy with the complexity of it all. She had been a fool not to see it sooner, to recognize the bond between Aemond and Viserra, to see Rhaegar for who he truly was.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she continued to watch, feeling a warmth in her chest that had been absent for far too long.

For now, she would hold on to this moment, to the sound of children’s laughter, and to the hope that the future might be kinder to them all.

Later that evening, Aemond sat tall on his horse, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands as he looked down at Viserra, who was standing beside him with a curious smile.

With one smooth motion, he reached down and offered his hand to her. She took it, and he effortlessly pulled her up into the saddle behind him.

As she settled into place, her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his back. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice filled with playful curiosity.

Aemond glanced over his shoulder at her, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone teasingly mysterious.

With a gentle nudge, Aemond urged the horse into a trot. “Open the gates!” he called out, his voice commanding as they approached the main gates of the Red Keep.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and the horse moved smoothly out onto the cobbled streets of King’s Landing.

As they left the bustling city behind, the sounds of the market and the chatter of the people faded away, replaced by the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves on the ground.

Viserra tightened her hold on him, feeling the warmth of his body through his leathers. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the moment—the freedom and the closeness.

The road soon gave way to a grassy meadow, Aemond guided the horse through the tall grass until they reached the centre of the meadow, where Vhagar and Vermithor were resting side by side, their eyes following the approaching pair.

Aemond brought the horse to a stop and dismounted first. He then turned and extended his hand to Viserra, helping her down from the saddle. Once her feet were on the ground, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

“I thought we could use some time away,” Aemond said softly, his hand still holding hers as they stood before the dragons. “Just us. Somewhere we can be together without the world watching.”

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“Helaena has agreed to watch Rhaegar for the night,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

 “That was good of her-”replied Viserra, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” said Aemond.

With a determined nod, Viserra turned toward Vermithor and began the familiar climb up the rope ladder to the dragon’s saddle.

She moved carefully, the small swell of her belly making the climb a bit more challenging than usual. Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

Aemond, standing at Vhagar’s side, noticed her hesitation. “Are you alright?” he called up to her, concern lacing his voice.

Viserra glanced down at him and gave a reassuring smile. “I’m fine,” she replied, determined to reach the saddle.

With renewed effort, she continued her climb until she finally settled into Vermithor’s saddle, securing herself with the straps.

Aemond watched her closely, only mounting Vhagar once he was sure she was safely seated. He climbed the ladder with the ease of long practice, settling into the saddle with a sense of anticipation.

Turning his head, he caught Viserra’s gaze and gave her a small nod. “Follow me,” he said, his voice carrying over the wind.

Viserra took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she felt Vermithor shift beneath her. The powerful dragon roared, his massive wings unfurling as he prepared to take flight.

Vhagar was already in the air, her enormous wings slicing through the sky as she ascended.

Not one to be outdone, Vermithor followed, launching himself into the air with a thunderous roar that echoed across the landscape.

The two dragons flew side by side, the sensation of flying together, of being so high above the world, sent a thrill through Viserra. She could feel the exhilaration in her veins, her dragon’s blood singing with delight as the wind whipped through her hair.

Beside her, Aemond was similarly enthralled, the tension of the past weeks momentarily forgotten as they soared through the skies.

After an hour of glorious flight, the dragons began to descend, circling a secluded spot near the river Wendwater. The area was serene, far from the prying eyes of court and the pressures of duty.

The dragons landed gracefully on the soft sand near the riverbank, their wings folding as they settled down.

Viserra carefully unfastened the straps and began her descent down Vermithor’s ladder. Once her feet touched the ground, she looked around, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The peacefulness of the river, combined with the rustling of leaves in the trees, created an atmosphere of calm that contrasted sharply with the bustling life of the Red Keep.

She didn’t have to wait long before Aemond joined her, landing beside her with a soft thud. He smiled as he took her hand, their fingers interlocking effortlessly.

Without a word, he led her toward a tent nestled among the trees, its entrance partially hidden by the thick canopy above. The tent was simple yet inviting, a small sanctuary away from the demands of their world.

Aemond held the tent flap open for Viserra, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped inside. The interior was cozy, with furs and blankets spread across the floor.

It was a space meant for them, a place where they could be themselves without the weight of crowns and expectations.

“Is this where you and Aegon disappeared off to earlier?” asked Viserra.

“Possibly” replied Aemond smiling.

“I think it’s wonderful”

Aemond gently pulled Viserra into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Tonight, it’s just us,” he whispered, his voice full of promise and affection.

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart full as she leaned into his embrace. “Just us,” she echoed softly, feeling the tension of the past weeks melt away.

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to Viserra's lips, his touch filled with reverence and longing. "I want to make love to my wife amongst the stars," he whispered against her lips, his voice full of desire and affection.

Viserra's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Then let's do just that," she replied softly, her heart fluttering in her chest.

Aemond nodded, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her face before reluctantly pulling away.

“Wait here,” he said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Viserra watched him go, her hands resting protectively on the small swell of her stomach, feeling the life that grew within her.

It wasn’t long before Aemond returned, his arms laden with wood for the fire. He dropped the bundle onto the ground not far from the tent’s entrance, his movements efficient yet filled with purpose.

Turning toward Vhagar, who watched them with keen eyes, he gave the command with a firm voice. “Dracarys.”

Vhagar, ever obedient, opened her massive maw and unleashed a stream of fire onto the wood.

The flames roared to life instantly, crackling and snapping as they devoured the dry branches. Aemond chuckled, waving his arms to ward off the intense heat.

"Little enthusiastic on the fire there, old girl," he commented, his voice light with amusement.

Viserra couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, her laughter filling the air with a melody that Aemond found irresistible.

There was no sweeter sound in the world than her laughter, a sound that resonated in his soul and made him feel more alive than he ever had.

As the fire settled into a warm, steady burn, Aemond turned his gaze back to Viserra. She stood near the tent, bathed in the soft glow of the firelight.

Her braided silver hair shimmered like moonlight against the backdrop of the darkening sky. She was dressed in her riding leathers, the familiar outfit clinging to her form, accentuating the slight swell of her stomach.

That small curve was a constant reminder that she carried his child, their second, and the knowledge filled him with a fierce, possessive pride, his blood growing hot under his skin.

Aemond’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, his pulse quickening with each step he took toward her. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfect in every way.

The firelight danced across her features, highlighting the softness of her expression, the curve of her lips, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She was his—completely, undeniably his—and the arousal that surged within him was impossible to contain.

With a predator's grace, Aemond stalked toward her, his single eye dark with desire. Each step was deliberate, filled with purpose, as he closed the distance between them.

The fire crackled behind him, casting long shadows across the ground, but all he could see was her—his wife, his love, the mother of his children.

As he reached her, Aemond wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. His hands were firm yet gentle as they slid down her back, feeling the warmth of her body through the leather of her riding clothes.

He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, pouring all his love and longing into the connection. He kissed her with an intensity that left them both breathless, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the heat of her body against his.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with need. “I want you, Viserra. I need you.” His hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his desire almost unbearable.

Viserra’s breath hitched as she felt the heat of his arousal against her, her own body responding to his touch. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Then take me, Aemond,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desire.

Aemond backed Viserra towards the entrance of the tent, their hands pulling at each other’s riding leather’s, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he placed his hands on her shoulders and encouraged her to lay on the heap of fur blankets.

He gently covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Viserra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her breasts, his tongue taking turns to swirl around her rosy nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to fill with milk-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face into the soft pillowy mounds.

“Me either” replied Viserra softly, she knew Aemond enjoyed tasting her mother’s milk, but she enjoyed the closeness and also the relief he would give her, as nursing often left her full and sore.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself and pressed a series of gentle kisses to the swell of her stomach.

“T-t-tickles” laughed Viserra as the ends of Aemond’s long silver hair swept across her skin.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond” gasped Viserra as she felt him move lower.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her before he ran the flat of his tongue up Viserra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Viserra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Viserra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Viserra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Viserra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Viserra; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Viserra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Viserra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” whispered Viserra as she writhed against him (Please my love).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and sheathed his hard cock into Viserra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“That’s it, take all of me” moans Aemond as he begins to move.

Viserra can’t think of anything but the deep penetrating thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond wanted to fuck her hard, but he knows he can’t, he doesn’t want to harm the babe.

But she’s testing his restraint as he feels her clenching around him.

“YES! YES! AEMOND! I CAN TAKE IT. HARDER. PLEASE” screams Viserra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond.

Aemond lifts Viserra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock a little harder into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Viserra.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Viserra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Viserra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the soft fur blankets.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Viserra.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Viserra as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand taking his cock and sheathing himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Viserra arched her back and screamed as Aemond thrust into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the air.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond, his fingers still curling inside her.

“P-Please. Valzȳrys” whimpered Viserra (Husband).

Aemond removed his fingers and grasped hold of her hips, thrusting a little faster then he was before, his stomach muscles tensing.

He then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he slowly pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his sweaty chest.

Aemond held Viserra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me Issa zaldrīzes” pleaded Viserra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder (My dragon).

“Give me another-come for me again” whispered Aemond as he slid his hand under the swell of her stomach and used his long fingers to stroke her pearl.

“Oh-yes-oh” moaned Viserra as her peak suddenly erupted, her hands tangling in Aemond’s hair as she pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid on the blankets.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Viserra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Viserra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it ñuha nūmio, take it. Take all of me” (My pearl).

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Viserra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

Viserra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt another climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Viserra.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-” babbled Viserra as he moved her back onto the ground his cock never leaving her warmth as he moved inside her, chasing his own end.

“God. I love you- I love you-” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The morning sun cast a soft, golden light over the quiet landscape as Viserra stirred from her slumber.

Her hand instinctively reached out to the space beside her, but instead of finding Aemond, she was met with the cool, empty fur blankets.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon" she murmured softly as she pulled a blanket around her naked body and rose from the warmth of their bed (My love).

Stepping out of the tent, she noticed that fresh wood had been added to the fire, the flames crackling merrily in the early morning chill.

"Aemond?" she called out, her voice carrying through the still air.

Viserra scanned the area, her eyes falling on the slumbering form of Vhagar, whose massive breaths disturbed the loose sand around her. Vermithor, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Just as she was about to call out again, a sudden shadow loomed over her. Viserra barely had time to react before a heavy thud echoed through the air, and the body of a dead stag dropped to the ground in front of her, its blood spraying across her face and chest.

She screamed in shock, stumbling back as she tried to wipe the blood from her face.

Vermithor landed gracefully beside Vhagar, trilling affectionately as he folded his wings. Viserra grimaced, still wiping the blood from her skin, and shot a glare at her dragon.

"Thanks for that," she muttered dryly, and Vermithor cooed in response, as if proud of his offering. Vhagar, unimpressed by the disturbance, opened one eye, huffed in annoyance, and promptly returned to her slumber.

Aemond emerged from the sea just as Viserra was recovering from the shock, his naked body glistening with seawater as he approached her with a carefree smile.

"Aren't you a sight," he teased, laughter dancing in his eye as he took in her blood-splattered appearance.

Viserra scoffed, still a little rattled. "I guess Vermithor thought we needed feeding,"

Aemond chuckled, nodding in agreement. "He's not wrong. It's not good for you or the babe to go without food for much longer," he remarked, glancing at the dead animal "A stag, how fitting."

Viserra nodded, her initial shock fading as she found herself smiling at the situation. With a playful shrug, she let the blanket slip from her shoulders, revealing her bare form to the morning light.

She couldn't help but laugh as she noticed the way Aemond suddenly stopped what he was doing, his gaze fixed on her, captivated by the sight.

She blew him a kiss, enjoying the effect she had on him, and turned toward the sea. The water was cold but refreshing as she waded in, washing away the blood and grime from her skin. The chill was invigorating, waking her senses and leaving her feeling renewed.

When she returned to the camp, Aemond had moved the stag a safe distance from the tent. A large slab of meat now hung over the fire, cooking slowly.

"I didn't know you could cook," Viserra remarked, her tone light as she joined him by the fire.

Aemond grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he offered her another blanket "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents," he replied, his voice laced with that familiar confidence.

"Indeed, you are," Viserra agreed, leaning in to kiss him gently.

After finishing their meal, Viserra and Aemond sat close together, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Viserra rested her head on Aemond's shoulder, feeling utterly content.

But then, the tranquil atmosphere was interrupted by the first few drops of rain. They hit the ground softly at first, then more rapidly, until the rain began to pour down in earnest.

Viserra glanced up at the sky, expecting Aemond to suggest retreating to the tent, but instead, he stood and held out his hand.

“Dance in the rain with me,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“There’s no music-”

“We can make our own” whispered Aemond.

Viserra hesitated for only a moment, the warmth of the blanket tempting her to stay put. But the look in Aemond’s eye was irresistible, and she found herself smiling as she abandoned the blanket and took his hand.

The rain drenched them both as they moved together, their naked bodies swaying in the downpour.

They giggled like children, spinning and twirling, water streaming down their faces and bodies.

The cool rain on their heated skin was exhilarating, and they pressed kisses to each other’s wet faces, tasting the sweetness of the rain mixed with their shared laughter.

Then, without warning, Aemond stopped. He slowly descended onto one knee; his eye full of emotion as he placed his forehead against Viserra's swollen stomach.

The rain continued to fall around them, but it seemed like time itself had paused.

“Marry me” Aemond whispered, his voice low and filled with longing.

Viserra’s heart skipped a beat. “We’re already married,” she replied softly, her hand resting gently on his head.

“Yes,” Aemond agreed, looking up at her with intensity. “In the ways of Old Valyria. But after our babe is born, I want to wed you in the eyes of the Seven. I want the realm to see that you are mine and I am yours.”

Viserra’s eyes filled with tears, though whether from the rain or emotion, she couldn’t tell. “Yes-I’ll marry you” she said, her voice trembling with happiness.

“Y-Yes?” questioned Aemond.

“Yes-yes-yes” exclaimed Viserra.

Aemond stood swiftly, pulling her into a passionate kiss as the rain continued to pour down on them, soaking them both.

The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

But then, the rain abruptly stopped.

They broke their kiss and looked up to see that Vhagar had extended her wing over them, shielding them from the rain.

The mighty beast huffed affectionately, her huge eyes watching them with a surprising gentleness.

“You big softie,” Aemond laughed, looking up at his dragon with affection.

“Just like her rider,” Viserra teased, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I say we change that,” he said, taking Viserra’s hand and guiding it to his already half hard cock.

Viserra laughed, her voice a soft melody in the quiet of the night. “You’re insatiable,” she murmured, though her tone was full of affection.

“Only when it comes to you, my darling,” Aemond replied, his voice husky with desire.

[leggerefiore]

cw: 18+ content, afab reader, breeding kink, talk of pregnancy, Volo being himself

pairing: Volo/Reader

Minors DNI

You groaned as you were pushed against the sheets of the futon. Pleasure coursed through your veins like a liquid electricity. Everything felt like far too distant from you while also being all-consuming. Your thighs were wrapped around the waist of the merchant as he drilled into you. His expression was intense – Grey eyes entirely focused on you as his long hair hung down almost like a veil. His bun had come undone somewhere in the mess.

Why had he come here? You had not expected to see him ever again after the situation on Mount Coronet. In fact, you had been quite sure that he despised you, yet here he was fucking you senseless. A cry left your throat, but his hand came to silence you – Not wanting anyone to hear and come investigate. You weakly tried to pull away his hand, but his strength was something else. Your walls clamped down on him as his dick hit your cervix. He grinned down at you maliciously. The pounding of your heart in your chest was maddening. He brought his other hand to rest on your lower abdomen – right above a certain organ. You swallowed.

“… You have taken everything from me,” his voice was low and ominous – a hint of strain was present. “You wanted to make up, right? You begged me not to go. Well, I have a way you can make it up to me, chosen one.” The pleasure mixed strangely with the apprehensive terror in your veins. “I don't want the blood of the ancient people of Sinnoh to end.” His thrusts felt so meaningful now, and his hand massaged your womb. You swallowed dryly despite the drool escaping out the corner of your mouth. “You'll help me, right? Didn't you want to help me?” Every rut of his hip into you made drew more and more pleasure out of you. Your hands grasped onto his arm. His hand was still over your mouth.

A chuckle left him as you tightened around him even more at these words. Part of you wanted to deny his claims, but… But you could not deny what you felt for the blond. Despite everything… Despite the manipulation and even attack on your life – You loved Volo. You wanted Volo. Having a family with him… You managed finally to get his hand off your mouth.

“P-please, Volo!” you begged. His eyes narrowed. Apparently, he wanted to hear more than a simple plea. His thrusts slowed, and you shook your head. You were so close. “G-give me a baby,” the words felt strange leaving your lips – you really should just hate him. “I-I'll help continue your bloodline!” Suddenly, his hips slammed against your own harshly. His hand took your wrists and pinned them above your head as he fucked into you harshly. The hand previously massaging you came to rub your clit with some expert knowledge – driving you further to the edge. A tight coil spun into something painful before finally snapping. You came with a loud cry.

Yet, Volo's cruelty apparently knew no bounds as he kept his harsh pace to fuck you through your orgasm. Writhing under him, your toes curled painfully. He watched your reactions with a malicious intent, clearly enjoying overstimulating you. Your cries and moans were nothing but a precious song to him. Yet, he was still a human. Volo found himself hitting you with one final thrust before cumming deep inside of you, cock head pressed flush to your womb. The warmth inside of you made your body shake.

He laid atop you for a moment. Both of you a pile of limbs and panting breaths. Your freed arms came to wrap around his neck, holding him tightly. Despite everything – You really loved him. Genuinely. It was painful. Whenever he finally regained himself, you half expected him to raise up and leave you to never show his face again.

Yet, that was not what followed. With him still buried inside you, you felt his cock begin to harden again. Grey eyes stared down at you intensely.

“… We have to make certain, no?” His hands came to hold your hips. You swallowed. It seemed your night would be long and exhausting.

Volo had no intention of leaving you.

[yanmuffins]

wait, I didn't realize nobody did a bruce scenario?? He's so easy to make perplexed- imagine bruce is on like day 2 of no sleep for a case and he walks into the Batcave to find vampire!reader with their fangs in a bloodbag (the ones for when the batfam is bleeding out and needs a transfusion) while the rest of their mouth is just. covered entirely in blood and empty bags are scattered around them- it's just that one prolonged eye contact sound until reader finishes the bag and just. finger guns at bruce and slowly walks away while bruce continues to stare. later when he has more sleep bruce will ask about it and get gaslit into thinking he was just more tired then he thought and hallucinated

context &. context.

i love the silly takes on batfam’s reaction on vampire! reader being weird and suspicious and straight up drinking human blood in front of them, cause the fic itself won’t be having it. unfortunately vampire! reader does not share the same cosmic comedic luck p&f! reader is blessed with so she’s gonna have to deal with the the horrors. also, i didn’t even consider batcave blood bags before!

but the image of bruce just standing there, dumbfounded, staring at all the empty blood bags and the culprit (his own daughter!) right in front of him, drinking human blood in a way that can’t be excused or explained— straight out of a horror movie, and so is the gaslighting that comes after. bruce wakes up in the next morning, only to see reader looking and acting normal. he’s sure it must be sleep-deprivation, his mind playing tricks on him. if it’s a particularly gruesome case he’s investigating, it makes sense he would have a disturbing hallucination like that. but he asks vampire! reader if they were in the batcave yesterday. no mention of the blood bags. she gives him a picture-perfect smile and says no, how silly! she rarely goes in the batcave. he accepts this. he even feels a bit of relief, though it’s nonsensical for him to have even entertained the idea.

until,

“hey, bruce” dick calls out, “did we run out of blood bags? they’re all gone.”

bruce can feel his heart dropping again.

[taylorsburner]

Good Mornin'

✧Summary✧ Billy wakes up early to take care of your baby boy and prepares a sweet surprise for his wife for a cozy morning in bed.

a/n: this is my first Billy fic so I hope y’all like it. it's just something cute and fluffy🫶🏾

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown, leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan. ….. Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you.

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.

Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown,  leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan.

❃❃❃❃

Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you. 

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips. 

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

The three of you end up spending the rest of your morning in bed, too wrapped up in each other to even bother doing anything else.

Request new stuff here♡

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome back everyone! Here we are season 2 of My Adventures with Superman! What a fantastic first two episodes and as usual they're full of fun Easter eggs which I will point out and explain to those who aren't familiar so you can be in the know with the comics book readers! My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen it

I might be reading too much into it but maybe this is a subtle reference to the Adventures with Superman comic title or it could just be a complimentary episode title to My Adventures with Superman. Who knows.

The episode starts with Waller waking up getting ready for her day (shout out to Waller's daily affirmations btw) and she goes down to meet Sam Lane, Lois's father who I talked about here.

Nice call back to Season 1 Episode 3 when Lois and Clark break into Stryker's Island again and entering into Siobhan McDougal's cell again but this time going under the island's jail to Task Force X secret operations. I talked about Siobhan McDougal aka Silver Banshee and Stryker's Island here.

Later on we see Clark and Lois infiltrating the Task Force X hideout and Clark uses his X-Ray vision but can't seem to see through the walls here. If you know your Superman lore, these walls are made of lead.

Jerry Seigel and Joe Shuster, Superman's creators, first introduced X-Ray vision to Superman in Action Comics #11 (1939) where Clark is investigating some shady dealing involving oil and the death of someone involved in this deal. It wasn't until later in Action Comics #69 nice (1944) [W: Jerry Seigel, P&I: Ed Dobrotka] that we see there is a limit to Clark's X-Ray vision.

Superman rescues Lois from the Prankster and his henchmen after surveying the area with his X-Ray vision and seeing that one of the buildings is made of lead and can't see inside it and he goes in to save her.

Later as Sam, Lois and Superman escape the compound Waller sics one of her soldiers after them, a green skull-faced, radioactive soldier aka Atomic Skull.

MAwS Waller calls Atomic Skull as Agent Martin, so we can assume this is a reference to Joseph Martin, the second Atomic Skull who first appeared in Adventures of Superman #383 (1991) [W: Jerry Ordway, P: Jim Fern, I: Doug Hazelwood, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: Albert DeGuzman]. In the comics Joseph Martin was a student. Later in Action Comics #670 (1991) Joseph, at a S.T.A.R. Labs for a check up, gets struck by a grounding cable and that triggers his Metagenes as the building collapsed. He was able to escape but stumbles back to his apartment and begins to lose his hair. Trying to figure out what is wrong Joseph gets jumped by some muggers and Joseph murders them and walks into the theater that is playing an Atomic Skull movie (yes in the post-Crisis on Infinite Earths continuity Atomic Skull is a movie character). Superman investigating the muggers murder discovers Joseph Martin at the movies and sees that he has changed and takes up the name the Atomic Skull as seen below in Action Comics #670 (1991) [W: Roger Stern, P: Bob McLeod, I: Denis Rodier, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: Bill Oakley].

The original Atomic Skull, Albert Michaels, first appeared in Superman #303 (1976) as a piece-of-shit but smart AF scientist for S.T.A.R. Labs. Twenty issues later in Superman #323 (1978) [Cover art by Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez] , Albert Michaels dons the Atomic Skull costume after siding with SKULL and is given a radium implant in his brain that would grant him the ability to harness bioelectricity from his cranium and convert it to energy to shoot out from his visor.

Back at the Daily Planet, Jimmy is called out by Perry for not giving him a video and we see that the Flamebird team is composed of the Newkid Legion and Steve Lombard. I talked more about them here and here.

We get one Wilhelm scream as as Task Force X soldier gets carried back into the dark hallway by Parasite/Ivo who I talked more about here.

And finally after stopping Parasite from attack Waller, Lex Luthor shows up finally giving his name to Waller striking up a new partnership.

Lex Luthor first appeared in Action Comics #23 (1940) [W: Jerry Seigel, P: Joe Shuster, I: Paul Cassidy] where he was exploiting European countries in WWII. This iteration of Lex goes by Alexei Luthor. Still smart like his other Lex Luthor counterparts with a knack for machinery technology. He apparently dies in his debut issue.

In Action Comics #125 (1948) [P&I: Al Plastino] we see the debut of silver age Lex Luthor . In the comic Alexis Luthor here, uses his scientific genius to manipulate a hermit who's making prediction come true. This Lex Luthor has beef with Superboy back when he and Clark were kids. He swore revenge on Superboy for ruining his research after a fire broke out at his laboratory causing his hair to fall out thanks to the chemical fumes. This iteration of Lex is the one who creates the famous warsuit that Lex Luthor is usually depicted in.

Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths Lex Luthor makes his first appearance in Swamp Thing #52 (1986) [W: Alan Moore, P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tatjana Wood, L: John Costanza]. This version of Lex is the scientist and business man that pop culture knows and he goes by Alexander Luthor. His origins is rewritten so that instead of Lex being from Smallville and having met Superboy back then, he meets Superman in Metropolis where he created Lexcorp and almost everyone is under his employ whether they know it or not (see the Man of Steel miniseries from 1986). In that miniseries, he also has the red hair and eventually he goes bald. This version of Lex was also a former President of the United States.

Post-New52/DC Rebirth, because of some comic book shenanigans and retcons, some of Lex's origins pre-New 52 blends in this this current continuity now where Lex Luthor joined the Justice League as shown on the cover of Justice League #30 (2014) [Cover art by Ivan Reis, Joe Prado, and Rod Reis], was Superman when New 52 Superman died as shown in the variant cover of Action Comics #967 (2017) [Cover art by Gary Frank and Brad Simpson], and started the Legion of Doom seen on the cover of Justice League #5 (2018) [Cover art by Doug Mahnke, Jaime Mendoza, and Wil Quintana].

And with that episode 2 is done! Come back next week for episode 3's references and Easter eggs! My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and refereces in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Eight

Summary: After escaping death together, both of them finally just want to feel alive. With each other. | Word Count: 5.6k~ | Warnings: SMUT (finally), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), escaped death sex, angst, mentions of death

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

There was only panic. The acrid taste of foreboding death on his tongue.

Billy could feel his chest caving in with despair, as if someone had plunged their fist into it, grabbed his heart in their icy fingers and torn it from between his ribs. Fingernails sunk into the hot, bloody flesh.

The image blurred at the edges, her face focussed in the centre. It was so bright and hot before. Why was it suddenly so cold and dark?

Billy fought against the police officers, clawing and belting her name from the depths of his throat in a state of desperation.

“It's always been us. It always will be.”

He had never seen someone look so petrified. Her hand stretched out, reaching for him, a soundless utterance of his name left her lips before her body was shrouded in flames and smoke. 

Peeling away at her gorgeous face.

He felt the hellish heat of the fire engulfing his car, and felt nothing but a hollow emptiness, of self-loathing, when her screams from inside became swiftly quieter.

And Billy woke as he had done for the last two nights, drenched in sweat, gripping the bedsheets for some semblance of control and wide, blue eyes flitting about the room in panic.

He'd dreamt of many scenarios that could have played out that day. All of which ended with one inescapable ending, that she always perished in them.

He didn't sleep at all that first night, opting to spend it at his Mum and Dad's. Unable to face the unbearable and stark loneliness of his flat until his mind was more stable and not muddled by the threat of death.

He can still feel it. Deep in his bones.

The primal fear that gripped him. 

But every now and then, like a warm, tender embrace. The memories of her would come just as easily. How she held his face. How her lips had pressed against his in relief. Her eyes, stark against the stillness of that twilight evening, as she was ushered away into her own ambulance.

It was a comfort for him to remember just why he was here. Alive.

All because of her.

He hadn't seen her since that day.

Val had offered at the first opportunity to have her over, just in case, like Billy, she didn't want to be alone on the evening her very life could have been forfeit.

But before she could even propose the idea, when she'd picked Billy up from the police station after submitting their statements, she was already gone. But the shadows of what happened to them both lingered in the bold letters of the local newspapers.

9th July. Bomb Defused in Targeted Attack on Anti-Fascist Activists Yesterday evening, a man and a woman narrowly escaped a deadly terror attack targeted at anti-fascist activists. The assailants had planted a bomb in the victims' car, intending to cause catastrophic harm. Police presence surrounding Farringdon Tube Station has been increased in response to the attack.  Thanks to the swift response of the Metropolitan Police bomb squad team, the explosive device was successfully defused before it could detonate, averting what could have been a devastating loss of life. The heroic efforts of law enforcement officers ensured the safe extraction of the individuals from the scene, who were promptly transported to a nearby hospital for evaluation and treatment. As investigations into the incident continue, authorities are urging members of the public to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to law enforcement agencies. The MET police have confirmed the arrest of an individual in connection with the targeted attack. The suspect, whose identity has not yet been disclosed, was apprehended following intensive investigations into the incident.

As he sat up in bed then, throwing the sheets off his middle and twisting to plant his feet on the cool floor, he wondered if she was suffering as he was.

The ache of her absence gnawed at him, a hollow emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing day. He wondered where she had gone, if she was safe. The uncertainty weighed heavily on his mind, casting a shadow over his every thought and action.

He rose to face the new day, with dwindling purpose, but couldn't sit idly by while she was out there, lost and alone. He had to find her, to offer her the same comfort and support that she had once given him.

There was not one spot in his childhood home Billy felt safe from the concerned gaze of his parents, and sometimes when she bothered to come around, his sister. To be fair to Lana, everytime she saw him, she threw her arms around his neck and choked out something he couldn't strain to hear.

But the tug at his heart told him it was mostly out of guilt. 

With unwashed hair, he stared at the kettle as it boiled, waiting for the button to click off in what became a monotonous task to just have something to do. The rumble of the water wormed its way into his brain.

The hum of the engine.

The beep of the timer as it counted down.

“Billy, look at me-”

“Billy.”

His mum's concerned voice rang through like a bell, tugging him to the surface. And he blinked a few times before looking at her, his mum's eyebrows furrowed together, her phone held in one hand, outstretched to him.

“Mum, I don't want to talk to Beck-”

“It's Libby, duck.”

With his phone dusted across Cranstead Fields, he felt like somewhat of a child, that everyone who wanted to speak to him, had to come through his mum first.

Since the incident, and he wasn't sure how Becky found out, but she'd been ringing his Mum non-stop, asking for him. To talk to him. But what would she even say? Some half-arsed attempt at sympathy?

Billy nodded a thank you, and bought the phone to his ear, sighing with relief when his mum gave him privacy.

“Hiya Libs, listen, right now's not a good ti-”

“Billy! Sorry, but I can't get hold of her. S-she’s gone off somewhere and-”

“Woah woah, calm down, what's going on?”

“She's turned her phone off and I don't know where she is! Her fucking dad turned up at her flat-”

He dropped the teaspoon then, completely focussed. Something akin to a cold wave sweeping over him. A flurry of memories came, of conversations had in Cranstead Fields on their walks home from school.

“I don't really know him,” she'd said, “if I saw him in the street, I wouldn't recognise him.”

“Her Dad? What the fuck-Libs, slow down and explain.”

“You know her better than anyone, Billy…can you please just make sure she's okay…”

Billy's mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. He made a quick promise to Libby that he'd do something, his determination fueling his actions. If he knew her, she'd be panicking at the mere sight of her estranged father showing up at her flat. He imagined her fears, her worries about what he could possibly want after all these years of abandonment.

Perhaps her father had his own family now, another life that didn't include her. Or maybe he had heard about the events at Cranstead and was offering some feeble attempt at support. Whatever the reason, Billy knew he had to act fast.

Brushing past his mum, he pulled on his jacket and headed out into the rain-soaked streets, the calls of his dad fading into the distance. With each step, his determination grew stronger, fueled by his love for her and his unwavering promise to always be there for her.

He had always said he would do anything for her, and now, with the rain pouring down around him and the stifling heat of summer weighing heavily on his shoulders, he knew he had to keep that promise. "I have to get to her. I have to get to her," he repeated to himself, each word a mantra driving him forward through the storm.

He already let her slip away from him once.

It wasn’t going to happen again.

16th September. 

The date on Billy's phone screen seemed to mock him, the reminder underneath serving as a painful reminder of what could have been. The day she would leave for university. He had set the reminder himself, filled with visions of helping her with her bags, hands intertwined until the last possible moment before the train doors closed.

But those hopeful expectations had been shattered, crushed by his own foolishness. The memory of her hurt expression on their last day of college stabbed at his heart, a constant ache he couldn't shake.

He had realised his mistake too late, watching helplessly as she walked away from him. His friends had been rightfully annoyed at him for ruining the excitement of their next life stage. She was only following her dreams, trying to live her life to the fullest.

The only person who was tolerable to be around, was Harry.

He was at least easy to talk to about idle shit. Playing whatever shitty first person shooter he had in his arsenal of XBOX games. In between games, Billy checked his phone, but found no text lining his screen, blowing smoke between his lips out Harry’s bedroom window. Even in those moments of distraction, Billy couldn't shake the nagging feeling of regret.

“Have you told her you love her yet?” Harry asked, button smashing and catching his lip between his teeth in concentration.

Billy furrowed his brow, “Who? Becky?”

It was rare Harry paused a game if he didn’t have to. But his reaction was immediate, his expression filled with disappointment. It was then Billy felt the hot whips of panic and embarrassment at the back of his neck. Harry scoffed and turned back to his game, tight with some form of resentment.

He thought about fobbing off Harry, weaving through the tight alleyways of the local estate, running as fast as his long legs would carry him, to make it to the train station before she left him forever. 

But when he checked his phone, the reminder was gone, and he felt the hole where she had occupied space inside him, cold. 

Every corner of her home held the memory of her mother's voice.

“Where the fuck have you been all night? Ungrateful cow!”

“You're just like your bloody father! Useless!”

And one of her more colourful insults.

“You're about as useful as tits on a bull.”

It would almost be funny. Almost.

Her former home was caked with dust, formed thick in the weeks her mum had been in rehab. There were still dirty mugs in the sink, and an inch of milk in the fridge. But it smelled as it always had, musty and oppressive.

Her hair was frizzy from walking in the rain, and when she'd tripped past the pile of letters at the front door, it felt like she was a ghost in her own home.

One she never thought she'd set foot in again.

But she had to get away from him. 

Just turning up, after years of pretending she didn't exist, without so much of a ‘sorry, I never bothered to give a shit about you’.

No. 

So she ran. Socks and shoes completely sodden from running. That day at Cranstead Fields felt like a lifetime ago and not at the same time. The humid, blazing days had given way finally to raging thunder. Rumbling aggressively.

Her old bedroom didn't offer much of a haven. 

As she entered her old bedroom, seeking solace in the familiarity of its walls, she couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over her. This was no longer her sanctuary, but a prison of her own making, a reminder of the pain and suffering she had endured at the hands of those who were supposed to love her.

Any sunlight that filtered through the thick cloud started to fade, sat on her childhood bed that felt too small now.

And she jumped when she heard the front door open, as if expecting the shriek of her mother, the slam of doors, the rise of an open hand-

“Hey..” 

Billy's voice tore her away. He looked comical stood in the doorway, nearly filling all available space. His eyebrows furrowed beautifully, with little drips falling from the darkened sandy locks of hair over his eyes.

She'd not seen him since Cranstead.

And she felt her heart squeeze at the sight of him now. Looking just as worried we the day she first met him. 

His clothes were soaked through, jeans a dark blue at the thigh where he'd been running through the rain. And if she hadn't felt so hollow, like her legs would break if she leapt forwards, she would have hugged him. And not let go.

Eventually finding her own voice was difficult.

“Mum's dead, Billy.”

Billy's lips parted, his expression unreadable as he processed her words. There was a sadness in his eyes, but also a sense of resignation, as if he had been expecting this news all along.

For a moment, he simply stood there, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. And then, without a word, Billy crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she let out a shaky breath.

Billy exhaled, warm against her shoulder as he held her, “I'm sorry, baby,” he whispered. His words only made her arms tighten around him. He was her only anchor. Had always been.

11th July. Woman found deceased in local canal. A woman's body was discovered in the waters of the local canal early morning, 9th July. Sources close to the investigation suggest that the woman may have been under the influence of alcohol at the time of her untimely demise. According to preliminary reports from law enforcement officials, the woman, whose identity remains unknown at this time, had checked herself out of a rehabilitation facility mere hours before her tragic accident occurred. It is believed that she may have been attempting to navigate the area on foot when she accidentally fell into the canal. In the wake of this tragic event, local authorities are urging members of the public to exercise caution when venturing near bodies of water, particularly in the aftermath of heavy rainfall. The family of the deceased have chosen not to comment and request privacy during this difficult time.

Billy sat with her for a while, rubbing her back tenderly as she leaned into him, and both watched the river of rain slide down the road outside, the concrete shimmering.

“I've never been up here,” Billy commented, earning a mirthless laugh from her.

“You're not missing much, trust me.”

His hand found its way around her waist, and he pressed his lips to her hair, a silent gesture of comfort. “Is that what your Dad came over to tell you? About your mum?” he inquired gently.

She nodded simply. 

Billy felt her tension, her inner turmoil palpable in the air around them. “I can’t do it,” she whispered, her voice strained with emotion. “Pretending nothing’s wrong…”

He shook his head, his heart aching for her. “Nobody’s asking you to,” he assured her.

“Yeah, but that's not what people want, is it? Stiff upper lip. Move on,” she lamented, her bitterness seeping into her words. "I just... I don't know how to feel," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like... I should be sad, but all I feel is... relief.”

Billy's brows furrowed in concern, but he didn't interrupt her. He knew she needed to voice her thoughts, to untangle the complex web of emotions swirling inside her. He understands that feeling. That you should be sad, but you're not as sad as you think you ought to be.

"It's not like I wanted her to die," she continued, her tone tinged with bitterness. "But...now she's gone, and I don't know what to do with all this... emptiness.”

Billy squeezed her gently, offering silent support. "You don't have to figure it all out right now," he reassured her. "Just take it one step at a time."

She leaned into him, grateful for his steady presence. "I just... I don't want to see him. My Dad." She confessed, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Shows up out of nowhere, expecting me to... what? Forgive him? Act like nothing ever happened?"

Billy's jaw tightened with anger, but he kept his tone calm. "You don't owe him anything," he said firmly. "You're allowed to set boundaries, to protect yourself from anyone who brings you pain."

I should know, he thinks.

She nodded. "Yeah," she agreed, her voice stronger now. "I'm not sure he's someone I want to figure things out with.”

Billy felt a pang of sadness at her words, the weight of her pain heavy on his heart. “Only you get it,” she added softly, her voice filled with longing. “Sometimes I think it’s only you who does.”

He smiled against her hair, his laughter a bittersweet melody in the quiet room. “Lucky you,” he teased, earning a breathy laugh from her that felt half-hearted, but a laugh nonetheless.

In the quiet intimacy of the room, he found himself lost in the warmth of her presence, grateful for the silent understanding that passed between them. They had weathered storms together before, and he knew they would weather this one too. He brushed a gentle kiss against her temple, his lips lingering there for a moment before he spoke.

After a beat, Billy squeezed her waist affectionately, “Come on, let’s get you back to mine. Get you dried up, yeah?”

It was clear the moment she walked through the door that his parents had been round to tidy up at some point after Cranstead.

The floor was visible. His kitchen, mostly spotless. And all the clothes had been put away. A stark contrast to how it appeared when she and Billy had been here last. It was night and day, compared to the chaos that had consumed their lives before everything unravelled.

On the walk home, Billy had confessed that Becky had texted him - probably feeling in some way, that he owed her an explanation about his ex. Not that she needed one.

When she asked if he texted back, he'd said no, reasoning that he had no desire to see or even speak to her again after the behaviour she'd exhibited when they had been together. Yet, there was no trace of jealousy within her. She knew, deep down, that she had Billy all to herself now, without any looming threats of loss.

By the time they'd made it back to his, the sun was starting to set over the rooftops, casting a rainbow through the shimmering rain that continued to fall. The walk back to his flat had drenched them once again, but neither felt the hurry to rush about and get dry.

“How's Lana?” She asked, watching from the kitchen doorway as Billy poured boiling water into two mugs.

He raised his eyebrows as if the question caught him off guard, “uh, yeah fine really…just being her usual bossy self mostly.”

Her throat tightened as she observed the movement of his hands, an unexpected pang of desire igniting within her. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the dormant feelings that had long been suppressed. In the quiet of the kitchen, she found herself drawn to him, her gaze lingering on his features as if memorising every contour. The air crackled with unspoken words, the weight of their shared history hanging between them.

“Good.” she added quietly, suddenly finding herself needing to do something with her hands. 

With his sodden jacket now hanging over the door, her gaze lingered on the sight of his bare skin, his barely sun-kissed arms at his side. The memory of their kiss, passionate and electrifying, flooded her mind, sending a shiver down her spine.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume her. She couldn't afford to lose herself in him, not now, not like this, not after the trauma of what had happened. She had to maintain control, to resist the pull of her desires and stop acting like a lovesick little teenager.

As Billy turned to face her, his pupils widened with longing, and she felt her resolve weaken. In that moment, the palpable chemistry between them was undeniable, sparking like electricity in the air, pulling them together with an irresistible force.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware of her appearance to him. Her clothes clung to her damp skin, the scent of rain clinging to her hair, a tangible reminder of the storm they had walked through together.

But despite her dishevelled state, there was something in Billy's gaze that made her heart race. It was a hunger, a desire that mirrored her own, igniting a fire within her that she struggled to contain. Yet, there was something else there, something deeper, a glimmer of disbelief mingled with relief as if he couldn't quite believe she was standing here, alive and whole, in front of him. It added a layer of complexity to the intensity of their connection, amplifying the magnetic pull that drew them closer together.

And then, without a word, Billy stepped forward, closing the distance between them in one decisive move. His hands cupped her cheeks tenderly, his touch both gentle and possessive as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a bold move, one that took her by surprise, but there was a sense of determination in Billy's actions that spoke volumes. For too long, he had taken a back seat in his own life, allowing others to dictate his choices and define his path. 

But this, kissing her, was a decision he could make, a choice born out of his own desires and needs.

It was only when they parted and Billy pressed his tacky forehead to hers that he spoke, “I'm so fucking sorry…”

Between soft inhales, her voice came out weakened, “what for?”

She couldn't tell if the breath he let out was more of a choked sob rather than speaking. “For being such a twat before you left for uni, for fucking putting you in danger - I could never live with myself if you-”

Her head turned, capturing his lips once more to silence the words that had barely come out. She couldn't allow him to think like that, the what ifs. They were here. Alive.

Driven by an undeniable longing, they stumbled backward, their bodies moving in sync as they navigated the path to Billy's bedroom. His hands slid down to clamp around her waist, guiding her with a sense of purpose as they moved with a newfound urgency, barely giving space for breath as he surrendered himself to her.

Billy tasted faintly of cigarettes, and while her fingers slid up the nape of his neck, twisting themselves in his dark, blonde hair, she found herself thinking that there was nothing more addictive at this moment than kissing Billy Washington.

And wanted to kick herself for waiting so long to do it.

Lost in the heat of the moment, she found herself craving more of Billy's touch, a hunger that consumed her from the inside out. His hands roamed her body with a feverish intensity, tracing every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.

“So beautiful…” 

Her knees went a little weak, and thank god that she didn't have to stand in front of him much longer. The back of her knees met the bedframe and as she stumbled with her back on the worn mattress, Billy was quick to follow, his knee parting her legs with quiet intensity.

There was no need for words, the depth of this bond had been communicated long ago.

If she paid too much attention to the way his large hands pawed at her breasts and slipped beneath the hem of her shirt to glide along her skin, her mind would spin. It felt so natural, chest to chest, tangled in bliss they had ignored for too long.

She tugged at his shirt, the burning desire building so quickly inside her, there was no way of stopping. He propped himself up slightly to grab his shirt at his back and pulled it off himself in one smooth movement, forgotten to the floor in an instant.

His lips trailed down her neck, collarbone, savouring every bit, before continuing south, softly kissing the skin that had become exposed at her torso as she assisted in guiding her jeans off her legs, struggling at the way the fabric clung to her skin from the rain.

“Fucking hell…” Billy whispered, her hips in his bruising grip, his lips brushing against the inside of her bare thighs. She felt his tongue tease that crease where her leg met her hip and the heat that rose to her face from it. 

“Billy, oh-” her eyes slipped completely shut, stomach doing backflips when he laid an open-mouthed kiss to her centre, teasing the growing wetness with his tongue as if he couldn't wait to taste. Even through the thin fabric of her underwear, with his sheer determination to bury himself as far between her legs as possible, his nose brushed against her little bundle of nerves, stroking a long burning fire that brewed within her.

She could do nothing but thread her fingers through his hair, hips gently grinding on his face to search for that delicious friction she craved so much. Billy didn't mind the gentle tug on his roots, and simply slid down the underwear that was in his way and flattened his tongue with vigour against her, a broad stripe from her folds to focus his unwavering attention to her bud, if only to watch the way her thighs trembled in response.

The coil wound tight in her gut, and when she chanced a glance to see Billy's bright blue eyes looking back at her from between her legs, groaning, she nearly lost it entirely. The pleasant sting of his grip on her thighs where Billy was holding them apart, could not even be described.

Her fingers curled tighter, breath hot in her chest the feeling began to flood into her limbs, subconsciously grinding against his face as she rode out the high that shook her.

“-fuck! Billy-” is all she was able to whisper through hurried breaths, feeling that Billy was not about to falter until he had taken as much from her as he wanted, lapping up anything she gave him with a final flick of his tongue against her bud.

He laid one last kiss to the inside of her thigh before struggling to his feet with his fingers prying the buttons his jeans apart with difficulty. Merely watching him, she felt the dull buzz through her body still, and the rapid beating of her heart against her ribs.

Neither said a thing, too focussed on seeing each other like this for the first novel time. Her eyes followed the trail of dark blonde hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his black boxers before they came off as well. 

She'd never given much thought to how he looked without his clothes on, that would mean opening a door she'd long locked away. But once she saw him as she did now, chest moving with barely-contained desire, his large palm running up and down his shaft that stood tight against his abdomen - she felt herself clench around nothing. And suddenly, his body was all she was able to think about as she pressed her thighs together.

As quickly as she closed her legs, Billy was forcing them open again, and her cheeks went all hot as he knelt before her on the bed, his eyes zero’d in on what lay between her supple thighs. 

His hands drifted over her hips to her waist appreciatively, before taking his length in his hand and running the fat head of his cock over her glistening centre, “God, you're so fucking good-”

She was oversensitive, barely recovered from her first orgasm of the evening, and the sensation had her mouth go dry, but more so the lewd sound of her wetness. 

Billy looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself when she pushed him back slightly with a hand on his chest, a puzzled look replaced quickly by intrigue as she manoeuvred her way on top of him, with boyish blue eyes staring up at her where she now straddled him.

She'd never felt so daring in her life. Removing her shirt purely on instinct, and the bra quickly joining it, she couldn't help but tease herself on Billy's length, glazing him with her wetness, if not but for the way that line between his eyebrows furrowed together and his hips twitched with need, jutting up to meet her.

His fingers bruised her skin, “stop-” he groaned loudly, feeling as if he were embarrassingly close but still without the sensation of being inside her.

Her hand trailed down his chest, over his stomach, “I love you-” she took him and slowly sank onto him, the stretch stealing the air from her lungs for a brief moment, expelled in a choked moan. “Love you…”

For a moment, she stayed there, savouring his tortured expression before she moved herself on him, the soft sound of her buttocks against his thighs accompanied with Billy's hurried pants were like music.

“Fuck - don't stop-”

And as if she would, when he spoke to her like that. His eyes cracked open and locked on the way her breasts moved, his hands around her waist guiding her pace on him. When he looked at her so reverently, like a longing gaze, combined with the way his curved length teased her g-spot when she ground on him in this position, she was powerless to stop that growing peak rousing up inside her.

Billy groaned aloud, feeling her tighten and greedily suck him further inside her, “Oh my god-”

“Billy-” she'd be embarrassed if she could see herself, all drunk on sex with Billy like this. He leaned up, thrusting up into her at a faster and needier pace, while his lips took her right nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing it slightly.

She whined, her hand finding its way into his hair, meeting his hips halfway. With Billy guiding the speed instead it felt exciting, with each thrust the air felt knocked from her chest, amplified as Billy let her nipple fall from his mouth and trail up to her neck.

“I love you-” he murmured, one hand drifting up her spine to her nape, gently but insistently pulling at her hair to crush her lips to his.

She wanted to sob with joy. How long had she wanted to hear that? To feel loved? And now she was being loved by none other than Billy Washington. And she held onto him tight, not wanting to let go, and instead let out a sob of pure pleasure as his thrusts became deeper and more insistent the closer he was edging to his own end.

It was quickly driving her to her own.

“Please, Billy-”

She squeaked when he was the one this time to pull her by her waist and rut into her aggressively. His breath was hurried and hot against her neck, but he felt he could barely suck in air at all, putting all his energy into fucking her until she could scarcely think of anything else.

“always…” he breathed out loud, as if he had not realised. He echoed her words spoken in haste, in fear, just a few days before when she held his face and reassured him.

Beneath her hands, his shoulders tensed, and she could tell he was close. And when Billy's hand stole between them, his thumb gathering her wetness where he was still pounding into her, he began tight circles against her bud, propelling her over the edge with another choked cry of his name.

White hot pleasure bathed Billy as he held her tightly, too tightly, but she didn't protest, and he trembled as he felt himself come deep inside her, her walls too quivering around him, seeking to greedily tease as much from him as she could.

With chests pressed together, she held him close, sucking in air as Billy was doing. Her fingers loosened in his hair, the desperate hold turning more so to a gentle embrace, with Billy's length tucked inside her and softening rapidly.

In the aftermath, with the room hot with sex, Billy pulled away from her neck only to flutter his gorgeous blonde eyelashes up at her, blue eyes peeking from beneath them, and his lips curling up into a boyish smile. He remained inside her, and wanted to for as long as he could. Where she sank in his arms, he tightened his.

The thin layer of sweat on their skin made them both shiver slightly, and she could find no words for him, only the ones she had uttered in a state of unadulterated bliss moments before.

“I love you…”

And Billy echoed the ones he had too spoken. This time with no quiver to his voice. “Always.”

The soft glow of morning crept through the curtains, casting warm hues across the room. She had been awake for some time, watching as Billy slept soundly beside her, his tousled hair a golden halo against the pillow. With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, soothing the lingering echoes of the night before. She shivered at the rush of air on her bare arms, pulling the bedsheets to her chest, but also felt the warmth around her heart, like a balm for her soul.

When her phone buzzed, having been silenced since she escaped her flat yesterday afternoon, she smiled at the message from Libs.

She bit back a smile, and replied with a sneaky photo of Billy, slept on his front, but revealing nothing more than his boyishly charming sleeping face.

With her heart feeling whole, mind clear, and that dull ache in her chest somewhat healed, her eyes glanced up at him, appreciating him, she thought.

Yes, finally.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 5/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Notes below!

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

Ever since his redemption (a perplexing event he still couldn't fathom), Sir Pentious had never left Emily's side at all. Well, more like he wasn't allowed to leave the young Seraph's side at all. That tall lady, Sera, proved to be stricter than dear Vagatha.

Confined to a single floor among Heaven's bright buildings, he shared quarters with the Seraphs. Sera had instructed him to remain there until she could resolve the issue at hand.

He has no idea what the other means by that. Wasn't his redemption already the resolution they needed?

The snake demon- nope, angel now- felt an urge to consult Emily about it, as she reminded him greatly of Charlie. Yet, he never got the opportunity, when one day he was abruptly awoken and whisked away before he could even really wake up.

Sir Pentious: Emily, dear, where exactly are we going?

Emily: Last time, Sera said she had a meeting with the Heavenly Virtues, so I told her to tell them about you being a redeemed soul from Hell.

Sir Pentious: And who, pray tell, are thesssssse.. Virtuesssssss?

Emily: The Archangels of Heaven. They're the highest authority here just under the Lord.

Sir Pentious: Miss Charlie didn't mention any Archangels during her trial.

Emily: They weren't there. They put all their trust in Sera to handle those kinds of matters but... After the last extermination, there was no hiding Sera can do anymore. And when she was called for that meeting, I begged her to tell them about you.

Sir Pentious: I will guess that she hasssssn't?

Emily: She didn't! I can't believe her. She came back and she's refusing to see me or even go back to tell them! So, I'm making an executive decision to tell them myself.

Sir Pentious: Do I really have to be there?

Emily: Of course! You're living- uhh- dead? proof that a soul can be redeemed! Now come on!

Sir Pentious: Are you ssssssure we're allowed here, dear?

Emily had been noticeably fidgety—a trait Sir Pentious recognized all too well. From past experience, he understood that such behavior either means discomfort, fear, or guilt. He isn't sure what she's thinking right now.

Emily: Um- yep!

Sir Pentious: Then why are we sneaking in?

The angel's expression confirmed his suspicions. Right on the money.

Emily: Well- I- just follow me!

Emily continued to open random doors while dragging Sir Pentious along, seemingly determined to find a specific room among them. Despite their covert mission, they managed to evade any detection so far. Yet, the newly redeemed soul couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone in the building.

Emily: One of these rooms has to belong to one of them.

As Emily expressed her determination, a fleeting glimpse of familiar red and white caught Sir Pentious' attention.

He instinctively turned his head towards the direction, only to find the hallway empty. There's a nagging sensation compelling him to investigate further.

Emily intervened, grabbing his arm before he could even move away.

Emily: Sir Pentious! What are you doing?

Sir Pentious: I think I sssssaw ssssssomething, deary.

Emily's sudden burst of excitement propelled them both towards the direction where Sir Pentious claimed to have seen the figure vanished.

Emily: Do you think it's an Archangel? I hope so. We might get in trouble if it's anyone other than them. Then again, I've never been in this building before and I'm not really allowed but I'm technically acting Seraphim right now so-

Her words trailed off into rambling, but Sir Pentious paid her no mind, his focus is entirely on tracking the elusive figure. However, they couldn't catch up as they lost it amidst the labyrinth of corridors.

Sir Pentious: Hmmm. Perhaps it was no one-

The building suddenly shook so hard causing them to fall on the floor. It stopped just as quickly as it happened.

Emily: What was that?!

Sir Pentious: Emily, doesssss Heaven get earthquakessssss?

Emily: I don't even know what those are!

As Sir Pentious and Emily cautiously approached the door from which the sound of bickering emanated, they exchanged a knowing glance. With silent agreement, they inched closer, their curiosity piqued by the faint golden glow seeping through a suspiciously well-placed crack on the door just perfect for their eyes.

Sir Pentious chose to say nothing about it.

Peeking through the cracks, they find themselves shocked at who was at the other side of the door.

Michael: You don't understand! I- it was such a hard decision! It was the best option! I'm Heaven's protector and- Lucifer: You were my protector too!

Emily: Archangel Michael?! / Sir Pentious: His Majesty?!

Emily: His- wait. What do you mean?

Sir Pentious: That'ssssss His Majessssty, Lucifer!

Gasping a little too loudly, Emily's hands flew to cover her mouth.

A part of her wants to go back to the Archangel's words. Where did she hear that before?

Emily: Charlie's dad?? As in the King of-

Michael: -on their knees in front of people other than our Lord. It took so many meetings for them to relent. That's why you and Lilith spent a long time held in the Garden. Lucifer: Shut up. Michael: So, I'm really sorry that we let you down. Lucifer: Shut up, Michael! Michael: But if I had the chance to go back, I would do it all over again.

As Emily listened to the heated exchange between the Archangels, a pang of empathy tugged at her heart. She couldn't help but wonder if someone could truly utter such hurtful words even in the midst of apologies. She doesn't blame Charlie's dad one bit if she were in his shoes. If Sera hurt her like that...

Ah. But Sera did hurt her. She lied to her.

Amidst the confusing emotions swirling within her, Emily's acute senses picked up something else from within the room—voices that didn't belong to the two arguing Archangels. The threads are-

Lucifer: You should've killed me when you had the chance. And now you think you can beat me at my own game?

Wait a second. Where had she heard about golden thread before? What did Sera say? That every soul's destiny, human or not, was already determined by the-

Emily: Oh no. No no no no! Sir Pentious we have to get out here before they see us!

Sir Pentious: Young miss, the Archangel you need is beyond that door plus His Majesty! We can relay the news faster to Charlie this way!

There's manic laughter now but Emily is far too panicked think of it.

Lucifer: Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves at all?!

She's pulling him with all her might but the winner is stubborn.

Emily: This room- We aren't allowed here! We're not even allowed to see it! Sera said this is the room of The F-

Lucifer: Maybe then, Heaven could've killed that weak, naive angel. But me? ME?! Ì̶̢̤̉'̵͙͕͑M̷̱͋̀ ̵̬͌T̴̥͠͝H̸̫́̑E̶̳̠̐̎ ̴̠̣̎̐D̷̼̕E̵̢̳͆V̶̳̩̉̋Ì̶̬L̴̥̗̾ ̴̮͝F̸̝̓̀Ų̸̠͗̑C̵͚͗K̷̺̚̚I̵̠̋̕Ň̸͎͈G̵̘̔ ̵̤͛I̸̩͐N̷̥̰̋C̸͓̒̍A̴̙̓R̵͍͛N̴̤͎͠A̵͇̟̓Ṯ̴̯͊Ḙ̴͑̇,̴̰͆̑ ̵̤́ͅÝ̴̙̫̈́O̵͚͐͒U̵̙͂ ̷̱̆͜͝Ċ̸͍̌Á̷̰́N̸͉̈'̶͇̎͂T̵̠̒ ̶͖́K̶̛̲̮̆I̸͎̘͐̃L̴̟̙̔̿L̴̜̾͊ ̶̱̥̌M̵̳̕E̵͈̯͋́!

For the 2nd time that day, they fell as the ground shook with the screams inside.

They scrambled to their feet just in time to witness a terrifying sight—the manifestation of Lucifer's wrath in all its terrifying glory.

Emily's blood ran cold as she saw the scene unfolding before her, mind struggling to comprehend the Devil. The air crackled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine, and her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Michael: Lucifer—what? Why do you look like that? What did you-

She refuses to believe this is Charlie's dad.

Emily: T-t-that's the K-king of Hell?

She doesn't know why she expected Sir Pentious to be smug or even be proud that this scary being was his former King. But he wasn't. In fact, he looks just as afraid as she is.

Sir Pentious: No. It isssss not.

Lucifer: Don't worry, Mika. I won't die that easily because I'll be there to watch Heaven fall.

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

Even after the King of Hell departed and the Archangel Michael fell silent, Sir Pentious and Emily remained rooted to the spot, hesitant to leave yet also unwilling to enter the room. The lingering tension in the air held them in its grip.

It was the former sinner who spoke up first.

Sir Pentious: Thissss isss our chance, Emily.

Emily: Sir Pentious, maybe we should find another person we could talk to.

Sir Pentious: Come now, little missy. We've already missed His Majesty, and we barely could find a single soul in this building! An Archangel is right there and we must seize this opportunity!

Emily: Shhhhhh! If Sir Michael hears us even near this room, I don't know how I'll tell this to Sera.

Sir Pentious: Do not shush me, young lady! I'll have you know I-

The sudden swing of the door startled both Sir Pentious and Emily, freezing them in place like deer caught in headlights. Before them stood the champion of Heaven, the head of the Archangels, the protector of her home, wearing an expression that Emily could only describe as surprised—though she was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown to really be sure.

Emily: Archangel Michael! We-uh- we can explain!

Sir Pentious: Your Heavenly Grace!

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

short my ass, aldjlakla the day had been busy so sorry for the late upload!

I had help from chatgpt again to avoid any redundant words cos I am no English native haha

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut, Torture

Words: 2,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

In the dimly lit labyrinth of the laboratory, the brilliant minds congregated in solitude, their shadows dancing along the walls as they delved deep into the secrets of science. The atmosphere was thick with tension and secrecy, as each scientist knew that their work held the key to unleashing the destructive power of the atom.

As you sat there, lost in thought, trying to comprehend the magnitude of our endeavours, you felt a sudden chill run down your spine that day, feeling as though something was not right.

Little did you know that the universe was aligning against you, and you were soon to be caught up in a sinister web of deceit and betrayal.

Without warning, armed guards burst into the laboratory, their faces grim and unforgiving. Their commander, Officer Pash, followed closely behind them, his eyes burning with intensity. With a coldness that froze your very core, he commanded your arrest without ever revealing his intentions. Before you could say anything, you were whisked away, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty.

"Excuse me. This hasn't been cleared with Dr Oppenheimer, has it? She can't just leave, we have work to do," a fellow scientist argued, being the only one who was at the laboratory with you this morning while the others, from adjacent facilities, watched on as you struggled against the handcuffs that had been placed on you. 

"Don't worry sir, Dr. Oppenheimer knows about this," the officer reassured calmly. "He approved the arrest," he continued on, and the scientist hesitated for a moment before looking over to where you and the officer were.

In that brief instant, a silent communication passed between you two as you shook your head. 

"He doesn't know. He wouldn't have agreed to have me arrested like this," you told your colleague who gave you a nod of understanding.

A mixture of sorrow and confusion played out across his face as he saw your handcuffed wrists, understanding that you were no longer free to continue working together. You turned back to look at him once more, offering a subtle nod and a faint smile, begging him, without words, to see Robert. 

***

"Can you tell me what this is about?" you asked calmly as Officer Pash led you through the labyrinthine corridors, past numerous other scientists, some recognising you but most likely unaware of the situation unfolding around them.

"Shut up and keep walking. You will find out soon enough,"

Pash replied curtly, making sure to keep his voice low so as not to attract unwanted attention. His firm grip on your arm ensured that you remained close by as you walked through the dimly lit corridors all the way to a vehicle where a bag was placed over your head. The sense of unease continued to grow inside you, filling your chest with an overwhelming heaviness.

The journey took far longer than you anticipated, taking a long drive followed by a walk through several mazes of concrete hallways and sterile rooms filled with equipment, all eerily devoid of life save for the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows upon the walls.

Each step you took brought you closer to the unknown destination while dread continued to build within your chest, threatening to break loose and consume you entirely. Your heart raced, palms sweating as your body seemed to be alive with anxiety. The constant pounding of your heart thumped in your ears, drowning out even the sound of Officer Pash's heavy boots.

Your thoughts kept drifting back to Robert, thinking that there would have been no way that he agreed to this, knowing that you were pregnant with his child. 

You knew he cared deeply for you, yet still, he never said a word about any impending arrests or investigations. Was this Officer Pash lying? Had someone else informed him of your relationship with Robert and manipulated the situation? 

Your head swam with these questions as the bag was removed from your head, and you found yourself in a cold, brightly lit room filled with rows of filing cabinets. The harsh fluorescent lighting cast harsh shadows on the walls, making it feel as if you were trapped in a nightmare.

Your mind raced with possibilities, attempting to piece together the reason for your abduction. You wondered how Robert would react when he discovered you missing. Would he think you had abandoned him? Or would he suspect foul play and search for you relentlessly?

Just as you began to lose hope and despair, Officer Pash re-entered the room, closing the door behind him. He approached you silently, his shadow stretching across the floor like a dark tendril. His presence made your skin crawl.

His cold gaze bore into yours, seemingly capable of seeing straight through your soul. A wave of terror coursed through your veins, causing your heart to race wildly in your chest. Officer Pash approached you slowly, methodically, moving with calculated precision. The space between you felt almost tangible, an invisible barrier that both repelled and drew you toward him simultaneously. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands trembling with fear and anticipation. His proximity alone made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly defenceless against whatever intentions he may hold.

His presence was suffocating, engulfing you in a darkness that threatened to devour your very essence. Your legs quivered beneath you, your body trembling with fear and anticipation as Officer Pash moved ever closer.

"Someone has leaked information to the Soviets," he stated coldly, his eyes boring into yours. 

"If you are suggesting that I have ties with the communists, then you are mistaken. I am loyal to the project and the development of the gadget," you answered, desperately trying to maintain your composure despite the mounting fear and panic inside you.

Officer Pash raised an eyebrow, a sceptical glint in his eye.

"Then why did I find these documents hidden beneath your bed?" he asked, and you bit your lip, uncertain how to respond.

"I didn't put these there. I don't even have access to these files,"

you argued, your voice wavering slightly under the weight of your fear.

"But someone had to have taken them from Dr Oppenheimer's office and hid them there," Officer Pash countered, his tone unwavering. "And you were the last person seen with Dr. Oppenheimer before these went missing."

You felt your heart sink in your chest, knowing that the evidence against you appeared to be mounting.

"Dr Oppenheimer and I...," you began to say, your thoughts racing as you tried to come up with a plausible explanation. The air in the room became thick with the weight of your fear, your breath catching in your throat as you fought to regain control of your emotions.

"Dr Oppenheimer and you?" Officer Pash queried, unaware of your affair.

"Well, I... I don't know how those documents got there," you stammered, unable to meet Officer Pash's unwavering gaze. "It must be some sort of setup," you added, hoping to convince him of your innocence.

"Someone is trying to sabotage the project by framing me as a spy," you pointed out, but the Officer simply laughed.

"Frame you, out of all people at Los Alamos?"

Officer Pash scoffed, his scepticism evident in his tone. "This isn't some small operation you're involved in here. It's a top-secret government project, and you've somehow managed to get entangled in a dangerous game of espionage. Why is that?" he asked before leaning over the desk and reaching for your throat, pressing down tightly. 

You let out a muffled cry as your world started to spin, everything going black for a split second. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself bound to a chair, facing Officer Pash, who stood before you with a look of triumph etched on his face. 

"Since you won't cough up the information I am after voluntarily, we will have to implement some measures to aid your compliance moving forward," he declared with a cruel grin. 

"I prefer doing these things the Russian way," he then announced as the room fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on you with crushing force. Your heart raced, adrenaline flooding your system, leaving you feeling lightheaded and weak.

You tried to focus on your breathing, to stay present and alert amidst the rapidly escalating tension. As Officer Pash paced around the room, you could hear the sound of his boots echoing against the hard surface, creating an ominous rhythm that underscored the growing sense of danger surrounding you. His every movement seemed calculated, each step sending a shiver down your spine.

As the tension reached its peak, the silence between you grew almost deafening. Sweat dripped down your forehead, causing you to wipe it away with a trembling hand.

Your heart hammered in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. Officer Pash circled you, his eyes holding a calculating gleam. You could sense the power he held over you, a power that you could not match in this darkened room. Despite your attempt to remain composed, your voice shook with anxiety as you spoke. "Why would anyone want to frame me as a spy? I don't understand!" you cried and, without breaking his stride, Officer Pash chuckled darkly.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you are all innocent after what your father has been arrested for?" he stopped pacing, fixing you with a piercing gaze. "You see, I have no idea how you got clearance for a project like this in the first place," he paused, allowing the silence to fill the room.

As you struggled to maintain your composure, Officer Pash stepped towards you once more, his footfalls echoing against the hard floor, intensifying the feeling of being trapped in this darkened room. With each step, your heart raced faster, your breath became shallow. His eyes held a sinister glint, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He circled you, the intensity of his gaze causing your own to widen in fear.

"Let me tell you something," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "We will get to the bottom of this, one way or another. Whether it takes hours, days, weeks…or even months."

The thought of spending endless days and nights in this dim, chilling room, subjected to Officer Pash's relentless interrogation, sent a fresh wave of terror surging through your veins.

"No, please!" you begged for mercy as Officer Pash brought another fabric bag and placed it over your head. 

You gasped in fear, struggling to breathe as the sensation of suffocation consumed you, your heart racing with terror. 

Pain exploded in your body as his strong hands bound your wrists tightly to the arms of the chair, restricting your movements and adding to your helplessness. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, but the reality of your situation sank in: you were trapped, completely at his mercy.

You fought back tears, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart hammered wildly in your chest. "I can help you find the truth," you pleaded weakly, your voice hoarse from fear before. Suddenly, your head was being pulled back and cold water was poured over the sack covering your nose and mouth.

The shock of the unexpected sensation sent a jolt through your entire body, making you gasp for air. You felt like you were drowning. 

He kept pouring water until you were soaking wet, yet still unable to breathe properly.

Your lungs burned with the struggle for air, and you felt your limbs tremble with exhaustion. In the midst of this torment, Officer Pash's words seeped into your consciousness like poison: "Don't worry. We'll figure out the truth together."

As you writhed helplessly in your bonds, a new wave of fear washed over you: not just for your safety but also for the secrets you carried within.

"Please," you gasped against the water bag, "please, stop!" 

"I am...pregnant...please," you begged, your voice hoarse from fear and fatigue.  

Officer Pash hesitated for a moment, seemingly struck by the revelation. "Interesting," he said, raising an eyebrow. 

The room fell into a heavy silence as Officer Pash considered his next move. Finally, he removed the water bag from your head, the sudden release of pressure causing you to gasp for air.

"But irrelevant to me," he then said before pulling your head up again.

"Now, think about your child. You don't want to lose your child, do you?" Officer Pash challenged, his eyes boring into yours after he removed the wet bag from your head. 

"What would you do if I told you that your child's future depended on your cooperation?" he then asked and you felt your stomach twist with fear, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anything," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion.

Officer Pash smiled, a cruel, taunting smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good," he murmured, stepping closer to you.

"Then take some time to reflect and, tomorrow, we will continue this little conversation. If you talk and give me some names, then I will ensure that you receive sufficient food and water, ensuring the survival of you both," 

Officer Pash suggested calmly, a coldness behind his eyes. 

You swallowed hard, nodding your agreement while thinking furiously. This man had already threatened you physically and emotionally, and now your unborn child's life was at stake. "Alright," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He left you alone in the room, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud. Your eyes adjusted to the faint light filtering through the windows, casting eerie shadows across the barren walls.

Tag List Insert

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[yesbutmakeitgay]

I'd Circle 'Round The World And Keep Coming Back To You

GIF by marvelladiesdaily

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 8

Reunions, Bittersweet.

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling <3

Word count: 1k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Carol enters her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest while reaching her next destination, that is, until she senses someone else’s presence in her space home.

She walks slowly, pointing one of her lit up fists in a general forward direction, "I know you’re in here, who are you? Who sent you?" she warns the intruder.

A human silhouette appears in her line of vision, it’s arms up in surrender. She continues to walk towards it so she can make out the person’s face.

"It’s me," you announce, hoping that’s enough to deter her threatening state.

"Oh, hey," she greets you with surprise and quickly puts her fist down.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" Carol asks in genuine confusion.

"I got stranded a few days ago," you explain nervously, "I saw your ship and I just…I hope you don’t mind."

"No, of course not, are you okay?"

"I think so."

She isn't so sure about your answer, but decides not to press you, "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

"That would be great, thank you."

She makes her way to the ship's control panel, "Where to?"

"Um, home?" you hesitate.

Carol pauses her movements and turns to you, "And, where is that now?"

"I’m not sure," you whisper back.

The Captain thinks for a moment, "I have a couple of missions left out here and then I'm going to Earth to visit a friend, why don't you come with me?"

"Alright."

Carol whips up a quick dinner, and you sit at the table together, "You have a nice home here, Danvers, a lot livelier than I remember," you comment, looking around the ship.

A reminiscing smile grows on her face, "Yeah, it's been a while."

"What's with all the drawings of yourself?" you ask, pointing to the cartoonish versions of Captain Marvel on the fridge.

She chuckles, "Kamala made those."

"Kamala? Is that a partner?" you wonder, trying to sound casual.

"Teammate, friend!" It comes out more aggressively than she intends.

You hum in understanding, "Still riding the Yan train, then?"

"He's just a friend, you know that," she protests, faking annoyance.

Your features turn more serious, "You and I used to be friends too."

"We're still friends," she frowns, "aren't we?" There’s a trace of sadness in her voice.

You answer with another question, "How often do you see your friends, Captain?"

Carol is taken aback by it, "Not as often as I'd like," she stutters.

"And how often do you make out with them?"

The ship is quiet for a moment.

"You've made your point." Carol accepts her defeat getting up to clear the table as you follow to help her, "I hate to be that guy, but you should take a shower," she suggests when you’re done cleaning up.

"What? You don’t like my 'I’ve been stranded on a strange planet for four days' smell?" you joke.

"Nope," she responds, accentuating the 'p,' "you can borrow some clothes if you want."

"Way ahead of you, Captain," you yell back as you walk to the bathroom.   

When you come out, Carol notices that you're hurt, "Come here," she instructs.

"What?" You walk toward her on the couch, a little puzzled.

"Sit," you do as you're told, "why are you limping?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't lie to me," she gently takes your leg and brings it over her lap, "you sprained your ankle," she states as a fact.

"It's nothing," you try to downplay it.

"It's huge, stop being stubborn." She gets up to gather some supplies and when she returns she wraps your ankle up and gives you an ice pack, "There are more in the freezer when this one melts."

"Thanks," is all you can say.

Carol goes to her bedroom, and you insist on sleeping on the couch rather than sharing a bed with her.

The Captain wakes up in the middle of the night and sees light coming through the bottom of her door. She comes out to investigate and finds you wide awake, looking out the window.

"Can't sleep?" Carol’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

"I could never get used to the feeling of the spaceship," you reply, still looking to the outside.

"You should try flying alone," she quips as she sits beside you and looks at what's mesmerizing you so much.

You grab a small picture that’s tucked in the window frame, "Where’s this?" you whisper.

"That's New Asgard."

"Where Valkyrie lives?" Carol hums in response, "We used to visit her a lot."

"I remember."

"Do you still visit her?" you ask, out of simple curiosity.

There is a sense of woe in her words, "When I can."

"Remember that time we got to ride on her Pegasus?"

"Oh, yeah!" A smile grows on Carol's face.

"You told me you loved me for the first time that day."

She scoots closer to you, and you lay your head on her shoulder, the ship is so quiet you can hear each other's breathing.

"Do you ever think of me?" Her voice is barely audible.

"Don’t ask me that."

"Do you?" she insists.

You pause for a beat, "I didn’t get stranded," Carol looks at you confused, "I heard you were stopping by, so I went to see you."

Her brows furrow, "Why?"

"Because I miss you, because nothing’s been the same since I lost you."

"But we were friends, we’re still friends!" she objects in an oblivious tone.

"That’s just something people say," you respond with a bittersweet smile, "the universe needs Captain Marvel, I just wanted Carol."

"That’s not fair."

"I was tired of fighting with the universe for your attention," you chuckle sadly, "that sounds so selfish of me. This is your job, it’s your life and you love doing it. That’s what makes the great Captain Marvel." You finally look at her.

"So, what now? Will you come find me again in two years?"

"Maybe I can stay a little longer," you hope, almost as if asking for permission.

"I would like that, I love you, I always will."

I love this one so much.

@wolf79

[ginsengkitten]

Nightfall: Chapter 1

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

The morning light filtered through the canopy of tree tops, sprinkling rays through the trees. The sounds of leaves and bark crunching under the tread of their hiking boots piercing the peaceful silence of the woods.   A young family trekked optimistically on their summer break. Getting the kids accustomed to the parents preconceived love of hiking that they shared far before ever having kids. It was the kind of trip they had both imagined for their little family ever since their first was born. Billy was a natural outdoorsy kid, Maggie, however was full of animosity towards it and would rather be playing Barbies. Even toting one of her dolls with her wherever they went. Still she admired the foliage, collecting her own bouquet of wildflowers along the way. The innocence of a young child embracing the still of nature and what the earth has to offer just by being.

Maggie encouraged that curiosity by wandering from the trail after straggling behind Billy, fortunately, Billy noticed and alerted their dad. "Dad, Maggie's running off again." To which he rolled his eyes at his daughter's silly habit and proceeded to track her down. Maggie hadn't gotten far, and when the dad had found her, he found her to be mesmerized, standing still in her spot.

"Mags how many times do we have to tell you not to-" he began to scold until his eyes met what hers did, resulting in him also frozen in horror. Maggie had stumbled upon what can only described as a horror scene. A deer lie in a small grove, dead and completely mutilated. Its poor body, unnaturally contorted into a heap of twisted, mangled flesh. The fur, skinned from its body. Flies made feast upon the bloody remnants.

"Daddy, what happened?" Maggie asked in fear. Unfortunately, daddy didn't have an answer. His fatherly knowledge reduced to the same childlike fear as hers as he grabbed her and ran, only to turn around and be met with whatever beast had tore the deer apart. The beast releasing a harrowing growl.

-

"Sources are calling it a total family annihilation; Investigators continue to work with the California department of wildlife and game wardens to determine what animal may be causing these gruesome killings, but have not released any further details to the public.

Police have urged the public to stay within city limits and avoid camping and other outdoor recreation until the animal is apprehended and put down. Local government officials are in talks of implementing a city curfew if the animal is not caught soon."

You listened half heartedly to the news as you pinned another music poster on your wall of your new apartment. Mind you the apartment itself was not new, in-fact very decrepit. A cigarette perched in the side of your lips as you concentrated. A 'vintage' Rolling Stones poster. You stood back and admired the new addition, one more thing to make this dingy place feel like a home.

Your roommate Vickey walked in from the kitchen, handing you a coffee. "Stones huh? Always a classic, I can't complain." She grinned. Vickey was the only person you knew in the entire state of California. You had answered her ad in the paper about looking for a roommate. You had finally gotten a job as a music journalist assistant for a local magazine print. It was small but just enough to get by and get your foot in. Music was your passion, and music journalism at that.

Vickey was a goth punk with black choppy hair, a blunt attitude and big in the rock scene; especially in LA, so the arrangement was working out swimmingly. She took a genuine interest in your work and would supportingly read all your writings and offer insider knowledge about shows. The two of you quickly becoming close friends.

"Another animal attack happened yesterday." Vickey said sipping her coffee. "Pretty crazy shit." . You sort of glaze over that statement, still focused on your interior design pursuit. "An entire family, shredded."

"Yeah that's crazy.." you say tranced on your new poster.

The TV reporter continues:

"In related news, a local church group has began petitioning the state of California for a total recall of all metal and rock music from its shelves, claiming the genres are the primary contributor to LA's recent uptick in crime, violence, and potentially a connection to the recent killings, they say."

Your neck snaps to the tv at this. Vickey scoffs. "Here we go again with these fuckin prudes and their protests." She flops on the couch and starts rolling a joint. "Is this a common occurrence then?" You ask, sort of laughing. Vickey doesn't break from her intense focus on her joint rolling; "The day the churches stop blaming everything on the rock scene is the day the last whore stops working the sunset strip. Shits been happening for generations pretty much. You just gotta ignore it." She grumbles.

"Right. Huh.." you mumble to yourself.

"You know- this could be a good story for the print." You blurt out. Vickey looks up, ushering her joint to you, but you decline by wiggling your cigarette in your lips. "Nah. This shits been covered a million times dude. Those uptight nuns have nothing new to spew anyways." She replies. "No no not for the church, Vickey, but the scene." You countered her. Her expression changed now more intrigued. "Oh? How so?". You pace around gently in thought. "From the rock scenes perspective on it. We ask them what THEY think about it all. Like the musicians and shit." Vickey chuckles and coughs out a cloud of smoke, "I dunno I don't think any local band is gonna give you the time of day unless you got drugs or can give good hea- well, actually..." She gets lost in thought for a moment. "I think I might know a couple musicians that MIGHT be willing to say a few words on the matter. -" you jump slightly with a mute excitement. "BUT- I can't guarantee you'll get anything of real substance from them.." she tries to ease your hopes down on her half offer but your excitement is apparent. "Vickey seriously?! That would mean the world to me. Who is it? When can I see them?!" Vickey smiles at your innocent enthusiasm to go willingly into the guttural den of rock.

"It's a local band called Guns N Roses. They're playing down at the troubadour tomorrow night. I'll see if I can get you in."

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After months of dancing around their emotions, Javier and Paloma finally address the tension between them head-on.

WORD COUNT: ~9.2k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smuttt, bulge riding, dry humping, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), descriptions of violence against women, vomit mention, slut shaming(?), detective!javi is very gorgeous ME, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: we did it… we did it joe !! javi and OFC finally [REDACTED] !! thank u to everyone who has been keepin up w this foolery so far, it makes my lil heart happy to see engagement < 3 also wanna say that years of watching criminal minds is finally starting to pay off and i rly hope u guys are enjoying the crime aspect of the plot because i'm havin A LOT of fun writing and developing it !! shit is gonna get twisted and intricate so brace yourselves for where we're about to go !!! the smut in this chapter is heavily inspired by touch it by ariana grande so i def recommend giving that a listen bc i feel like it just fits their vibe so well (i may or may not have used some of the lyrics in the dialogue.. oop!) last thing sooo irrelevant but mayor abbott looks like jonathan bailey (bridgerton hive RISE!!) in my head so take that as u will xoxo always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo’s authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder?” 

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier’s stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“Talk to us, Cecelia.” 

“Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won’t know more details until I do the autopsy.” The coroner answers before continuing,” Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays.” 

Javier’s jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff’s lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It’s fucking infuriating. 

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest. 

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he’s faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can’t scratch. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“What’s interestin’, though, is this,” She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica’s body and that’s when Javi sees it.

“Is that vomit?” 

Cecelia nods, “It is. I’m betting it’s hers. The interestin’ bit isn’t that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see.” 

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can’t discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that’s when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“It’s flesh. Human flesh.” 

Shit. He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“Son of a bitch is feedin’ people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton’s missin’ leg. What the fuck is goin’ on here?” The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that’s been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there’s Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases. 

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that’s something worth considering now,” Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves,” Seems like they found their type. There’s got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology.” 

They’ve migrated over to Jessica’s body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It’s not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin’ the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants.” 

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It’s harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn’t say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, everyone trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he’d feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“Ya mind stoppin’ by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these.” Romeo’s gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods as the sun slowly begins to set. 

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier’s cruiser.

“Sure.” He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they’ve discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he’s doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that was both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It’s a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it’s the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It’s a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it’s not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there’s no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he’s come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he’s able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she’s prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she’s wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She’s giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn’t a boy–– he’s a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She’s been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he’d be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he’d buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it’s the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn’t make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she’s practically skipping over to the driver’s side of the cruiser.

“Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night?” She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can’t outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“M’not here for games, Paloma.” 

She’s taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“Well excuse me for tryin’ to make conversation. Wasn’t aware that you’re in a mood today.” 

There’s a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“And I’m not looking to have a conversation. You can go.” 

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“What’s goin on’? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night?” She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“Jesus,” Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart.” Why do you always think that’s the fuckin’ problem whenever I don’t want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don’t act like it.” 

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez’s body dumped out in a ditch. S’not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss.” 

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she’d seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn’t question it, knowing it’s because of what they found today and she doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking her turmoil, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It’s been days since Jessica’s death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“Drop it and move on, Paloma.” 

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything’s fine! It’s not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she’s decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier’s broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It’s brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they’re just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He’s acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. Though now she’s caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks. 

It really doesn’t help that they’re shoulder to shoulder. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, infiltrates her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she’s the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn’t be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he’ll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever’s hand and meet whoever else, then he’d leave. It’s a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right. 

“There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line?” The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It’s worth a million dreams.” He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“Mr. Abbott—” 

“Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now.” 

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin’ us to your home.” 

“Always a pleasure to have you ’round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage.” 

Javier can’t help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor’s overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah’s behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man’s smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It’s a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma’s legs, though Javi can clearly see that she’s not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor’s charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier’s opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn’t do it blatantly in front of the sheriff’s face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn’t give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can’t shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn’t align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She’s far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band.” 

“A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show.” 

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier’s jaw flinches.

“Now Romeo, why have you been keepin’ this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin’ the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas!” 

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin’ the war on drugs on Uncle Sam’s behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he’s had to face, they wouldn’t be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It’s a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he’s made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“Gotta keep ’em humble. Keeps the head on straight.” Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor. 

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me.” 

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word ’no’ is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he’s exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it?” She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“If they don’t, they will. I’ll introduce you when it’s time.” 

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “Okay,” accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It’s apparent that he’s not accustomed to hearing the word ’no’.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“Guess I owe ya twenty bucks.” Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet. 

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“She bet that he was gonna pull somethin’ like this before leavin’ the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t.” He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“How many times do I have to say m’not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I’m polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—-” She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she’s thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she’s enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking to join her which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she’s getting.

This isn’t even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style space and she winces at noise.

“Excuse me, sorry–– I’m not very good with these things.” The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what’s to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It’s unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah’s arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that’s right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they’re nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the back porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it’s the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“We need to talk.” 

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she’ll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I’m standin’ here tryin’ to speak with you?!” Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent thick as each word is laden with an intensity that he can’t ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It’s a small concession, but it’s enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“I dunno why you’ve decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden,” she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “You’re tellin’ me that I’m bein’ childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it’s so much bigger than that. We’ve been dancin’ around it since the moment we met and I’m tired of pretendin’ like I don’t want you.” 

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“I told myself I wouldn’t care if you didn’t feel the same way,” She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn’t want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly…” 

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension through his body. It’s a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it’s all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a hurricane.

“Every time I see you I don’t want to behave, Javi. I’m tired of being patient, so let’s pick up the pace and finally give in.” 

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn’t back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn’t make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they’ve been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles’ heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“It’s obviously insane, m’not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don’t we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“Why don’t we fall in love?” 

It’s not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma’s hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier’s lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention?” He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“Yes, Javi, that’s all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good.” 

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it’s gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is addicting, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming at her pussy. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it’s never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she’s the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly cup her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn’t touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me.” 

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She’s such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“I’m close, Javi…” His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can’t help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“Don’t get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn’t want your daddy comin’ out here and findin’ you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked.” 

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm. 

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“Need… need to feel you, Javi, please.” She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she’s craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn’t, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t do this, Paloma…” Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“Mierda,” He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“But we want to… oh you’re so big Javi. Gonna be feelin’ you for days…” She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can’t hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn’t push her luck–– she needs him badly and she’d go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There’s a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other’s lust blown eyes.

“Don’t think about it too much, please. Just fuck me.” 

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts his hips so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn’t even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess.” 

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “Please, Javi, I’ll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck!” 

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that’s making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“Damn it you’re so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I’m giving you what you want, huh?” He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he’s making her feel. “Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass.” 

She’s too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There’s no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She’s glad that they’re far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she’d ever admit. 

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn’t far from coming undone.

“C’mon nena, be a good girl and let go,” His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few expletives before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit.” Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me)” 

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he’s made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he’s spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that’d be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he’s made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“That was a mistake.” 

His statement cuts through the night air and she’s already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“Javi––” 

“No, Paloma, I’m fucking serious.” He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You’re just a distraction–– a pretty face that’s been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there’s another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I’m too busy babysitting you.” 

“Don’t you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier,” She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration,” I’ve seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S’not my fault you’re not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin’ hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations.” 

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she’s going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier’s jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“Look at you, Paloma,” He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn’t spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free.” 

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid, querida,” He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How ’bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I’m sure he’s eager to give you all the male validation you’re clearly chasing after.” He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won’t be long before he knocks you up and you’re stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town.” 

Paloma’s heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“Fuck you,” She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier Peña.” 

With those final words, ones he’s heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can’t afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she’ll get over it.

With a resigned sigh, he retrieves another cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm raging about.

[icegirl2772]

My Intro and Fics

Note: This will be edited as I continue working on my stories.

I've been lurking on Tumblr on and off for years now. But I've been getting more active on here that I've really gotten back into writing fanfiction. So, it may seem silly, but I felt an intro was in order.

I'm IceGirl2772. You can call me Ice or Icey. I've been writing fanfiction since I was 10 or 11. If you look at my FFN stuff... be prepared for the cringe. But nowadays, I am much more active on AO3.

Here is my profile link (AO3). Since the post is gonna be lengthy, as I provide a bit of background for the fandoms I write for and the stories I have, I'm adding a Read More. But in short, I write for the following fandoms (in alphabetical order): Big Time Rush (TV Series), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Case (video game), Harry Potter, Loonatics Unleashed, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 series), Thunderbirds (1965 series) and Transformers: Prime. Everything is fandom blind friendly.

Just a fair warning: I list a lot of the tags my fics have, and a few of them are NSFW. I'm also gonna be updating this as I go, so it's subject to constant change.

I'm gonna do my fandoms in alphabetical order for simplicity's sake.

Big Time Rush

I have three fics in this fandom to date:

Take a Shot in the Dark | Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | James Diamond/Original Female Character, Background Kendall Knight/Jo Taylor, Background Logan Mitchell/Camille Roberts, Brief Original Male Character/Original Female Character | Kendall Knight, Kaelyn Knight (OC), James Diamond, Logan Mitchell, Carlos Garcia, Katie Knight, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainwright, Palm Woods Kids, Jennifer Knight | Kendall Has a Twin Sister, Songwriting, Childhood Friends, Male-Female Friendship, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Chaos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 16 Chapters | 129k Words | WIP

She was always along for the ride. The twin sister. The best friend. But now, Kaelyn Knight was about to become the heart and soul of Big Time Rush as Gustavo takes her under his wing.

Going to Hollywood is certain to change the boys. But how will it change Kaelyn?

This fic holds a special place in my heart because I went back and forth on this idea for years, and it was actually through some of the friends I met here on Tumblr that I got the courage to post it. So... thanks.

Better Than Neil | Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | James Diamond/Original Female Character | James Diamond, Kaelyn Knight (OC), Original Male Character(s), Background & Cameo Characters | Teen Romance, Teenagers, Can Be Read Standalone, Snippets, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Fade to Black (kinda), James Diamond is Actually a Great Boyfriend | 1.4k Words | Complete

Kaelyn thinks of all the ways James is a better boyfriend than her ex.

aka an idea that would not leave me alone. :P I also wanted to gift this to @myloveforhergoeson because she's been a massive support to me as I write Take a Shot in the Dark. Thanks for everything, mate. :)

We Do (But Friends Don't) | Explicit | Underage | James Diamond/Original Female Character | James Knight, Kaelyn Knight (OC), Kendall Knight, Carlos Garcia, Logan Mitchell, Jennifer Knight, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainwright, Palm Woods Kids | Horny Teenagers, Adolescent Sexuality, Teenagers Having Sex, First Time, Safe Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Jealous James Diamond, Friends with Benefits, Idiots in Love, Characters Are 16 Years Old, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Might Be Out of Character | 4/24 Chapters | 15k Words | WIP

Neither of them meant for this to happen. For James Diamond and Kaelyn Knight, the rules were clear. It was meant to be just sex. They were best friends first and foremost. It would stay between them. No feelings.

But neither of them considered the feelings that were already there.

Yet another idea that wouldn't leave me alone. I was about to let this idea wither away and die, but I met some... very corrupting influences. (You know who you are. ;)) And here we are. Special shoutout to @partiallypearl for helping me with the title. :)

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

First Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Season 2 of Big Time Rush

Second Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Big Time Movie

Third Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Seasons 3 and 4 of Big Time Rush

Odd one-shots

My Secret Santa gift (which I am keeping under wraps ;))

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

I only have one fic in this fandom to date:

Butterfly | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Past Nick Stokes/Original Female Character | Nick Stokes, Kadelyn 'Kady' Stokes (OC), Original Characters, Warrick Brown, Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Sara Side, Greg Sanders, Jim Brass | Nick Stokes Whump, Nick Stokes as a Single Father, Father-Daughter Relationship, Family Feels, Family Bonding, Season/Series 01, Past Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 8/24 Chapters | 12k Words | WIP

There was no denying the life of a CSI is a hard one. Different horrors every night shift. Different monsters emerging from the shadows. Always a new crime - some more horrific than others. Nick Stokes has always been one of the most empathetic CSIs, so he was often one of the most affected on the night shift.

But then, he thinks of a little girl waiting for him at home, and remembers his determination to make the world a better place for her. For his daughter. For Kadelyn. And the weight of the world is instantly lifted off his shoulders when he says two words: 'Hey, butterfly.'

This fic is a rewrite of a very old, very cringey fic I had up on my FFN. All of the chapters are very short and focus on a moment between Nick and his young daughter before, during or after an episode.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

Stories of a similar vain to this one - all focusing on each season of the show. All named after butterfly in different languages.

Criminal Case (video game)

(There's literally no GIF for the fandom)

I have four fics in this fandom to date:

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Grimsborough | Mature | Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death | David Jones/Player Character | Avery Samuels (Player Character substitute), David Jones, Samuel King, Nathan Pandit, Grace Delaney, Alex Turner, Eduardo Ramirez | Season 1: Grimsborough, Police Procedural, POV First Person, Co-Workers to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Miscarriage, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Suicide, Bombs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Heteroromantic Bisexual Character, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Racism, Past Character Death, Death of a Child (referenced), Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Sad Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 74/122 Chapters | 612k Words | WIP

After completing her education at the police academy, Avery Samuels is ready for her career as a police officer in the Grimsborough Police Department to begin. She is assigned to work with David Jones, her older brother's childhood best friend. How will things unfold between the two of them as Avery navigates her new job and her new life?

This is something I originally wrote on Wattpad, and I wanted to save it when I deactivated my Wattpad account. So, I transferred it to AO3 and kept it going. It is certainly going to be a wild ride.

Nothing For You Here | Teen and Up | Past David Jones/Charlotte Jones, Brief David Jones/Player Character at the End | David Jones, Charlotte Jones, Background Original Character, Cameo from Player Character at the End | Set After the Conspiracy, Regrets, Rejection, Whumptober 2024, r/FanfictionExchange, Rated T Because This Author is Paranoid About Ratings | 2.6 Words | Complete

Charlotte had always feared rejection. It was why she waited this long to go to Jones and tell him she wanted him back. But even if a small part of her was prepared for the rejection, it didn't make it hurt any less.

r/FanfictionExchange Whumptober 2024 Fic. Prompt: Rejection

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Whump Entry.

Something Right | Explicit | David Jones/Player Character | David Jones, Avery Samuels (OC/Player Character) | POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Porn with Plot, Oral Sex, Couch Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Missionary Sex, Friends to Lovers, My First Attempt at First Person POV Smut, Female Perspective, r/FanfictionExchange, OCTober 2024 | 4.5k Words | Complete

When Avery comes home from a trip, she wonders if she did something wrong leaving Jones with easy access to her journals to tell him what she couldn't. But she finds that she did something right.

AKA when Jones and Avery would finally get together if The Adventures of Avery Samuels unfolded differently.

r/FanfictionExchange OCtober 2024 fic. Prompt: Friends to Lovers

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my OC Entry.

Welcome to the Rest of Your Life, David Jones | Not Rated (TBD) | David Jones/Player Character | David Jones, Avery Samuels (OC/Player Character) | Minor Character Death, POV First Person, Friends to Lovers, Retelling of a Story Through Someone Else's Eyes, Rating To Be Determined, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 1 Chapter | 7.1k Words | In Progress

It was meant to be a punishment. At least, that was how Chief King had described being assigned a rookie officer to David Jones. But then, he walked into the office and saw not a punishment, but the beginning of the rest of his life.

Or 'The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Grimsborough' told from Jones' POV.

This was something I was toying with for a while now, and I just finally decided to take the plunge. Besides, I had a lot of fun doing the couple of chapters from Jones' POV. So, I thought to myself, 'Why not?'

Properly Improper | Explicit | Arthur Wright/Player Character | Arthur Wright, Emily Campbell (OC/Player Character) | 1890s, Season 4: Mysteries of the Past (Criminal Case), Older Man/Younger Woman, Office Sex, Alternate History, Somewhat Quickie, Not Beta Read, The Author Regrets Everything | 3.3k Words | Complete

Alone in the chief’s office aboard the airship, the usually uptight Chief Arthur Wright finds it can be fun to be properly improper with his young bride.

This is me making a very interesting introduction to my new Criminal Case OC. This is Emily Campbell, and she is Avery’s ancestor. I’m setting her up for when I start writing a fanfiction for Mysteries of the Past. I was planning to wait until I finish Avery’s story in World Edition, but I could end up bringing it forward because I’ve basically got everything set in stone for the whole series. I’ll decide in the New Year. :)

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Pacific Bay - Title subject to change. Sequel to Welcome to Grimsborough. Follows Avery in Pacific Bay.

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Save the World - Title subject to change. Sequel to Grimsborough and Pacific Bay. Follows Avery during her tenure in the Bureau.

Mysteries of the Past: The Adventures of Emily Campbell - Spin-off focusing on Avery's ancestor Emily Campbell as she moves from England to Concordia. Based on Season 4 of Criminal Case.

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: A Final Conspiracy - Follows Avery as she returns to Grimsborough. Will be the final story in the series. (I'm not doing Seasons 6-8.)

Some one-shots of varying ratings.

Harry Potter

I have two works in this fandom:

Just a Man | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Unnamed Hufflepuff Student, Background & Cameo Characters, Various Characters Mentioned But Not Seen | Voldemort Dies, Past Character Death, Second Wizarding War with Voldemort, Battle of Hogwarts Aftermath, More Book Than Film Based, POV First Person | 575 Words | Complete

The thoughts of an unidentified Hufflepuff student in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts.

This is my very first work in the Harry Potter fandom. I'm a Hufflepuff, so this was born out of me wanting to shine a bit more of a spotlight on the house.

Even If | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Neville Longbottom, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Character | Gryffindor, Gryffindors Being Gryffindors, Introspection, Based on Film Adaptations | 1.8k Words | Complete

It was a question that many Hogwarts students asked, regardless of whether they were planed in Gryffindor or another house. It was certainly asked as the dark days loomed. When certain events brought that question to the forefront more than ever.

What did it mean to be brave?

I wrote this thinking of a message by a local antibullying organisation: Speak - even if your voice shakes.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

My plans are very fluid. I am hoping to write more one-shots. I don't see myself writing a mutli-chaptered story in this fandom.

Loonatics Unleashed

I have two fics in this fandom so far:

A Million Things | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Ace Bunny, Brylee Bunny (OC), Lexi Bunny, Danger Duck, Slam Tasmanian, Tech E. Coyote, Rev Runner, Zadavia, Various Character(s) | Childbirth, Character Adopted at Birth, Interspecies Family, Found Family, Ace Bunny as a Big Brother, Diabetes, Menstruation, Coming-of-Age, Canon-Typical Violence, Bullying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 21/27 Chapters | 110k Words | WIP

Brylee Bunny is a million things. An orphan. A teenage girl. An aspiring photographer. A diabetic. An outcast. A... superhero? Brylee is thrust into her new life: a life where she has superpowers and she, along with her adoptive brother Ace and five other individuals, save the world from evil on a daily basis. How will she adapt to her new life as a superhero? Especially when it brings up even more questions about the family who abandoned her at birth?

I started writing this on FFN several years ago and decided to bring it over to AO3 when I decided to make AO3 my main fanfic site.

Pull Ya Heads Out | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Ace Bunny/Lexi Bunny | Ace Bunny, Lexi Bunny, Brylee Bunny (OC) | Post-Acmegeddon: Part 2, Acexi, My OG OTP, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Flufftober 2024, Love Confessions, Mentions of Angsty Events, My OC is a Cheeky Little Shit, r/FanfictionExchange | 2.5k Words | Complete

After certain events unfolded (re: defeating your boss's evil brother), Brylee decided that two certain bunnies need to pull their heads out and tell each other how they feel.

r/FanfictionExchange Flufftober 2024 Fic. Prompt: Love Confessions

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Fluff Entry, and I decided to use this opportunity to pay tribute to my original OTP.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

A Million and One Things - Sequel to A Million Things. Follows Brylee during the events of season two.

A Million More Things - Sequel to A Million Things and A Million and One Things. The final story in the Brylee Bunny trilogy.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 series)

I have three fics in this fandom so far:

In the Darkness | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC), Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, Hamato Yoshi / Splinter, April O'Neil | Canon-Typical Violence, Interspecies Relationship, Interspecies Romance, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 19 Chapters | 84k Words | WIP

They introduced her to their world, now she can introduce them to hers.

What can possibly go wrong?

Something I started writing eight years ago and originally got abandoned, but renewed interest thanks to review exchanges on Reddit (along with rewatching the show) got me back into this.

Mine | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC) | Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn, Knifeplay, Aged-Up Characters, Leo in Heat, Yeah I'm Doing My Own Take on This, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Oral Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Multiple Orgasms, Does This Count As Rough Sex?, Characters Are 18 Years Old, Pussy Slapping, My First Attempt at Interspecies Sex, First Time, Light BDSM, dom!leo, I'm Bad at Tagging, No Concrit Please | 4.6k Words | Complete

Usually, Alina stayed away when the Turtles were in heat. Well, at least from Leo, who was most affected by her presence. That changed in their eighteenth year.

Same ol' story. An idea wouldn't leave me alone. Met some bad influences who encouraged this. I wanted to see if this was something I could explore down the line in my current Leo/Alina series, so this also served as a... test balloon of sorts.

Such a Good Girl | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC) | Porn, Interspecies Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Praise Kink, Kinktober 2024, r/FanfictionExchange, dom!Leo, Sex Toys, Penis in Vagina Sex | 3.3k Words | Complete

Leo and Alina sequester themselves away from the world as they work through Leo's heat together, making some surprising discoveries about each other.

Somewhat sequel to 'Mine', but can be read standalone.

r/FanfictionExchange Kinktober 2024 Fix. Prompt: Praise Kink.

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Kink Entry, and I decided to use this opportunity to do a somewhat sequel to Mine.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

First In the Darkness Sequel - follows season 2 of TMNT 2012

Second In the Darkness Sequel - follows season 3 of TMNT 2012

Third In the Darkness Sequel - follows first half of season 4 of TMNT 2012

Fourth In the Darkness Sequel - follows second half of season 4 of TMNT 2012

Fifth In the Darkness Sequel - follows some of season 5 of TMNT

Potential for various one-shots focusing on Leo and Alina

Thunderbirds (1965 series)

I have six stories in this fandom. It's by far my most active:

The Thunderbird and the Doctor | Mature | Graphic Descriptions of Violence | Scott Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Alan Tracy/Tin-Tin Kyrano, Background Virgil Tracy/Original Female Character | Scott Tracy, Tracy Family, Indiana Evans (OC) | Based on Original Series, Scott Needs Some Loving, They Need a Doctor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Narcissism, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Kidnapping, Birth Control (one chapter), Pregnancy, Brief Descriptions of Labour | 50/50 Chapters | 292k Words | Complete

There was a missing component to International Rescue, Jeff Tracy felt. They needed a doctor. So, he found one. Dr. Indiana Evans was one of the best-known trauma surgeons. She wants to make a difference. Little did she know how much her life would change along the way.

This baby was what got me back into fanfiction writing full time. So, seeing this complete felt very bittersweet. In many ways, it's my first baby.

The Thunderbird and the Doctor After Dark | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Scott Tracy/Original Female Character | Scott Tracy, Indiana Evans (OC) | Porn, Porn with Feelings, Some Plot, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, One Shot Collection, Additional Warnings in Author's Note, Unprotected Sex, Masturbation, Multiple Sex Positions, Hand Jobs, No Dialogue (some chapters), Cunnilingus, Mutual Masturbation, Medical Kink, Sexual Roleplay, 5+1 Things, Cockblocking, This Author Sucks at Dirty Talk, Temperature Play, Restraints, Blindfolds, Aftercare, Bathtub Sex, Light BDSM, Couch Sex, Birthday Sex | 23/25 Chapters | 55k Words | WIP

The missing scenes from The Thunderbird and the Doctor. What exactly do Scott and Indiana get up to behind closed doors?

This is my smut collection. It's the missing sex scenes from the main story, but you can read it without reading the main story. Especially if you're just looking for some smut.

The Thunderbird and the Geologist | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Virgil Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Scott Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Alan Tracy/Tin-Tin Kyrano | Virgil Tracy, Arizona Adams (OC), Tracy Family | Sequel, References to Previous Story, Past Character Death, Falling in Love, Happy Ending, Might Contain Inaccuracies, Child of Death Adults (CODA), American Sign Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 8 Chapters | 25k Words | WIP

Sequel to 'The Thunderbird and the Doctor'.

We saw Scott find his missing piece. How about Virgil? It was pure fate that saw Virgil meeting Dr. Arizona Adams, a world-renowned geologist who also happens to be Indiana's childhood best friend. Will their road to happily ever after be smooth sailing?

This is the second story in a series I'm planning focusing on each Tracy brother and their love story. It's early days, but I'm happy with it so far.

The Solution Was Simple | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jeff Tracy | Pre-Canon, Pre-IR, Reflection, Written on my iPad | 2k Words | Complete

Jeff reflects on the sacrifices he's asking his sons to make for his dreams, and is resolved to do what he can to rectify that.

I wrote this one-shot on a plane trip actually (personal note: never write on an iPad again). I actually posted it on the anniversary I started posting The Thunderbird and the Doctor, which made it even more special.

A Tropical White Christmas | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tracy Family, Original Characters, Penelope Creighton-Ward, Tin-Tin Kyrano, Background & Cameo Characters | Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Snowball Fight, Snow on a Tropical Island, References to Canon, Pregnant Character | 1.5k Words | Complete

Brains had given the Tracy family a great gift this Christmas. One they were determined to make use of.

This is written in reference to the Thunderbirds episode Give or Take a Million, where Brains made it snow on Tracy Island. So, the boys enjoy it the old-fashioned way. This was written as part of the Winter Fest on the FanfictionExchange subreddit and gifted to @kristylime, a good friend of mine and co-mod who gave me the idea. Thanks, mate.

Down and Up | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jeff Tracy/Lucille Tracy | Jeff Tracy, Lucille Tracy | First Meetings, Love at First Sight, No Dialogue | 1.9k Words | Complete

Two people experiencing an unlucky day meet at a train station, and their day looks up.

I wrote this in response to the Fate and Luck Fest on the FanfictionExchange subreddit.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

The Thunderbird and the Photographer - Gordon's love story with photographer Mirabel Marks.

The Thunderbird and the Author - John's love story with author Adalyn Rowe.

The Thunderbird and His Sweetheart - Alan's love story with Tin-Tin

Odd one-shots

Not in this fandom, but I am thinking of doing a fic based on the reboot with a new OC, but similar to The Thunderbird and the Doctor

Transformers: Prime

I have two fics in this fandom:

Save You | Explicit | Graphic Descriptions of Violence | Jack Darby/Original Female Character, Optimus Prime/Arcee | Talida Prime, Jack Darby, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Ratchet, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, William Fowler, Starscream, Decepticons | Kidnapping, Torture, Teen Romance, Rewrite, Amputation, Aftermath of Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Might Contain Medical Inaccuracies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Is This a Dead Dove Fic? | 23/23 Chapters | 64k Words | Complete

What if Jack somehow discovered the existence of the Autobots earlier than planned? His best friend has disappeared and he soon discovers that there is more to her disappearance than meets the eye.

This is a rewrite of a story I brought over from FFN, which is in turn a rewrite of my original Talida Prime series. I wasn't happy with what I was doing and had done, so it led to this.

Zombie | Explicit | Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage | Jack Darby/Original Female Character, Optimus Prime/Arcee | Jack Darby, Talida Prime, Original Characters, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Cliffjumper, Miko Nakadai, Rafael "Raf" Esquivel, William Fowler, June Darby, Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Other Character Tags to Be Added | Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Past Torture, Past Abuse, Flashbacks, Season/Series 01, Amputee Character, Teen Romance, Eventual Smut, Characters Are 16 Years Old, Is This a Dead Dove?, Slight Alteration to Canon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 8 Chapters | 32k Words | WIP

Sequel to 'Save You'.

It's been two years. The Decepticons have retreated into the shadows. Talida is haunted by her experiences, but is slowly moving forward with the help of her loved ones. But the tranquility is disrupted when the Decepticons make a dramatic return to the scene, causing a significant blow to the Autobot forces and marking the resumption of a war that has haunted Talida since birth. The Autobots gear up for another fight alongside old and new allies, but will they all emerge unscathed?

As mentioned, this is a sequel to Save You. This follows season one of the show, but some changes will have to be made because, in this series, Jack knew about the Autobots before the show's canon.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

Sequels to Save You and Zombie. Unknown titles. Unknown if any other fics will crop up.