#possibly expect more i do not know how long this shall last

[triona-tribblescore]

Soooo uhhh, I watched Sonic 3...

Anyway completely irrelevant but guess what has made a comeback for my brain?

[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

[sspidrwebz]

IMPATIENCE | vi x fem!reader ft. vi - arcane

Summary | it’s been too long of her being gone and when she returns, she graciously lets you relieve that built up restlessness

Warnings / Tags | Smut, strap-on sex, no mention of y/n, no physical description of reader, nicknames (baby, babe, sweetheart, pretty girl, beautiful), breast play (if thats? what this is?? titty sucking idk, r!receiving), uhh praise kink if you squint AN | first fic im ever posting yall uhh expect more this week (guess what week it is chat cmon guess)

God, it felt like days since she’d been with you last. In reality, of course, it’d only been some hours. But lord, how could you help it? The mere thought of her sent a chill down your spine each and every time. And for good reason.

Hell, who could anyone possibly act normal with a woman like her?

Either way, you’re hopeless every moment she’s gone. You’ve tried touching yourself, but in the end you know damn well that nothing will ever feel as deliciously good as her.

That’s why when she finally returned, you were all over her. Begged like you knew she liked; she loved knowing you wanted her, treasured her. She happily let you have some time with her to get all that, shall we say, energy out of your system.

You whimpered occasionally as you moved yourself up and down, your hips stuttering as her strap slid in and out of your pathetically wet pussy.

“Ohh, poor baby,” Vi cooed softly, a sympathetic sound to her voice as she reveled in the desperation that’s accentuated by your heated expression. “Really missed me, huh?”

You nodded weakly, letting out a strangled “mhm” that was quickly cut off by a moan. You felt as if you couldn’t afford to cease your movements, but it was becoming evident that you still couldn’t work yourself the same as she could. “V-Vi, help.. please..”

Her eyes softened at your pleading. “You want some help, babe? Damn, I thought I taught you better than that,” she teased. You whined in response and Vi quickly reassured you. “Aww, it’s okay, sweetheart, you know I’m just fucking with you.”

With that, she thrusted her hips upward, not too sharply, not too suddenly, but just enough to rip a low moan from your throat. Vi let out a soft groan herself in response to the sound.

“Attagirl, there you go.. love your voice, baby, always do,” Vi said quietly, helping you create a steady rhythm as she bucked her hips and you began to move with her.

After you proved to get the hang of it, Vi laid herself back down on the mattress as she watched in satisfaction. She slipped a hand under your shirt, caressing your stomach lightly as she looked up at you.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” You nodded midway through her question, causing her to grin in further amusement. She wordlessly and smoothly pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side, and her eyes widened a bit.

“Aww,” Vi said lightly, observing your unexpectedly bare chest. “No bra, babe? Fuck, you really were needing this.” She laughed lightly, careful not to disrupt you as you continued riding her like a bull. She laid her hand on your side, thumb rubbing against the skin of your breast.

You whimpered sharply, knowing damn well what that usually meant. You couldn’t bring yourself to protest just yet, though.

Vi, without warning, leaned closer and before you knew it, her mouth latched onto your breast, sucking gently at first as her tongue played with your hard nipple.

You mewled at the feeling, panting heavier as you fought to keep her strap moving inside you, your hips messily slamming down and causing you to grow louder and louder.

Vi pulled her mouth away from your tit just long enough to speak, a trail of saliva connected her to your skin. “Good fucking girl, that’s it. You look so damn pretty like this, you hear me? So proud of you, baby.”

You moaned and whined endlessly, every other thought drowned out by Vi. You kept going, neither of you stopping until both agreed to. Your cum leaked out, beautifully dripping down Vi’s strap as you whimpered softly.

Vi pressed her forehead to yours as you began to collapse. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.. yeah, Vi.. l-love you too..”

“Love you more, beautiful.”

[nottswitch]

— 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

cw: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

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You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

i wish you’d write a threesome with aemond, reader, and someone else of your choosing! 🖤

Here you are, my love, a tidbit for you...

"If he tries to take you, you must not resist."

The statement catches her off guard as she lies next to her husband in his bed, keeping to his unburned side, knowing it will cause him the least discomfort.

When Aegon had first taken to his sickbed, a mess of melted flesh and broken bones, she had wept, not knowing if he would ever be whole again. For six long months she had kept vigil by his bedside, watching anxiously as Maester Orwyle had worked fastidiously to make him well. He slept nine hours out of every ten, and when he was lucid he simply moaned in pain and begged for his next draught of poppy milk.

It is only in recent weeks that he is well enough to rise from his bed with assistance, though he cannot walk far. He can now hold a conversation without gasping for breath, addled by pain. Even his voracity has returned, to a degree. He is under strict instructions to not attempt to lay with his wife, however, it has not prevented him from commanding her to lay beside him on the bed as he brings her to peak on his fingers.

"Who?" She asks softly, brow furrowing in concern, as she softly strokes his forehead. A subtle way to check that his words are not feverish ramblings.

"Aemond," he replies simply. "He covets my crown, at the cost of my life. I expect he will want all that goes with it, my Queen included."

She swallows thickly. She had long suspected foul play had been behind Aemond's sudden rise to the position of Prince Regent, however, it is the first she has heard it spoken aloud. However, in the midst of war she is certain that laying claim to her will be the last thing on his mind.

"I'm sure your brother has more pressing matters to attend to, my love," she reassures him.

"I mean it," he says, voice strained and fraught with emotion. "Give him what he wants. I will gladly share you if it spares your life."

It not two weeks later that she sits straddling Aegon's face, a knee either side of his head on the pillow as he laps greedily at her sticky core, the throbbing sensation making it almost impossible to keep her hips still as she grips the headboard with such force it turns her knuckles white.

She is tentative in how she positions herself, careful in her movements, not wishing to hurt him. If it were up to her, they would not be doing this at all in the first place, however, he had been insistent in his demands.

"If I do not get a taste of your cunt soon, I fear I shall go mad. Have mercy on a cripple."

She had giggled at his brashness and finally relented, and is glad she had. The art of pleasure is something that even more than half a year spent infirm could not make Aegon forget.

The doors to the bed chamber burst open, robbing her of the sweet oblivion she had teetered upon the edge of and making her startle. She gasps as Aemond announces his presence, sweeping into the room as he throws the doors closed behind him.

She desperately tries to scramble away from Aegon, to make herself look presentable, but he holds firm to her thighs, keeping her precisely where she is.

Her skin burns hot with humiliation as Aemond slowly advances towards the bedside, clearly unbothered by the spectacle he has walked in on. He looms over the bed side, looking down at her as she gazes back up, eyes wide and fearful.

"It appears to me," he tells her softly, "that my brother has not made available to me all of the resources necessary for me to rule the Kingdom in his stead."

Her eyes drop to where his fingers now work open the lacings of his trousers, her heart thudding at the sight, mind racing with the possibilities of what he means to do.

"I require the services of the Queen," he continues, "and I expect her to be forthcoming."

Her throat runs dry as he frees himself, the tip of his erection already glistening with arousal.

Aemond reaches out, his fingers sinking into her hair as he cups the back of her head, pulling her forward, the head of him pressing against her lips.

"Is that understood?"

She hesitates, and feels Aegon give her thighs an encouraging squeeze.

"If he tries to take you, you must not resist." The words echo in her mind, and she parts her lips, allowing him to push forward into her mouth.

The taste of him upon her tongue is sharp and unfamiliar, though not unpleasant. And as she feels her husband's tongue begin to lap at her folds once more, while his brother thrusts slowly into her throat, she decides that in war they must all make sacrifices, and that if her body is to be forfeit then she will gladly yield.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Romantic Experiment

SUMMARY: They want you to assist them with a simple experiment. They'll show you how it's done, maybe try to convince you to join the science club and definitely flirt along the way.

CHARACTERS: Science Club (Trey Clover / Rook Hunt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Dating; Romantic Relationship; Flirting

WARNING: Do Not try Rook's experiment at home! Mercury is very Toxic! Trey's experiment is safe, tho.

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.330 words per character.

COMMENTS: If you follow me, you know that if I write more than 1k it's because I got excited and had more ideas than I expected. I relied on this page to learn about and describe the experiments. If I made a mistake somewhere, I studied arts, not science, ok? I’m sorry. 😅

I hope you enjoy 🧪

CONTEXT: Either you two are dating or already at the beginning of your relationship, so you're still in that flirting phase.

Trey and you were talking about the school clubs because you were wondering if you should join one. So, Trey suggests that you go with him to the science club one day to see if you like it and are interested in joining. But thinking about how demanding Professor Crewel can be, you comment that perhaps it is too difficult for you.

“Too difficult?” He smiled, that smile the other Heartslabyul students usually described as a protective older brother smile. “Don't worry, it's just a visit. And even if you want to join the club, no one will force you to do anything you can't do. We are free to do the experiences that interest us most. And of course, if you need help I will always be there for you.”

You met Trey at the classroom door just before the science club meeting started. Like you, he was already wearing his lab coat too.

“We're not going in yet.” He tells you. “I had an idea for a simple experiment that you might like. And I wanted you to participate in all the steps, or as many as possible, so I need you to come with me to get the components. Shall we?”

First you two go to Sam's Mystery Shop to buy yellow, cyan and magenta professional floral dyes and tonic water. You ask if the experiment is to make colorful flowers.

“I can't make that part a surprise, can I?” He says with a smile and his eyebrows arched in pity. “Let's say we're going to paint the roses but not just red. And speaking of which, they are the ones we are going to get now before going back to the classroom.”

Then he takes you to the botanical garden and leads you to a corner where white rose buds are growing.

“I took the liberty of planting them beforehand so we could start the experiment straight away.” He explains. “What you see are three different rose cultivars. Vendela, La Belle and Avalanche.” He indicates each one while saying the name. “They are said to be the best for absorbing dye. The dyeing process can take a few days, so an open bloom won’t last long enough. That's why we're going to use buds that have not fully opened. Could you help me pick them?” he asks rhetorically, just being the well-mannered man that he is.

If you take a moment to look at him concentrating on cutting the stems of the roses, he will smile at you, without taking his eyes off the flowers, and say: “As flattered as I am with you admiring me, I would really prefer it if you were more worried about not cutting yourself.” You were wearing gloves, so the rose thorns weren't as much of a concern as the scissors you were using to cut them.

He will finish picking his share of the roses faster than you pick yours, and he will stop to look at you. If you notice and look at him, he will say with a smirk: “I've already finished my part. Now it's my turn to admire you at work. You really are more attractive when you're focused.” and he will laugh at your reaction to that sudden comment. “Fine, I'll help you.” He says with his calm smile “Like I said, I don't want you to cut yourself.”

You only took the rose buds, but some of the other roses were already open. He picks one, hands it to you and in front of your eyes "Doodle Suit" the rose petals turn into your favorite color(s) with a soft whisper. You take the flower with a smile and he kisses your cheek.

He gets up, picks up the shopping bag with one hand and the dozen roses that you two picked with the other. “We can go back now. Everything else we need is already in the classroom.”

You were in the classroom with other science club members, but there was room for everyone. Trey was right, it was a simple and kind of relaxing experiment. You used a sharp blade to cut the stem of the roses into 3 sections. If you didn't feel confident using it, Trey would have no problem cutting the stems for you. You added dye and tonic water to three plastic bags. If you ask if you couldn't use regular water, he’ll say:

“Yes, regular water is commonly used, but tonic water creates a special effect that I want to be a surprise when I show it to you. So be patient okay?” he winks.

You carefully separated each section of stem and place it in its own bag of dyed water, used a rubber band to secure the bags to the roses and placed the flowers in a bud vase to keep them upright. You needed to place the flowers in a cool place, away from direct sunlight, so Trey suggested placing them under the table and making a sign warning other students to be careful.

“The petals will begin to change color within a couple of hours, but it may take a few days to achieve the best color.” He explains. “During this time, we need to make certain the roses don’t run out of liquid. Therefore, we may need to add more dyed water from time to time.”

For a couple of days you and Trey texted each other to arrange shifts to check the flowers and add more dye water. You saw the roses opening slowly and the the white petals turning into increasingly more vivid colors. The mixture of yellow, cyan and magenta made them a perfect rainbow color. You would often also find a small note written by Trey, usually inviting you to have tea and try some sweet treat that he made or was going to make for you.

And then one night, the two of you agreed to meet in the classroom because Trey thought the roses were ready. It was just the two of you. He turned on the lights and went to get the bouquet of rainbow roses. They were absolutely beautiful! He took out a flashlight and handed it to you.

“Do you want to find out what tonic water does?” He asked you with a quite excited smile. He takes his magic pen, points it at the lights in the room and turns them off. “Turn on the flashlight and point it at the roses.”

You do it. It was a black light that when pointed at the roses made them glow. The more amazed you are, the happier he will be. He hands you the bouquet and holds the lantern himself.

“I know this is going to sound a lot like Cater, but can I take a photo of you holding the roses? After all this was an experiment and I need to record the experiments I do.” You agree and he takes a photo with his cell phone while pointing the black light at the flowers. He looks at the photo with a smug smile.

“I can't wait to see Rook's face when he sees this photo.” You ask why. After all, this was a simple experiment. “It's not because of the experiment, it's because of the photo itself. It's a beautiful photo and he won't be able to deny it. And I'm not just talking about the roses.” He smirks.

You ask if it wouldn't be a good idea to take a photo with him too, after all he was the main scientist. He laughs, and agrees, and the two of you take a selfie with the flowers, the black light on the table and pointed at the two of you. He looked even more attractive with the rainbow glow of the roses pointing at him. And in the middle of the night. He looked at you with the same thought.

“So what you say? You'll join me at the science club. There are more exciting experiments we can do together.” He smirks, takes the bouquet and places it carefully on the table without taking his eyes off you, and breaking the distance that the roses were causing between the two of you. “What do you think about being my assistant? Tempting? Or is that just my lips?” You were indied looking at them, the same way he was looking at yours.

“My Dear Trickster!” Rook appeared out of nowhere, as he does so often, and with his lab coat on. He held your hand with one of his, your waist with the other and lovingly pulled you closer to him. “Fate is so generous in making me meet you at this moment!” He kisses your cheek.

“I was just now heading to the classroom where the science club meets and thinking about all the possibilities of new experiments I could do when I saw one on my list that would be merveilleuse to do with you of all people! S'il te plaît, come with me mon amour. I'll show you how much my heart beats for you!”

Instead of taking you to the classroom, he first took you to Mr. S's Mystery Shop, as you needed to buy the main component for that experiment.

“Welcome, little imps! Looking for a last-minute forgotten item perhaps?” Sam assumed from Rook's lab coat. And maybe he also knew about the science club meeting.

“A specific ingredient for a last-minute decided to be done experiment, would be more accurate.” Rook smiled. “As far as I know, such things are not an enemy to your stock, correct?”

“On the contrary! Name it and I'll tell you where and how much it is.” Sam winked.

“Liquid Mercury.” Rook responds naturally.

“Mercury?!” Sam was surprised but not shocked. “You know it's toxic right? And relatively expensive.”

“I am very aware of that, oui.” He was still smiling, but with that sly half-closed look of his. “It's for the science club. I had already informed Professor Crewel and he authorized me to purchase it.”

“He did... without a paper...” Sam whispered to himself, before talking to Rook again. “You are of age then?”

“Oui je suis.” He handed Sam his ID. “You would have enough for a simple experiment, non?”

“How many grams do you need?” Sam asked, handing back the ID and smiling like the helpful salesman he is.

On the way back to the classroom, you expressed your concerns and apprehension regarding Rook's experiment. You weren't a member of the science club, how could you help? And about the toxic mercury?

“Worry not, Trickster.” He smiled confidently. “The amount of mercury we will be using is safe, especially while wearing coats, gloves and glasses. The only ingredient I will ever intoxicate you with is love, mon cher.” He puts his hand on your waist and gently pulls you to kiss your cheek. “And as for why I want you to be with me when I do the experiment... he he... you'll find out when you see it.”

“Bon après-midi!” He greets, as soon as he enter the classroom. He didn't explain why you were with him, but no one asked either. The other club members asked each other, but it seemed like no one had much courage to ask Rook directly. Except one person.

“Hi Rook, (Y/N).” Trey greeted you. “You had never come to a club meeting before. Are you thinking about joining or did you just come to assist Rook?”

You say you came because Rook asked you, but now that he was talking about it, you could also see what the club was like and think about whether you would like to join.

“You will always be welcome!” Rook says. “Oh, but Chevalier des Roses you are very cruel to me.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“Now you've put the merveilleuse image of (Y/N) and I here, doing experiments together. How heartbreaking it will be now to have that fantasy destroyed. You truly underestimate the thorns in your words.”

Trey smiled like he was thinking that Rook was just being dramatic again. “Well, I apologize, but aren't you putting (Y/N) in a position where it will now be difficult to refuse the invitation?”

“Non. There is nothing more charming than the free will of one's heart. I will be happy with whatever my dear Trickster decides.” his usual smile became sly. “Are you perhaps trying to pass the blame for your words onto someone else?”

“Of course not. Don't distort my intentions.” Trey adjusts his glasses, still smiling politely. “I'll leave you to your experiment. I also have something I want to test.” He walked away.

He puts what you bought on a table and goes to get the rest of the materials that were already in the room. A petri dish, pipettes, a new nail and a small bottle with a transparent liquid.

When he went to get the second bottle, the glass was dark, so he had to read the label. He picked up one that made several heads turn and a collective sigh of concern was heard. “Potassium chlorate...” He read to himself, but with the silence in the classroom, the others could also hear him. “Ups... not chlorate, dichromate.” He put the bottle back in the cabinet and took out another like it with the label: Potassium dichromate. A sigh of relief was heard in the room and the students returned to focusing on their projects.

Rook returned to the table laughing. You ask him why the other members reacted that way to the first bottle.

“Potassium Chlorate.” he explains. “Is a strong oxidizing agent that has a wide variety of uses. It is or has been a component of explosives, fireworks, safety matches, and disinfectants. I think they were afraid I was going to make explosives.” he leans in and whispers in your ear. “Don't tell them that it is a possibility for another day.”

You begin the experiment. He place a drop of mercury in the petri dish. Then he pour transparent liquid over the drop to cover it. He explains to you that it is sulfuric acid. He then add a small amount of what is on the second bottle. They look like little red crystals, almost as small as dust. That was potassium dichromate. He waits some time before giving you the new nail.

He stands behind you and holds your hand that is holding the nail with his. “Now let's see if it works. Shall we?” He practically whispered that in your ear. He makes you slowly bring the tip of the nail closer to the drop of mercury. And before you touch it, the drop starts to move and... beat like a heart. The mercury drop will beat for about 20 seconds before stopping.

“Mercury Beating Heart.” He explains sweetly. “Is a popular chemistry demonstration based on an an electrochemical redox reaction that causes a blob of mercury to oscillate, resembling a beating heart. Simple, dangerous, and beautiful.”

He frees your hand and lets you continue the experiment on your own if you want. The tip of the nail never touches the mercury and the heart will always beat for a few seconds before you try again.

“The club wants to hold a small fair to demonstrate some experiments. I thought this would be a simple but interesting demo to show potential new members. So, you tell me, what do you think?”

You can tell him it's an excellent idea, but if you're concentrating on the mercury heart, making it beat gently, he won't need any verbal response.

He laughs. “Beauté! I could watch your fascinated look all day. However...” He brings his face closer to yours. You move the nail away from the mercury, and he places a finger under your chin, moving your head slightly. Your lips very close. “I would hunt to have that look on me instead.”

If you want to know more, here are the links to the experiments:

Trey -> Rainbow Roses

Rook -> Mercury Beating Heart

And if you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Can u do resident evil guys on your birthday?? Nsfw if possible

Thx bb 🫶🏽

Sure bb gotcha. I hope you like these 😉💖 btw reblogs are appreciated as they help this blog reach out to more people🥰

Warning: NSFW content below ⬇️

The cake was on the table with the candles long burned and with a bottle of wine right next to it, which hadn't been opened yet. In the back of the room, there were moans coming right from the slightly opened door.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, legs resting over Wesker's shoulders, as he was busy giving your birthday present. You only managed to remove his shirt before he got right into the action.

His tongue was going relentlessly over your clit, giving that little bud intense sensations as he ran up and down over it. The soft touch made your legs tremble with every lick, and it made you tighten the grip on the poor sheets.

"Enjoying yourself, dove?" glowing red eyes were looking at you for a brief second, waiting for a response, but seeing you wish to remain silent, another lazy, long lick followed.

"Yes, very much, yes..." you said after gasping.

You took a deep breath when you felt two of his thick fingers slowly entering your warm hole. They quickly found your spot, and he began massaging it as his tongue picked up the pace. I

It was bliss. Your whole mind was dazed as it was quickly overcome by pleasure. His tongue and his fingers worked in perfect rhythm to bring you joy.

A third finger joined, and you started to feel full already, but that sensation would soon be replaced by the approaching climax. The familiar pressure began to be noticed, and it grew and grew until....his lips, his cheeks, and his chin were covered in your warm juices.

Wesker let out a satisfied moan as his tongue cleaned his coated fingers.

"You are simply delicious. I could devour you all day long."

"I-I wouldn't mind," you said as you tried to catch your breath.

"I think it's time to move on to your next present tho" he said, pulling out his shaft from his pants, and it was just as you expected: red, swollen, and leaking. "Shall we?" he asked, smirking.

From the cake, there were two or three slices missing. The bottle of wine was half empty, and the glasses were stained from the liquid that had previously filled them. One had lipstick marks at the edges. Not far away from the table, your moans could be heard as Leon was fucking you from behind while on the couch.

From his movements, you knew he was eager; you knew he wanted to move faster and give you that sweet, sweet birthday orgasm that you wanted so badly, but he was holding back, going at a regular pace. With every move of his hips, not only did he tickle that spot inside you, but he was also going deep, making sure to hit your cervix with his tip.

"God, you're amazing," he said as he spread your cheeks. His grip on your flesh was tight.

"L-Leon..." you said, panting.

He knew how much you loved being fucked like this. Every thrust of his hips would make you cry out his name.

"What do you want, sugar? Tell me."

"Move faster..." you managed to say.

He loved how that cunt would contract around his meat.

He picked up the pace, and the sensation was too much to handle as you felt him going even deeper, even if you knew that wasn't possible. Tears rolled down your cheeks as he kept pumping himself inside you.

You felt it coming, but you never expected it to hit you with such strength. The orgasm was so intense that your whole body was starting to shake underneath Leon. You cried out his name one last time when you felt some thick, hot spurts of his cum begin to fill you up.

"Easy now, sugar..." he said as he gently rubbed your trembling back. "Come, lay down."

You managed to catch your breath and regain your composure while resting on his chest. His hand was caressing your back gently, his feather-like touch tickling your skin as he moved his fingers all over.

"That was amazing..." he said as he kissed your forehead.

"I know... best birthday gift ever."

"And it's not the only one."

You felt his hand go lower and lower until he reached your cunt. His cum was still oozing from the hole, smearing your thighs.

"You thought I'd leave you dirty like this?"

The ice cream cake was left untouched in the freezer. The candles were wrapped in the same way they were brought from the store. The wine was in the fridge, and the table was shaking underneath you.

Driven by his neediness, he had one arm wrapped tightly around your waist; the other was supporting himself on the table, and he repeatedly slammed himself inside you. His head was buried at the junction of your neck and jawline, his hot breath tickling your skin. Occasionally, he'd gently lick your skin, but that tongue was more focused on tickling your ear with words of admiration.

"Mi princesa, I missed you so much," he said, grunting as he gave you one hard thrust.

Your hands were wrapping around his neck, choosing to rely solely on him to support yourself.

"All I could think about was you. Your smile, your soft skin, how good I feel while I'm inside you..."

He resumed his adoration by giving your neck shy bites. He didn't want to leave marks.

"Luis..." you said, panting.

"What is it?" a gentle kiss on your neck.

"I think the tabble will break..."

"Let it; that won't stop me from finishing..."

His cock felt so good inside, so good that it kept rubbing that spot inside. Every friction would bring you closer and closer to heaven; every throb of his cock would send a shiver down your spine; and every droplet of precum would bring you joy. You tried pulling him closer, as if that were a possibility given how tight you were holding each other. Your senses were overwhelmed by his scent, by that spicy cologne that complements his natural one.

"Speaking of finishing..."

His moves became erratic, his breath irregular, and he raised his head so he could kiss you in those final moments. He needed all of you, your lips, your touch, your cunt, everything.

The passionate and sloppy kiss you shared was bliss; your hand was tugging his hair, and your teeth kept biting his bottom lip. You weren't so gentle like him, but he didn't mind, as this sudden burst of passion helped him finally reach his climax. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to overcome him entirely; the only sounds he could make were some weak whimpers. With a few more pumps, he painted your walls with his thick, warm cum.

The cake was on the table, untouched, still in the box. The bottle of wine is almost empty, and the room is filled with kissing and sucking sounds.

His tongue was twirling around your hard nipple, over and over again. You felt the vibrations of his moans on your skin and the bulge that was getting bigger as he rubbed himself between your legs. His other hand was preoccupied with the other breast, giving it a firm massage.

"Happy birthday, babe," he said in a low, sensual voice as he returned to suck your tit. The other one was resting in his big palm now as he began to pinch the nipple with his fingertips.

"J-Jack..." You loved what he was doing to you; you loved how his tongue would twist over and over again around your sensitive nipple, but your panties were so soaked...you needed him so badly, and you decided to show it by thrusting your hips against his erection.

"I'll get there, I promise, but let me taste you first." He rolled the nipple between his fingers now, giving you new sensations to cling to.

He grabbed the nipple with his teeth and pushed gently.

"Jack," you moaned his name, gasping in shock. It was too sudden.

He ignored you, tho and released it, moving to the other breast to give the same treatment. The one that he worked on was previously coated in his saliva, and it felt cold, but he quickly covered it with his hand and began to flick your nipple with his fingers.

"Oh God..." You pushed your chest forward when you felt his mouth once more, showing your tits to him. His tongue resumed the same corse, twisting around the nipple as well as going over it a few times.

"What you are doing to me..."

He hummed and kept igoring you, focusing on your chest and starting to tease you a bit by rolling his erection over your heated, soaked core.

"You bastard..." you grabbed both his hips to deem him to stay low so he can continue rubbing onto you.

You felt like a bitch in heat, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was to get him inside you.

He squeezed your breasts a little harder before standing up. A stupid smile appeared on your face when you saw him unzip.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (VI)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,100

CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, self harm, not beta read.

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry its been so long! forgot wehat direction i was going in with this story so going off the few notes i had left about this chapter! might be a few changes ive made from the last few chapters, but hopefully it all makes sense! but this story is gonna get dark and sad!

Aemma had been pacing back and forth for the last hour, nerves clear on her face as her mother and brothers were set to arrive in only a days time.  She hadn’t spoken to her in what had felt like forever, and she had no idea on what too expect. She thought that perhaps she might have done something but thinking back on the countless letters she had written, she could not think of a single thing she could have possibly said. Perhaps taking Aemond’s side at Driftmark, or perhaps refusing to leave his side after the fact. 

She had made her complaint to Aemond, the morning after they had reconnected, he had simply laughed, “oh Aemma, do you really think your mother cares about you? She happily sent you of to wed me the second it was suggested.” He said as he brushed her hair for her, having dismissed her ladies so they could break their fast. “if she cared about you she would have demanded I got to Dragonstone, not you here, she simply wished to be rid of you.”

Aemma looked down, she refused to believe it, her mother had always preached how she was her favourite child, then again, after Driftmark her mother did just send her away, she would have visited her more or asked her to visit if it was true. “Really?” she asked tears in her eyes.

“oh of course” he smirked, “but do not worry dear, soon enough you shall be my wife and she will no longer have to even act as if she cared for you, and you will not have to care for her either.”

She shook her head, and looked up at him, meeting his smirk in the mirror “do you think she loves me still?”

“no” he replied instantly.

A tear fell from her eye “do you love me?” she near begged.

Aemond’s smirk widened, his eyes twinkling, “of course” she turned her head, and he instantly gripped her chin, “and you love me, don’t you?”

“no” she replied. His grip tightened slightly, “I do not know what it is to love Aemond, but perhaps…once we get to know each other more.”

He frowned. “We have known each other our who lives”

“Yes, but these past years we have been distant, I know nothing of you”.

“And whose fault is that” he said stepping away, “was it not for that bastard I would still have my eye! And you would love me!”

She stood up, following him, “how does-“he stopped her, turning around quickly to face her.                     

“Because it does!” he almost whined, “you were mine! And then you were handed to me on a silver platter and yet all you have done is whine about your mother and your stupid brothers!” he took a breath, allowing her an opportunity to speak.

“I begged to stay with you Aemond, I defended you and –“

“And you begged them to stay also!” she looked at him, she had never told him of the conversation with her mother.

“How do you know that?” she asked bewildered. “and what does that have to do with anything?”

“everything!” after what they did to me, to YOU! And you wanted them to stay” he shook his head, “I went to find you, I needed you and you were begging your mother to stay? Do you think I could forgive you?”

“Aemond-“ she was crying now.

“these past years I have grow into the man I knew you wanted, not the silly little boy you grew up with, but the man you need, my mother has been nothing but a mother to you, and yet you still crave that whore and those bastards”

“I’m sorry Aemond. “she said, reaching for his hands, “your right, I am so sorry, I just wanted my muna, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She caressed his hand, “but I didn’t want too lose you or her and yet I lost you both!” she whined, “I needed you too!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She needed him. Aemond smiled, “goo. because I am all you will ever and have ever needed.” He said holding her to him, “your mother is here in formality over, and at the end of the week she will be nothing to you, I will be your everything, your husband, your protector, your Aemond.”

“And let me remind you sweet Aemma, that without me you would remain Lady strong, a princesses bastard. And yet you betrayed me, begged for our tormentors to stay and if that had happened do you think I would have been able to devote these past five years to becoming your protector, to become the man you desired?”

She shook her head.

“They were cruel to you, hated you. All because your mother favoured you, do you think they will have changed?”

She shook her head again, and started to think back, growing up all she had ever wanted was to marry Aemond, and have him be her protector and never have to see Jace and Luke again.

She had thought that after Driftmark she would never get that Aemond, he had changed the second that eye was taken from him. He became cold and cruel and there was even whispers he was mad.

“but-“she started to speak, a part of her felt like he had turned into them.

He had tormented her for years and now he seemed to be perfect for her. It didn’t make sense.

“But what?” he asked, suddenly moving closer to her.

“you have been cruel, ignoring me then you started to torment me, sending me the heads of Aemma’s roses, as if you were threatening me.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know what your talking about”

“yes you do!”

“no Aemma, your confused, I sent you Aemma’s roses, to show I was thinking of you , and I never cut there heads of” he laughed, “and I only ignored you as I felt so hurt by what you did”

“i- but you cut of-“ she shook her head, “I-I I’m so confused, Aemond I- perhaps I should ask Cassandra, she has a better memory than me –“

“no Aemma, your just misremembering, you’ve always had trouble with remembering things” he said, “and do you not trust me?” he said sounding sad.

she shook her head, “of course not- I, just I thought you hated me for whatever reason and now I must have thought your acts were of torment and not …love” she said unsure.

“it okay Aemma, I know you struggle and I know you have always had difficulties with things” he said softly, “I was hurt and scared you would hate me too, I should have been more upfront, it is all my fault” he said, pulling her into a hug, “I know you are sorry, and I am too”/

He wasn’t, he loved the look on her face when she opened the box of cut of Aemma’s rose heads, loved the way she was scared, but he also realised years of ignoring her had made him seem untrustworthy, and he feared he made a mistake, he had a new strategy to play. At first he wantec her to be scared and run to him for help, but it seems her ladies and beloved Cassandra had gotten in the way of that plan, and made him the villain.

He supposed he had to get them out of the way.

Since that conversation, Aemond had made sure she did not leave his side.

Saying how he missed her dearly, and realising how much he needed her and pushing her away had hurt him more than it hurt her.

She had felt so badly for him, and before he knew it they were back to their old habits, were she went he went, she would even ask him too choose all her clothes, even serve her dinner.

She forgot how simple life was with Aemond, how happy and easy he made her life.

And Aemond was loving it, he loved getting to control every detail about her, she would dress how he liked, believing it her choice to let him pick, she would follow him everywhere, meaning he no longer had to follow her.

The only problem was that her ladies maids were still in the way. They ere there when she woke, and dressed, giving question stares as he would enter her rooms, whispering in her ear about things Aemma would never reveal.

He wasn’t jealous just angry.

He had been hurt all those years ago and ignored her because he wanted to be better. Become the best possible Aemond, become her protector and a man who would never again loose his eyes to is silly little nephews, and someone who would never let them hurt Aemma again.

And it was blatantly obvious that his ignoring of her head made her annoyingly close to her little friends.

He had hidden letters from her mother the first year, then they came less and less, before stopping altogether. He would allow a few of Aemma’s letters to be sent, not before reading them himself. He wanted her too feel isolated, but that had failed, and now it would be too suspicious for Aemma to receive the letters her mother had sent over the years, especially as he had read them all and hated the love his sister had for her daughter, hated that no matter how hard he wanted to hide it, her mothers return would only pull them apart once more.

So he realised the game of isolation needed to change and to get ride of the Ladies he must earn their trust, so he wooed them, by sitting in at their gatherings and showing undivided devotion to Aemma, there was still the issue of Cassandra Baratheon. She despised him, and he here. She was brash and loud, and Aemma’s best friend. 

He wasn’t jealous, no, not at all. Not jealous of the way she effortless laughed at her jokes or talked to her without having the perplexed and wanted to please look in her eyes that’s she did with him.

He watched the bitterly as they chatted the day away. She seemed to light up around Cassandra, and he hated it.

“Are you nervous about you mother and brothers return?” Cassandra asked, sipping her tea.

“yes, especially my mother” she sighed, stirring her tea “I did receive a letter from my brothers this morning” she reviled, much to  Aemond’s surprise. He had ordered all letters addressed to Aemma be sent to him straight away, how this had escaped him – “I had waited in the ravenry for a reply for my letter, and one had just arrived when I got there.” She reviled, answering what Aemond was wondering.

“what did it say?” Cassandra and Aemond asked simultaneously.

“Luke and Jace were asking about how I am , and saying they were sorry if their actions in our youth  and wish for us to reconnect upon there return.” She replied.

“you will do no such thing” Aemond spoke, standing up.

“And why not?” Cassandra asked, clearly unhappy at Aemond.

“because of how they have always treated her!2

“oh please, they were children!” Cassandra spoke, now standing alongside Aemond, “ they have apologized and wish to know there sister, and from what Aemma has told me, I and my sisters have done far worse to each other than they did to her!”

Aemond scoffed, “please, they were bullies, they locked her in the black cells!”

“they- they what?” Cassandra asked, no looking towards Aemma.

“i- its true they did, but they have apologised incessantly since then.” Aemma said, trying to diffuse the situation, “they are my brothers, and they.. they said sorry”

“You still have nightmares Aemma” Aemond spoke, now moving back to his seat and taking her hands in his.

This perplexed Aemma she had never not once told Aemond of her dreams, especially of that night, he himself had always felt partly responsible for it, having taken so long to find her, and having left her alone that night. “what?” she asked, “I never told you about my dreams…”

Aemond flinched sightly, realising his mistake, and Cassandra herself took on an angry expression, “how do you know of those dreams Prince Aemond?” she asked, moving herself closer to Aemond and Aemma, as if to protect her.

“i- she is to be my wife, I only took a concern when the guards said she would often wake screaming.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“but that still-“ Aemma started, slowly removing her hands from Aemond.

“don’t concern yourself too much Aemma I simply stood guard to ensure you did not try to harm  yourself.”

Aemma flinched, Aemond cant know about that, no one does. Not even her maids. She had always kept her arms covered, he cant know.

Her eyes betrayed her, showing a scared expression, an expression both Aemond and Cassandra took to be scared about hurting herself.

“I – I” she stuttered, “I don’t know what you-“

“don’t worry Aemma, nothing bad happened, and your brothers wont get anywhere near you” Aemond spoke.

Aemma nodded, trying to mask her own fear of Aemond potentially knowing her secret to make it look like she feared her brothers.

Her parents were set to arrive on the morrow, and All Aemma could do was twist and turn. Dreams had been plaguing her. Ever since the black cells she has been getting premonitions, dreams of what was to come, dreams that have come true.

She supposed she was lucky, Helenas dreams caused her to speak in riddles, some even called her mad. When in truth Aemma was the one who was mad. She scratched and bleed as she dreamed, tearing at the skin on her arm. Her hands felt like they were soaked in blood, her nails turned red, as she scratched and teared. She dreamt of herself, she was married with children, but one was dead. She killed him. She must have, blood was on her hands, on her dress her face. Her other children cowered in the corner, flinching away from her.

“a son for a son!” she woke up gasping, the words ringing in her head.

Her bed sheets were stained in her blood, her arms scarred. The wounds from her last dream only just having healed.

She couldn’t help it, it was if her only escaped from her dreams was to harm herself. Perhaps it had been the three years of isolation she had felt so alone, where the dreams controlled her. She would send days and days tuck in the loop. Until one day her mother wrote to her of needing alliances and how her and Alicent had chosen her ladies. Her ladies had saved her, Cassandra specifically. She would wake her up, help her dress, and for once Aemma had a reason to escape her dreams. But then Aemond’s neglect and ignorance of her had turned cruel, calling her “my lady strong”, a name he had only just stopped calling her.

But something haunted her as she paced around her chambers, Aemond’s torment had put a stop to her dreams, the dreams were there was no dancing dragons, or no blood-soaked hands and gowns. Instead the dreams were of dragon snapping dragons neck, storm soaked nights and screams. And then since this week her nightmares have been full of crying, begging and blood. And now this.

It seemed no matter what her life would be full of tears and screams, and death.

“Aemma.” Cassandra said, walking into her chambers, alongside the rest of her ladies, Cerci Lannister, Cerelle Costayne, Margaret Fossway and Rosia Tyrell.

She had not slept since being awoken from her dreams, she had bathed and dressed, applied ointment to her scares, and had proceeded to pace her rooms nonstop.

She was worried, her mother would be here soon, and she had no ideas what she would be like.

She knew nothing of her, and she feared her mother may no longer love her. And well she was nervous about her wedding, and the wedding night. Aemond and Alicent had told her about it in the past week, and she was scared. And she just needed her Muna.

“how are you feeling?” Cersi asked.

“I am nervous” she admitted.

“of course, you will be wed on the morrow, you are bound to be nervous” Margaret added.

“well i-“

“but think, you will get to marry someone who loves you!” Rosia gushed.

“yes you are so lucky!” Cerelle complained, she had received news yesterday of her father engaging her to some man who had been married twice before and she had never met.

“oh Cerelle, he’s old hell probably die before you can wed.” Aemma said nonchalantly, and Cassandra laughed as she watched Aemma gasp at her own words. “sorry, just today the first time I will see my mother and brothers in years. I’m nervous”

Cassandra grabbed her hand, caressing home gently, “it’ll be okay, I’m sure.” She then looked to Cerelle “ and Aemma’s right, he’s what eight and seventy, he could croak at nay moment!” they all laughed, and for the first time that day Aemma’s mind was finally taken of what was to come.

She stood in the courtyard wating for their arrival, alongside her stood alone, Alicent having to have leave only moments ago to take care of something. She had done all her wedding planning with Alicent, she had comforted her when she cried over her mothers lack of care over her wedding, and visiting her despite her countless letters over the years. But Alicent seemed nervous, as if she was waiting for something or scared of something, and even more so when she had to leave.

After a few moments a carriage finally arrived in the courtyard, and her mother was the first to step out.

She wanted to run to her, to hug her and tell her how she had missed her. But her dream, it rang in her head.

“A son for a son” that all she could hear, and a voice in her head told her it was her mother’s fault, that her mother would force her to kill her son. She didn’t want to think it, but her mothers face, her blood soaked hands and a headless child was all she could see.

She made her way slowly walking down the steps the greet them.

“muña, lēkia” she greeted, a smile gracing her face. “welcome home”

next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

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to be added to Taglist

[cloudyskydreams]

Hi, I love the way you write and represent Sans with every detail, I was wondering if you could do a SFW AND NSFW headcanon of SansxReader. If you don't mind of course

Hi thanks so much for requesting, you asked and I shall deliver!! I'm just assuming they're general headcanons since it wasn't specific, I've been meaning to get around to some general headcanons because I feel they're a good way to work out some personality✨ I did masc and femme sans nsfw headcanons and left the reader ambiguous, As always hope you enjoy!!

Sfw:

•Expect alot of lazy cuddle times, they're his favorite he just loves being near you really, and his constant state is tired so being able to just take it easy with you is nice.

•On a completely opposite note you do motivate sans to do stuff he normally wouldn't. He'll get off the couch and out of bed to spend some time outside with you, his favorite date place is still grillbys but he'll try out new places with you sometimes.

•He sends you memes that make him think of you or he finds funny even if he's right next to you and can just show you. He'll send it and then watch you for your response, he'll make a joke about your phone going off if you don't check it immediately.

• The patrons at Grillbys get updated on you occasionally. Sans feels comfortable there and he knows most of the people so he lets his guard down and you're really special to him. So he ends up gushing about you and what you've done together ,nothing private of course, after a few drinks and his buddies are all really happy for him. They think you're good for him he seems a lot more stable since you came into his life.

•Sans will absolutely drag you out of bed to stargaze, he gets excited like a kid on Christmas his eyelights big and shining as he drags you outside with his telescope. He always plans little dates when there's going to be a space event like a super moon or meteor shower. He loves being able to indulge in his interest with you and hopes you have as great a time as he does.

•He loves making you actually laugh with his jokes and it makes him feel good and he loves hearing your laugh. It makes him feel proud of himself anytime he gets even a smile out of you.

•Sans just loves being close to you he'll follow you around the house, if you're doing dishes he has his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your back. On the couch? His head is in your lap or he's just sprawled out over you. In the bathroom? If you're comfortable with it he's sitting in there with you on his phone looking at memes. Just enjoys being in your presence in general.

NSFW:

•One of Sans favorite things is giving oral, he gets to be between your thighs and can go at whatever pace he wants. He's an absolute tease and is definetly into edging while doing this as he wants to spend as much time in between your thighs as possible.

•Sans is a switch preference towards bottom. Not saying sub because he's still a teasing prick when he's underneath you but it's not hard to get him to sub. He looks pretty cute face flushed cornflower blue, moaning underneath you as you ride his cock/eat him out while his hands are tied to the bedsheet.

•Cockwarming is a big thing with him too, he likes to just lay there cuddled together while he's inside you watching a movie or on your phones. He likes to see how long you can last before you start moving as he's pretty patient. He might grind into your occasionally if he's in a teasing mood.

•On the opposite note if you want him to be on top he's more than happy to help. He enjoys snail position alot because he's close to your calves and can bite on them, or anything that really gets him close to your legs as he is a leg man.

•Feel like his ecto-cock is about 5.7 inches not the biggest but it's girthy and has some vein to it, his ectobody itself is chubby. In femme form he's got d cup tits and his chub is still there but he has more of a hourglass figure than before, and a cute blue innie pussy. (There's innies and outies y'all you're welcome for the info)

•His go to is the masc form but if you want femme he'll give you femme. Squeezing his plush thighs as you eat him out. A blush across his face as he watches you eyes lidded praising you for doing such a good job slipping a joke in there somewhere while he gently presses your face closer with a hand on the back of your head.

[notmorbid]

lost in the garden.

dialogue prompts from lost in the garden by adam s. leslie.

i'm not going to grow up.

each of us survived to fight another day.

i never reveal my sources. i'm the picture of discretion.

i don't want to play anymore.

people disappear all the time.

are you sure? i need you to be absolutely sure.

i never really interact with fans.

i miss the anticipation and the adrenaline spikes. the feeling of being alive.

it's dangerous. too dangerous for you.

i'm the zany one. i'll do anything.

shall i compare thee to a summer's day? you're a bit sticky and only tolerable in small doses.

i didn't think you could pick me out of a lineup.

you fucking nailed it.

you know my name?

how would you like the honor of doing me a favor?

it's serious spy shit.

you are my oldest friend, but also my worst friend. but also my best friend.

are you materializing out of thin air now?

well, this is just the icing on the fucking cake, isn't it?

are we gonna do this, or what?

you seem to live your life entirely below the surface.

i sometimes wonder if you might be evil.

you're personable, i'll give you that. 'nice' is a stretch.

i'm not spontaneous. i'm not impulsive.

that's the rule of daring: each dare has to be bigger than the last.

other people's business is the whole reason you exist.

did i dream you?

i think i love you.

if there's one thing i've always admired about you, it's your poker face.

i can't begin to tell you how much i hate you.

i might have to dance with you again.

go easy, nightmare. go easy.

i didn't know it was possible to be so happy.

i feel like you were always there.

you're looking better than i thought you would.

if you could have any flavor of ice cream at all, which would it be?

is this all just hijinks to you?

do you ever fucking stop talking?

i was just a child. i didn't mean it.

i know guys like you. i'm friends with guys like you.

aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?

i'm worried i'll forget what ____ looks like.

you're always so serious. you don't have to be.

it's not as bad as you think it is, whatever's bothering you.

i'm as flawed as anyone else.

we're being followed.

you don't get more normal than me.

i'm here. i came back.

i'm glad we got lost together.

head injuries always bleed a lot. it's not as bad as it seems.

is that ghost riding a bicycle?

you don't have friends. you have contacts.

you make it very hard for me to respect you.

what's your middle name?

what's your earliest memory?

how could i forget something like that?

love means never giving up on someone.

i have a great ass. everybody says so.

you have to stop being young sometime, don't you?

i know a thing or two about depravity.

speak to me. tell me things. tell me anything.

i'm not a serial killer. why would you say i'm a serial killer?

i feel like i'm being sucked empty.

you can't ruin this for me. i won't let you.

people know, if you know the right people to ask.

it's dangerous to pretend for too long.

geography isn't what it used to be.

it's only trespassing if we get caught.

if we were watson and holmes, who would be who?

you have the self control of a toddler undergoing an out-of-body experience.

i'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers.

no one's ever thrown a party for me.

are you really dead if you don't realize you're dead?

get as far away from here as you can. this isn't your thought.

you can't save ___. you'll only get hurt.

you don't know who you're messing with.

i've made a poor job of being an adult, and a poor job at remaining a child.

it's too late to save my soul.

i always liked you best. you understand that, right? you were my favorite.

you really expected me just to give up on you?

we're not getting out of here. no one ever does.

i thought i loved you. i really thought i loved you.

[zablife]

Bye Bye Blackbird

Tommy Shelby x female reader

Summary: Tommy's love interest from before the war leaves for the excitement of the city, but a chance encounter years later finds her disillusioned with all that sparkles. Can he convince her to come home?

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @runnning-outof-time. 

Warnings: language, mention of PTSD, drinking, mention of prostitution, angst

It started before the war, you would sing in Harry’s pub on Saturdays. Back then a young man with dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen would come to listen. You knew he was there just for you because Harry said he didn’t come any other day of the week like the other regulars. He never drank much either. His two brothers would accompany him sometimes, flanking him in a booth. Each of his brothers would raise a pint, sloshing it precariously, as they jostled him back and forth with the force of their merriment. They shouted and sang along to the drinking songs, but your admirer liked the quiet, heartfelt ballads best. You wondered if he even heard them over the din of the crowd, but his lovestruck gaze told you he wasn’t just there for the songs. 

One evening in the autumn of 1913 he waited for you, twisting his cap in his hands as you pulled your coat over your shoulders. You jumped when you turned to find him waiting for you, but the gentle look in his eyes calmed you instantly. He introduced himself asking “What’s your name or shall I go on referring to you as Blackbird?” 

“Blackbird?” you asked inquisitively, a warmth creeping into your face and ears.

“Yes because they sing into the night like you do,” he explained, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t know what else to call you.”

“Oh, I see…erm, you can call me Y/n now if you like. My name is Y/n,” you stumbled over your words, wondering how often Tommy had spoken of you to others.

That night he offered to walk you home, careful to watch for any discomfort in your posture. When you displayed a radiant smile, he felt his heart swell and that started a nightly ritual that quickly escalated to seeing one another as often as possible.

There wasn’t much romance to be found in a town as rough and cold as Brimingham, but Tommy transformed it just for you with late night strolls by the canal and quiet chats in his Uncle Charlie’s scrap metal yard. You found you could talk to Tommy about anything because he understood what it was to dream about having more in the midst of the smoke and dirt that surrounded you. 

Although you didn’t offer much about yourself at first, Tommy revealed his gentle nature in the way he was with the horses. It was one of the first things he shared with you, confiding how he hoped to have his own stables one day. He demonstrated how to pet the large beasts in slow, deliberate strokes. With his hand over yours, you felt comforted as well.

Somehow over time, there in the dark stillness of the night, it was easier to confess how much you wanted from life. You dreamed of brightly lit stages and audiences of bejeweled patrons clapping just for you. Tommy was the only person who didn’t laugh at you. He would listen as you spoke, eyes shining in the dim light as though it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard. “Will you come see me when I’m famous?” you giggled.

“Every night,” he replied earnestly, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear, leaning in for a tender kiss.

A year later he wasn’t on his way to an opera house or even a dance hall. You walked him to the train station for a tearful goodbye neither of you were fully prepared to say.——————————————————-

In the months that followed, you waited for Tommy’s letter saying he was coming home. No one expected the war to last and Tommy had promised to return to you swiftly. Keeping hope alive, you washed your hair on Fridays and put on his favorite dress, swaying and singing along to the tune of a gramophone. Truthfully, the ritual of it was the only thing tethering you to sanity. You longed for the day you’d receive a letter asking you to make the bed and light a fire to welcome him home. You were hopeful in the early days. 

As the years wore on, those ideas faded with the dreams of your youth and you became more practical. With the men away at war, you took up a job at the BSA and forgot about singing. No one wanted to hear your songs, and even if they had, you struggled to remember the words. You’d watched countless women, unskilled at their work, fall victim to injury and you were disillusioned by a life locked away in a factory. 

When a coworker named Millie began concocting a plan to run away to London to escape the pressures of daily life, you began to lend a sympathetic ear. Soon temptation descended and you were unable to deny you wanted a way out as well. However, you often reminded yourself that your circumstances weren’t the same as hers. Her brother had returned with a bad case of shell shock, flying into fits of rage that left her and her mother scared for their lives. You couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave, but you had Tommy to think of. What if he came home to no one waiting for him? Could you abandon him that way?

Then Tommy’s letters stopped arriving in the mail and you failed at all attempts to push dark thoughts from your mind. No matter what you did, they crept in at night like a thief, stealing the happy memories you’d carefully stored away. When you were alone and scared, trembling from fear that Tommy may never return, the devil whispered in your ear that you were all alone. Convinced there was nothing left for you at home, you made a new life in London and never looked back.

You and Millie let a flat together and tried to be family for one another. Without leaving a forwarding address, you had no other choice. Millie found work in a bakery and you jumped at the chance to perform at the Eden Club. Things looked bright for a brief shining moment before your tomorrows began to fade away once more.

———————————

"Blackbird?” a low, rough voice called from behind your left shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your arm. It had been so long since anyone called you that. You knew it could only be one man. A lump formed in your throat involuntarily and you briefly considered walking away, but you knew he’d only follow you. Turning to face him, you readied a mask for the occasion, hoping the cracks didn’t show.

“Hello handsome,” you purred, treating him like any other customer.

Tommy halted as he observed you, “Can we talk?” he asked hesitantly. It had been far too long and he had so much he wanted to know. You’d left Birmingham abruptly and no one had been able to find you, though plenty of people still asked about the girl with the beautiful voice.

“That depends,” you said, batting your lashes at him. “I’m in high demand this time of night so you’ll have to pay for the privilege.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, unfamiliar with this new persona. It was so far removed from the fresh faced girl he’d known from the Garrison. The finger waves in your hair and the short dress weren’t the only differences though, your whole attitude had changed. You carried yourself with an air of haughty entitlement.

“Why don’t you start by buying me a drink,” you suggested, raising your empty champagne glass to his eye level.

“The girl I used to know drank cordial and water,” he said, removing his hat, the light reflecting off the sharp edged metal at his fingertips.

“Well, people grow up,” you explained with a sharp inhale and a tight smile. “The boy I knew didn’t have razor blades sewn into his cap,” you retorted, eyeing him suspiciously. 

You had heard all about Tommy’s business back in Birmingham. He was making a name for himself as a dangerous gangster whom many feared. While it hurt to hear how much the war had changed him, the deepest cut was knowing he arrived home safely and never came looking for you, but you couldn’t show that now.

Tommy clenched his jaw as he shoved his cap into his pocket, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not the same, Y/n,” he protested, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, wondering how he could be so naive to think people didn’t change with time and circumstance. If Sabini’s men were to be believed, he was no different than you when it came to making deals.

“Do you want to know a secret?” you asked leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, light breath fanning over his ear as your fingertips brushed along his shoulder. “Everyone’s a whore, Tommy. We just sell different parts of ourselves.” Pulling back to see if it had the desired effect, you gave him a knowing smile. Tommy’s handsome face held a note of pain briefly as he realized he didn’t recognize the hardened woman before him. 

“When I returned home from France, I did what I had to do for my family. If you had waited for me, I would have helped you too. I can still help you,” he asserted.

“You’re on the wrong side of pity, Tommy,” you scoffed. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I did that quite well for five years,” you explained, but the words took on a pathetic, hollow tone, even to your ears. 

You might have changed the scenery over time, but your days were as difficult and tedious as they had been at the factory. Life as a chorus girl took you nowhere so you’d had to find other means to pay the rent. Providing company to wealthy gentlemen might have kept a roof over your head, but it didn’t fill the hole in your heart. You shook your head, knowing it was too late for regrets and feeling too stubborn to admit your plight to Tommy.

As usual though, Tommy saw through you. “You expect me to believe this is the life you chose, eh?” You looked away momentarily, gritting your teeth when confronted by the dirty secret lying beneath your glittering facade.

“If you feel you’ve humiliated me enough for one evening, I’ll go,” you said, attempting to brush past Tommy, but he grabbed your arm above the elbow, pulling you back to face him. The beads of your dress clashed against your body, protesting the sudden stop and your face held a momentary hint of shock.

“You had a perfectly good life in Birmingham. Come home,” he pleaded, brows knit in a serious expression.

“I’m not stupid enough to think anyone back home is waiting for my return. Who would love me now?” you asked, bitterness seeping from your tongue. 

“I would,” Tommy said, blue eyes holding you in a determined stare. “Do you believe me?” He held his breath as he awaited an answer.

“A thousand sunrises ago…I might have,” you said sorrowfully, Meeting his gaze you confessed, “I’m not sure I have a place for you, in here, anymore Tommy,” you said, gesturing toward your heart. “I’ve had to shut everyone out for so long to survive and I’m not sure I have the courage to change,” you apologized as tears welled in your eyes. 

You’d already held them back as long as you could and now they threatened to spring forth and reveal your weakness. Feeling as though you might suffocate, you pulled away from him and pushed through the crowd to find a way out. You could hear Tommy shouting at people, shoving them out of his way in his haste to follow you. “Don’t look back,” you mumbled angrily to yourself, swiping at the rivulets, trickling down your cheeks, ruining your make up. 

Once outside, you walked brusquely in the cold night air, heels clicking against the pavement until your lungs burned. You didn’t want to think about what Tommy was offering or how badly you wanted him back in your life. You heard the heavy door of the club slam shut, followed by footsteps pounding incessantly behind you. “Y/n, stop! Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t remember what we used to be?”

You stopped suddenly, dropping your head in your hands. You did remember, every night spent singing to him at the Garrison and every sunrise over the canal. As you stood, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs, Tommy approached carefully and placed his coat around you for warmth.

“Cause I never forgot. I tried to find you, but Sabini’s men got to my messenger first,” Tommy said, hanging his head at the memory of the boy who had been killed crossing into enemy territory to find you.

“What?” you said, spinning around to face him. “You looked for me?” Tommy nodded in affirmation. “You forgave me for leaving?” you asked, wiping the tears as they fell.

“Nothing to forgive,” Tommy said with a quick shake of his head. You’d done nothing to deserve your circumstances. He only wanted you home where you could be together. 

He offered you his handkerchief as you let out a sniffle. “Tommy, what if we don’t work out?” you asked in a small, frightened voice.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, reaching a hand out toward you, “Come back to me, Blackbird. I don't want to say goodbye again.”

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

Tag list:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

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@rangerelik

@kmhappybunny240

@mgcldydrms

[iridescentdove]

Fyodor, Nikolai & Sigma w/ Elysia! Reader

Elysia is the Herrscher of Human Ego in Honkai Impact. She is a girl as beautiful as dancing petals, and holds the power which is comparable to a God itself.

Her personality is cheerful and sweet-loving, Elysia cares about her friends and everyone else dearly. She's elegant, unique, and is a person who enjoys everything.

Soukoku, Atsushi & Ranpo Ver. ♡ Port Mafia Ver.

FYODOR DOSTOVESKY:

Let's get one thing out the pocket first, i hate this rat mf to hell and beyond so let's start shall we? <3

GODDAMN THIS GIF MAKES ME PUNCH PUNCH

He's full of intrigue. Fyodor hasn't seen you yet in full action, and begins to question and anticipate the day he finally meets you face-to-face.

As a bitch man with a God complex, this dude would take it slightly lightly.

I mean, how much better could you be?

Could you really stand against him for long?

And to a much unexpected surprise, his imagination was far off from what he had thought.

How pretty you are. As you always described yourself 'a girl as beautiful as dancing petals', his pride made him not want to admit such...but he did agree later on.

What made him feel a change of emotion was how sweet and carefree you were. You're beautiful, and kind.

Maybe he began to think more differently.

He'd definitely tried to kill you with his ability the first time you met UGH THIS LITTLEPIECEOF–

You were obviously skeptical and sensed something from him, being as he was so keen on shaking your hand as you remained with a soft smile.

Fyodor anticipated you to die to the effects. To witness all the power he possibly had.

But fortunate to unfortunate, your demise never came.

That was when he began to observe you more. And to his own surprise, he fell in love. In no way did he expect to do so, and more importantly to a God. Impossible.

Fyodor witnessed your full power sooner or later, and your God Form that sent everyone levitating ABOVE FR

Every inch of you from top to bottom was perfect.

And so the obsession begins. He's definitely created his own cult or had worshipped you to no end. Fyodor won't stop praying no matter the time of day.

Waking up and going to sleep, before and after he eats, even when the slightest misfortune comes up.

He'll speak to you like you're not just a God. You're his God.

Fyodor slowly comes aware and accepts that you're like, probably over a thousands times stronger. But then again it doesn't matter anymore.

He just wants you to stay still, and be pretty.

Just seal it with a kiss <3

Fuckingholdmebackbeforeikillthisfucker,revivehim,andthenkillhimagainbecauseDAMNiwannastranglehim

NIKOLAI GOGOL:

Me to Fyodor: Ew fuck off

Me to literally Nikolai, Sigma & everyone else: Aww i love you guys sm and i'll do everything in my ability to make you happy and feel loved so have a cookie and my–

So, first of all, you met him while feeding the birds. It was a fun little hobby you were doing nowadays.

Plus, you loved animals! So why not?

Nikolai found himself staring at you the longer you kept at it, and took in your features that were so unique. He's never seen anyone like you around.

Dude tried to walk up to you and ask if you were real

We'd all know he ain't really sane so let's just say that the first encounter was a little strange. But still, you didn't back off and kept talking to him so...nicely?

Why? He found this curious, and had asked you a few things while talking. But then again, it didn't last.

Took you to Fyodor right after lmao

You'd told him barely a thing about your "ability", but he had that feeling it was nothing so normal. Plus why tf are you wearing such a revealing outfit...in summer.

Don't judge that's just Elysia's Pink Elf outfit bae

Thought Fyodor found you useful, although hesitated a bit for the first time ever. He, deep down, didn't want to involve you. And when Fyodor tried to use his ability on you..

It didn't work. This caused him and Sigma to really question your own existence knowing how it was impossible.

Then the big reveal. Nikolai grew fond of you. He, as seeing you were such a beautiful, powerful omnipotent God - never did he leave your side and continued worshipping you.

Oh, an your God Form? He lives for it, really. Finds you even more beautiful than you already are.

Nikolai loves touching your soft hair...and maybe something else that's soft- ahem

Someone insulted you? They went missing the next day! You're hungry? Suddenly there's food at your doorstep. You're buying new clothes? He's already there beside you.

Holding you against his chest, Nikolai's cold heart began seeking for the warmth known as you.

And no matter what, he's never gonna leave you <3

"Quiz time! Who is my one and only beloved?...Correct! Ahaha. I love you, (Y/N)."

SIGMA:

He's normally stoic around you, and acts just as how he does with everyone else. But oh, he's definitely not glancing at you every few minutes, admiring your beauty, looki–

Let's just say he's a bit more silent. He's definitely affected by you somewhat, and honestly who wouldn't?

You knew he owned a casino, so you began visiting.

Sigma had seen you walking up to customers and just chatting, being nice. Greeting them, and even offering a present you got on the way.

You were honest, and something so rare - so pure. It was so impossible to be innocent in this world.

But you proved him wrong in every way. No bad intention.

Sigma fell for you the moment it clicked. You're so pretty, so loveable, so sweet. And he didn't want to admit it but you're the only one brightening his day.

He looks forward to your visits at the casino, and even gets you a drink that's specifically for you - only for you.

It's a pretty, sparkly pink lemonade drink with a purple gradients - and sweet whipped cream. Topped off with (f/c) sprinkles and a small slice of lemon on the side.

He had named it after you. And you've never seen something so beautiful - you didn't even want to drink it.

During a mishap, you and Sigma had run into trouble. It was then occuring to you that he was hurt very badly.

You wanted nothing but to help him. Sigma had felt it, the full, extreme omnipotent power - only possible to be acquired as that of a true God.

Your God Form overwhelmed him to some extent, but he didn't care later on. You were breathtaking.

Since you loved humanity so dearly, he silently wished that you loved him as well.

Maybe his love even rivals your own.

A girl, more beautiful than dancing petals.

Sigma doesn't show it much, but he's awestruck. And with how deeply in love he is with you anyways, don't be surprised if you find yourself with a ring on your finger.

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 19: A Plan

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.6k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, your Sukuna X Reader, Megumi X reader

Masterlist | Next

Manga spoilers: chapters 145/146

You blink. Sukuna blinks. Everyone blinks.

Was this alien-like being Tengen?

Sukuna wasn't surprised Tengen didn't acknowledge him. It was a given considering he's got no cursed energy.

But he wasn't the only one who wasn't acknowledged. 

" Don't I get a hello, Tengen?"

Her face tells you Yuki's not entirely pleased about him.

Had something happened between them before?

" This isn't the first time we've met, Tsukumo Yuki."

" Why did you close off the tombs of the star corridor?"

She was not afraid to ask questions.

She had more guts than you expected.

" I was afraid you might be in alignment with Kenjaku. After all, I cannot see into the human heart."

Kenjaku?

" Kenjaku?"

You're not the only one who's wondering who he's talking about.

" The sorcerer who was once Noritoshi Kamo, and is now inhabiting the body of Suguru Geto."

" That name suggests compassion and salvation. Give me a break."

" Master Tengen, why do you look like that?" 

You blink at Yuuji's bold question.

The being that is Tengen smiles.

" I may be immortal, but I'm not immune to aging. After 500 years, you'd look like this too."

Yuuji's mouth forms an 'o'.

" For real?" 

Megumi seemingly has had enough.

" Excuse me but.." 

And so does Yuta.

" ...We came to ask about Kenjaku's objectives and how to open the prison realm. Will you tell us what you know?"

" I wish I could simply say yes, but there is one condition."

 " Okkotsu Yuta, Tsukumo Yuki, Death Womb Painting, and L/N Y/N, two of you must remain here to serve as my guards."

You blink. Again.

You? Why? And whose last name was that? What was your actual play in this universe? Did you have a current life here? Or a past life?

Things are so confusing now that Tengen's talking to you.

Meanwhile Sukuna's brows furrow in annoyance. Ain't no way he's allowing this alien like thing to keep you here.

He's not aware, and neither are you, but Megumi thinks the same as he glances at you, shifting the slightest bit closer to you than he already is.

You're not from here, and there's no way in hell that he's allowing you to die in his world.

" Y/N ain't staying with you alien. Keep dreaming." 

Politeness and formalities have never been Sukuna's thing. And that was evident in the way he spoke.

Megumi watches with a cool expression. He doesn't like Sukuna, but at least he can agree with him on keeping you safe.

" Y/N won't stay with you. She's not from our universe. We can't really risk her dying.- But why guards? Aren't you immortal? "

Yuta agrees.

" Are you worried about the seal?"

" No fair! You haven't even told us why or for how long we'd have to do it!"

The room has turned a bit chaotic now that Maki and Yuki are speaking too, with Maki remaining more serious.

Tengen doesn't bother to acknowledge anyone. Not even glancing at Sukuna's blatant disrespect.

" So then, shall I speak of Kenjaku? His objective is to force the evolution of all human beings throughout the land of Japan. "

Megumi blinks, mildly growing impatient.

" We heard that. But what exactly does he intend? Why didn't Kenjaku use your barrier that time, and turn everyone into a sorcerer that time via Idle Transfiguration? "

Tengen sighs.

" He lack the cursed energy to do that. Cursed energy that has been refined through uzumaki cannot return to the sorcerer. Triggering an evolution in each individual with cursed energy is incredibly inefficient. The method Kenjaku has chosen is the merger of human kind and me."

Once again, everyone's eyes widen.

Yuuji and Megumi are the first to speak.

" Isn't that impossible for anyone but a plasma vessel?"

" Is that even possible?"

" Yes. The way I was before. But now that I have evolved for the past 11 years, it wouldn't be impossible. "

You raise a brow.

" But aren't you one person? How could you merge with multiple. "

Sukuna huffs in disinterest. He came to get you, and now he's getting wrapped up in this shit.

You two should be looking on how to get home. Not meddle in this shit. He'll just katana Gojo out of there if it really bothers you that much.

Tengen's alien eyes fix onto you.

" The way I was before, yes, but now that I have evolved for over 11 years. It wouldn't be impossible for me to merge with someone other than a star plasma vessel. I am not what you see before you at this moment. My soul exists all around us. As I said, myself is now the world...."

Tengen carries on explaining, and you grow more confused with the second. You're not even going to bother to try and understand.

You glance at Megumi, who is stood closely beside you, yet he seems to be understanding the conversation without issue, following Tengen's every word.

You glance at Sukuna next, only to see he's barely paying attention to it, his brows furrowed in that familiar annoyed frown.

However, eventually, you do manage to get the most important bit together: Tengen's evolved form causes him to be more curse than human, and that makes him a target for curse manipulation.

Your eyes widen, everyone's does. (Except for Sukuna, the little shit doesn't give a damn whether Tengen dies or lives.)

This was the reason Tengen wanted guards. Kenjaku was currently inhabiting Suguru Geto after all. 

Tengen doesn't stop explaining after that. He continues on, talking about destinies. Everything had been in place. The Star Plasma Vessel, the Six Eyes user, Tengen, but then appeared someone with a heavenly restriction. 

You glance at Sukuna at the news, who somehow seems even more annoyed. 

He means Toji Zen'In of course. The only other person you know who had a heavenly restriction.

Tengen doesn't stop there, continuing on about how Toji destroyed their destinies and a boy with curse manipulation came along.

Now finally done, Megumi speaks.

" So why is the Culling Game happening?"

[ Here's your dear author speaking, apologies for breaking the fourth wall- I sincerely do not understand Tengen's yapping. 

Put simply: "To avoid any interruption in the merging of Tengen and Kenjaku."]

Finally, Sukuna has had enough.

" Okay. Great. Kenjaku wants you dead, sucks to be you. More importantly,  how do we free Satoru Gojo?"

Everyone is speechless as Sukuna steps closer from where he had been standing off to the side.

Sukuna's annoyed eyes sharpen into a glare, daring everyone to question him.

Even Yuta steps back.

For a guy with no cursed energy, he was damn intimidating.

" F-First, decide who stays." 

Tengen certainly has nerve to not directly answer Sukuna.

In return, Sukuna glares, stepping towards him. However, you're quick to step to his side, pressing a hand to his shoulder.

" Knock it off." 

Sukuna sighs as he glances at your much less intimidating glare. However, he does listen.

" I'll stay." 

Yuki and Choso are both quick to answer.

You glance at both of them, watching their reaction with surprise.

" Yuuji, you absolutely need Okkotsu or this woman's (Yuki) cooperation. Especially if Kenjaku comes here. Ending his life means salvation for my little brothers."

Yuki smiles at Choso's words.

" And I'm not done talking to Tengen. Is that all right, Okkotsu?"

" Yeah, I don't want to leave the others."

" Thank you. Now this-"

Tengen creates a small black hole, pulling out what appears to be a box.

" -Is necessary for freeing Gojo Satoru. It is the 'back' of the Prison Realm."

Megumi raises an incredulous brow.

" Back?"

Yuki raises a brow too.

" I've never heard of that."

Yuuji blinks.

" You mean like a back gate?"

Tengen nods (or does he? You're not sure.)

" Yes it is."

" Gojo Satoru is also sealed inside this rear gate. The authority to open it lies with Kenjaku. Breaking it open requires either the Inverted Spear of Heaven that nullifies cursed technique, or the Black Rope which cancels cursed technique effects."

Your brows shoot up, immediately drawing towards your best friend.

While Megumi and Yuuji both whine, you press a hand to Sukuna's arm in hope.

" You don't happen to have it with you? Do you? You always carry it around with missions." 

Sukuna blinks, brows furrowing in annoyance.

" Well get a load of this shit-"

-

[ Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe, Tokyo Jujutsu Tech ]

" Is that?" 

" Yes."

Gojo Satoru tugs his blindfold off, as if needing to see it with his own eyes.

" Huh. He really dropped it. Is he dead?"

Gojo glances back at Megumi.

He leaves for one night, on a business trip, and apparently his students take that as a que to go do dumb stuff by themselves.

Megumi shakes his head, his brows furrowed in concern.

" No. I don't think so. He fell in this like... loop? It was really odd looking. Sensei, I don't think we can kill that curse. I think that wherever it put Sukuna, Y/N might be there too. Perhaps it works like the Prison Realm?" 

The corners of Gojo's mouth twitch up in a smile.

" Ah, you know what that is? "

Megumi nods, still focused.

" Well then,- "

Gojo gets up, putting his blindfold back on. As he passes by Megumi, he pats his fluffy back hair, the dame way he did many years ago.

"-Don't worry Megumi, sensei will take care of it."

Gojo steps away again  before turning back around. 

" Oh, and hide that away. We can't have people know that Sukuna is gone, and that the Inverted Spear of Heaven is still here. It's bound to bring trouble."

Megumi nods, glancing down at the weapon on the table with frustration. 

Where are his two most annoying classmates?

-

Yuki sighs, turning to Tengen.

" Is there another way?" 

" Yes. Among the players in the Culling Games, is a sorcerer from a thousand years ago who calls herself Angel. Her cursed technique can extinguish any cursed technique."

Megumi and Yuta's eyes widen.

" She can extinguish.."

" ...cursed techniques?"

" Yes. The angel's cursed technique can open the back of the Prison Realm. "

" Do you know where she is now?"

" The colony in the east side of Tokyo. The game barriers reject me, so I don't have anymore in formation."

However, that doesn't stop him from explaining even more stuff. Eventually, it comes down to this: There are 10 colonies in Japan. The games are to distract sorcerers and give Kenjaku an opening, so he can perform his plan on Tengen. The ritual for that might take around two months.

Which brings everything back to the current issue.

According to rule one ' After awakening a cursed technique, players must declare their participation in the colony of their choice within 19 days.'

" Right now, It's november 9."

Maki points out.

" The player sorcerers awakened around midnight at october 31."

Yuta reminds.

" So Tsumiki has roughly 10 days and 15 hours to declare participation.- Master Tengen, you said that refusing to participate results in death."

Megumi is evidently stressed out.

Rule two 'Any player who breaks the previous rule shall be subjected to cursed technique removal.'

" That is correct. "

Maki furrows her brows.

" Shoko was correct, sorcerers like me who don't have a cursed technique aren't at risk." 

" So, what about civilians who are already inside the barrier?"

Yuuji wonders rightfully.

Rule three 'nonplayers who enter the colony will become players at the moment of entry and shall be considered to have declared participation in the Culling Game.'

" They will at least be given one chance to exit."

Yuki supplies.

" How generous."

Sukuna's sarcastic voice drawls.

He can see how involved you are. How hard you're trying to understand the Culling Game. 

Which means you're going to get yourself involved. Which means he'll get himself involved as well.

More rules are explained, and honestly, it's so much your brain gives up.

Eventually, the worst comes to light.

Rule four, 'Players score points by ending the lives of other players.' And rule eight 'if a players score remains the same for 19 days, that player will be subjected to cursed technique removal.'

You swallow.

Yuuji looks at the ground, not liking this at all.

" So I'll have to kill people... again."

Megumi shakes his head.

" No. I have a few ideas."

Maki sighs.

" Well, that's the info we've got. Now we each have a role to play. Yuki and Choso will remain here to protect master Tengen. I will return to the Zen'In clan and collect cursed tools. Since Satoru was sealed, the Kamo and Zen'In clans cleared out the Jujutsu Tech's cursed warehouse. But since Megumi is now in charge-"

Sukuna, Yuuji and you look at him with wide eyes.

Of course, you know he's technically the rightful heir to the clanleader role, but has he actually taken on the role in this universe?

Megumi glances at all three of you.

" I'll explain later."

" -Afterward, I will find Panda and help address the game. And you, Yuta?"

" I'm going to enter a colony right away and take part in the game. Before the others participate, I want to gather information. I'll avoid nearby colonies so we don't end up accidentally killing each other. Barriers may block cellphone reception, so we might be out of contact for a while."

At once, his eyes widen as his connect to Yuuji's.

Ah, their tacky promise of Yuta killing Yuuji.

Megumi's brows furrow.

" Don't even think about it. I'll be fine." 

Megumi hold up a fist in a way to... reassure him..? Threaten him..? You're not sure.

" Yuuji. I'll use Water Manipulation on you if Sukuna takes over."

Yuuji's eyes widen as he faces you. Megumi raises a confused brow.

" What?"

" That night in Shibuya- You- you're the one who..?"

" Yes."

Yuta blinks, confused.

" What?"

" Water manipulation works on blood. " 

Choso supplies suddenly from where he's standing.

He nods at you in understanding while the rest remains puzzled. (Except for Sukuna of course- he already knows after all.)

" Don't kill him."

You shake your head.

" Yuuji'll be fine with me."

Megumi turns to Maki.

" Maki, what do we do?"

" You guys go to Kinji as planned."

Yuuji blinks.

" Kinji?"

" Hakari Kinji, a suspended third year." 

Yuta explains.

" Anyway, we're short handed, so we gotta rope in whoever we can. Y/N, Sukuna-"

" We're in."

Sukuna doesn't look happy, and you blink up at him.

He blinks back at you.

" I know you weren't planning on leaving."

You smile at him, nodding.

" What about Kinji, is he strong?" 

Yuuji is curious about this stranger.

" Well, he's moody. But when he gets worked up, he's stronger than I am."

Maki scoffs.

" That's not true."

What that said, you all leave, leaving Yuki and Choso behind.

" Choso!"

Yuuji calls him.

" Thanks. I appreciate it."

Choso smiles.

" Don't die, okay?"

Yuuji raises his hand in greeting as your group leaves.

Off to finding Hakari it is.

[ A/N: Holy shit, sorry for the very late update, this chapter was such a pain to write damn.]

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda @sh0uk1 @nymphsdomain @suppeepsandweebs @sweetchimpeaches

[soobibabe]

only you chapter one

series masterlist / next chapter →

pairings: chairman's grandson Taehyun, ceo!reader trope/genres: enemies/academic rivals to lovers, fake dating, forced proximity (?), not arranged marriage but something close enough perhaps? warnings: none for this chapter wink wink

"Whichever one of you gets married first, gets the company" Never in Taehyun's 23 years of living had he ever heard something more ridiculous. "What do you mean marriage? You said I was the heir no questions asked the last time we spoke." he tried to keep his tone calm, but every fiber of his being was engulfed by utter betrayal. Marriage? First of all, he's only 23. Secondly, he had never openly been in a serious relationship before. All his life he put every effort into work and what he deemed beneficial for his career growth, his grandfather knew this didn't he? It's been established that Taehyun was a workaholic since he could speak. "Well, my boy, I'm 76 now. I won't be getting any younger any time soon and neither will you. Before I come to the culmination of my life, I'd like to send lineage off well. My daughters all have their own... pursuits. I'd like to see my grand follow an ever better path. For the four of you, I'd like to see you succeed beyond just work life."

Taehyun already knew all of this, his grandfather saw his kids' love lives crumble beyond his comprehension. Too caught up in work and greed that they neglected their partners. Yura (the eldest of the three) failed at three marriages altogether, Yuna (his mother, the middle child) was too busy with her corporations to tend to her husband or son, and Yejin (the youngest) was unsure if she was even attracted to many anymore after her ex-husband. What Taehyun didn't expect, or better yet underestimated, was his grandfather's determination to get him to open his heart to someone. It'd been written in stone that Taehyun would inherit the company, so is this some sort of bluff? Taehyun is the eldest grandchild, the smartest academically, most responsible, and more importantly, the chairman's favorite. "Whatever" Taehyun begins to walk off "We shall discuss this further at the next meeti-" his grandfather is cut off by a harsh slam of the door.

[one week later]

"You've sure got some sense of humor, Chairman Kang, but I'm afraid I'm lost. Why are we talking about this? I thought you came regarding last week's trade affairs?" he's not being serious, is he..? Oh but he is, Chairman Kang and my father have been business partners for as long as I've been conscious. However, right now, the man sounds absolutely unhinged. What does he mean by MARRY Kang Taehyun? As in my primary school, high school, and even university academic rival? I thought I was free of him since graduation. Like all enemies do, we promised to never willingly cross paths again outside of reunions, possible business endeavors, or events. Of course, to my father like many other things, this was a business opportunity. His daughter + possible heir of one of South Korea's biggest car companies = dollar signs beyond his imagination. Before I could say anything further, I was dismissed? ME? FROM MY OWN MEETING? Defeated, I make my way outside with my head facing the floor when the unthinkable happens. I bump head-first into the infamous Kang Taehyun. If that wasn't humiliating enough, he scoffs, pays me no mind, and walks off as though I wasn't there from the start. "fuck you too" I mumble to myself. "I'm sorry, can you repeat I didn't quite catch that" he's behind me. not just behind but pressed against me, my back to his chest. "Now you know how to say 'sorry' ?" "Yeah, your turn." "What?" "You heard me, say it." "Say what? sorry? why would I?" is he insane... "For one, you bumped into me. Two, you swore at me. and three, I'd say that was a pretty rude first impression after not seeing each other for so long, Ms. L/N" he hasn't changed one bit. "Goodbye, Kang Taehyun." I turn around, flipping him off in response, taking my leave. "I'll see you soon, y/n" huh? he'll see me soon? he's out of his mind.

It seems as though I am the only sane one here. And by here I mean in my Chairman Kangs house. In his living room. With papers held in front of me which read "marriage certificate", Kang Taehyuns signature at the very bottom. Allow me to elaborate, I was summoned here for another "meeting". This time I expected something out of the ordinary again, BUT NOT TO THIS EXTENT? Did I mention that Taehyun is here too? That's what the sly son of a bi- No. I should maintain my composure. "I'm sorry but isn't this a bit too soon chairman" I mutter through my teeth with the most unsettling smile I can muster.

"Your father and i have talked about it extensively, I assume he hasn't communicated it to you? the subject of the matter remains that Taehyun and you also uphold well-respected public images. The media would go feral if they found out there was something between you two and coincidentally, our companies launched a collaboration. What better PR than marriage?" he's got a good point, i guess. still, this is kang taehyun. i can't do that to myself? he's beautiful, sure but he's also insufferable. once was the bane of my existence. "y/n shall we continue this conversation privately?" there's a wide fake grin plastered across his face. "if we must, Mr. Kang" The chairman leaves, smirking to himself.

"You're actually following through with this Kang Taehyun?" this has to be another of his twisted games. "I don't doubt you've picked up on it already, yeah? My grandfather wants me married before he writes off his will. You're a smart girl, you understand how far I'll go for my work, right?" he's being... serious. "Still, what does that have to do with me?" "As far as my grandfather knows, you are the woman I've known more than half my life and happen to be one of his dear colleagues' only daughter. As ironic as the situation is to you and I, it makes total sense to him," Why does he always have to be so calculating "The marriage would benefit both parties and the people involved. Since we already established our relationship and views of each other, I don't have to pretend I love you to make this work and vice versa. So. what do you say?" "I say that you're an idiot. Unfortunately, my father is quite adamant about this and I'd have to put much more effort into changing his mind than what it would take to comply. Hence, I choose the latter." "That's all it took? i thought you'd put up more of a fight like the old days" "Some of us have matured, Kang Taehyun." "Anyhow, when's the wedding, Mrs. Kang" "Don't call me that. Furthermore, we have to discuss conditions first before any wedding discussion."

[2 weeks later] Kang Taehyun: We're going out tonight. You: that's how you ask a woman out? no wonder you're 23 and never had a girlfriend Kang Taehyun: How can we convince anyone that we're in love enough to get married if we've never once been spotted together? You: whatever. when and where? please say somewhere nearby I'm not interested in driving anywhere beyond the city. Kang Taehyun: Be ready by 7. Dont worry too much about the details, what kind of man would I be if I didn't pick my lady up? outgoing phone call... "7 pm Kang? Isn't that during your product launch event?" "My smart Fiancee's caught on," although his tone's condescending, the fiancee sounded almost endearing "You're my date. Wear something navy blue." he's never brought a date to any party, let alone a large event like this one. That's a lot of pressure to put on a woman.

"I'm gonna hold your hand on the entrance carpet where the photographers will be. Don't look too startled" Gee thanks for the heads up. what makes him think holding hands would make me falter? what am I, 13?

[the next day] timeline 432 new messages... 24 missed calls 1 new message from Kang Taehyun- Kang Taehyun: success ;)

A/N: I kid you not, this was only supposed to be pwp but then I got carried away and now I'm making a series... I'll be doing drabbles/requests for this story so feel free to send in ideas, I'll respond to ask many as I can!

© all rights reserved soobibabe on tumblr. do not cross-post, copy or translate etc.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (II)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,911

CW: violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen ( can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N thank you soo much for all the likes on the last post, I hope you all enjoy this one!

laughter filled the Godswood as Aemond chased after Aemma, circling the weirwood tree.

Their friendship was admired around the keep, the girl adored by all. Somehow keeping her sweet nature following her brother’s ‘prank’, though she had become timid, often hiding behind Aemond, and never letting go of his hand.

Aemond adored this, he wanted her to be utterly dependent on him, and she was. She listened to what Aemond said, often refused to do something if Aemond did want her to or was unable to come.

It was why her mother considered a match between them following the birth of her newest brother, Joffrey. Aemond had already demanded he one day become her sworn sword once he had completed his training, and she doubted he would accept Aemma’s marriage to anyone but himself.

“Aemma!” he ran up to her, picking her up and spinning around before they fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

He sighed, turning to his side “My father wishes for me to start attending dragon lessons”.

“Then I shall come also” Aemma declared, grabbing his hand, “then once we have learned we shall claim a dragon together!”

“But Aegon and your brothers will be there” Aemond spoke, trying to deter her.

“so, you don’t want me to come?” she pouted

“of course, but… they’ll be there… and they are nothing but cruel” he insisted “ I do not want them to torment both you and me over having no dragon”.

“But we are Targaryens, so what if we do not have a dragon… we are dragons!” she laughed, “please Aemond, I could not bear to part from you”.

“It will only be for a few hours”

“And what am I to do?” she got up “Wait and sew? No, I shall come!” she demanded

All Aemond could do is sigh in defeat. Though he really he wasn’t sad about it, it was not like he wanted to part from her either.

Her brothers hadn’t expected her to show up. Much to their disappointment, she had kept her distance from her brothers and Aegon for the past year. Truth be told they did not expect the prank to become what it was, to make Aemma cling to Aemond more and more. 

At dinners, she sat between their mother and father, eating as fast as possible, and on the odd occasion their grandsire called for a family dinner she would place herself between Aemond and Helaena. not uttering a word to her brothers or Aegon, running away when they were near.

And yet today she showed up, hand in hand with Aemond.

When they had heard Aemond was to start attending lessons in the dragon pit, Aegon had come up with the idea, the prank. And Jace and Luke being the jealous brothers they were more than happy to pull it.

All three of the boys regretted their prank on her and had made efforts to reconcile, all failing, miserably. And this prank would become not just a prank on Aemond, but a prank on her also seeing as her Aemond were an extension of one another, much like a dragon and its rider. what one felt, the other did too. They could almost read each other’s minds, always knowing what the other was thinking or saying.

“Aemond, we have  a surprise for you.” Aegon announced, as Jace finished with Vermax.

“Do you have one for me too?” she asked, shyly.

Aegon’s eyes softened, it was the first time she had spoken to him in gods know how long and though he would not and admit it , Aegon had grown a soft spot for the brown-haired girl. “No Aemma, but I’m sure you and Aemond could share” the last part caused Luke to giggle before running of to fetch whatever the surprise was.

“What is it?” Aemond asked, grabbing Aemma’s hand tighter and pulling her into him as Aegon wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“Something very special” he winked.

“you two are the only ones without a dragon”. 

“indeed” Aemond nodded.

“And we felt bad about it, so… we found you one, Aemond” Aegon announced.

“Found one? Where?” Aemma asked, excited for Aemond, they had always agreed to share a dragon, should one manage to claim one.

“The gods provided” Aegon stated simply, before Jace and Luke came running forward, a rope in hand…. and a pig attached to it.

“Behold…the pink dread!” they announced, as Aemond and Aemma’s face fell.

"Be sure to mount her carefully, the first flights are always rough" they laughed.

Aemond ran off, Aemma was quick to follow.

“The prince Aemond and princess Aemma” a kings guard announced dragging them into queen Alicent  chambers. 

“Aemond, Aemma?” the  queen questioned. “What did you do?”

“they did it again” Helena spoke.

“After how many times you've been warned, must I have you two confined to your chambers?

“They made me do it” Aemond insisted 

“as if you needed the encouragement” Alicent shakes her head “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“they gave him a pig” Aemma shouted, seeing Aemonds frustration 

“A what?” 

“They said they found a dragon for me… But it was a pig.” he looked down “they said we could share it”. 

“You will have a dragon one day., both off you” Alicent reassured. 

“He'll have to close an eye.” Helaena whispered lowly. 

“I know it”.

“They all laughed… they even made a tail and wings for it!”

Only Aegon received punishment from the prank, her brothers were let off her mother and grandsire deeming it childish fun and teasing, much to Aemma’s disappointment .

She returned to the cold shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge their presence, not that she did that much before.

The rift between the two families grew even further, rivalry between the mothers spreading towards the children. This time not for the throne, but for Aemma.

Aemond was always with her, the only time they did have with Aemond alone, was their swordsman lessons. Lessons which Aemond had begun to take his lessons with Ser Cole seriously, taking on the role of being Aemma’s defender and protector.

“Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.” Criston ordered.

Aemma stood above the training yard, watching beside her grandsire and the hand.

“This is the stuff, Lyonel…. Lads that learn together, train together... knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?” her grandsire spoke, a proud gleam in his voice.

“That is the hope, Your Grace.” Lynol strong agreed, “should the princess be witnessing this, your grace?” he questioned, looking towards her. She had brought a book to read Viserys, though she doubted she could sway his attention away from his sons and grandsons.

“I wish to watch Aemond, lord strong, he had wished to show me his progress” she announced, looking down proudly at Aemond as he swung his sword at the strawman.

“Ahh, let her stay, it is rare I get to see her without her shadow as is” Viserys laughed.

“of course, your grace”

“I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.” She heard Aegon gloat. “My opponent sues for mercy.”

“You'll have a new opponent then, my Lord of the Straw.” Cole spoke “Let's see if you can touch me… You and your brother” he nodded to Aemond.

“Weapons up, boys… Give your enemies no quarter” he spoke, focusing all his attentions on her uncles, as her brothers stood to the side, before greeting Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston” Harwin spoke.

“You question my method of instruction, ser?”

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.”

“Very well.” Ser Criston sneered “Jacaerys, come here…You spar with Aegon…Eldest son against eldest son”

Harwin scoffed “It's hardly a fair match.”

“I know you've never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn't something anyone should expect.” Cole snarked “Blades up… Engage.”

“grandsire” Aemma mumbled “it’s hardly fair”.

“oh, its just boys being boys Aemma” he dismissed, focusing on the yard once more.

She averted her eyes, focusing back on her book. Lynol strong too focused on her, his eyes watching her, assessing her. His gaze was soft, but he looked at he as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Lord Strong?” she spoke “would you like to read with me?” she asked, flinching at the sound of metal clashing.

“of course, princess” he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“You dare put hands on me?” she hears Aegon scream, capturing her and Lynol attention.

“You forget yourself, Strong.” She hears Cole spit out “That is the Prince.

“This is what you teach, Cole? Cruelty... to the weaker opponent?” Harwin scoffed

“Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual, Commander” he snarked back, moving in closer saying something she could not hear. Though it must not of been pleasant judging by the punch Harwin landed on her face.

“Stop!” she screamed, flinching away and burying her face in her hands.

“Stop this!” her grandsire repeated, as guards dragged Harwin away from Coles laughing bloody face.

After that everything changed.

Her mother grew desperate, having ser Harwin sent to Harrenhal. He was close to their family and his departure seemed to deeply upset her mother and Jace. she was not too bothered, her mother’s attention now lied in the new babe, Joffrey, and council meetings. She was looking for more and more support, Harwin outburst, and marriage offers seemed to be the best way to secure them.

“I wish to speak. Be seated.” Her mother spoke up, as the small council meeting was pulled to a close “I have felt the... strife... between our families of late, my queen.” She spoke to Alicent “And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.” Alicent nodded. “My daughter Aemma will inherit Dragonstone after me, I propose a marriage between Aemma and your son, Aemond, the pair are already attached at the hip, let them be the glue that once binds our two families. Ally ourselves... once and for all, let them rule Dragonstone together”

“A most judicious proposition.” Viserys agreed, smiling.

“Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, both Aemond and Aemma will have their choice of them, uh... a symbol of our goodwill.”

Alicent nodded, considering. “Rhaenyra” she sighed, looking down. She wanted time to think.

“Oh, Seven Hells. Um...”

“My dear... a dragon's egg is a handsome gift.” Viserys spoke to Alicent.

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” She nodded, dismissingly “You must rest now, husband.”

“Yes.”

“The proposal is a good one, my queen. We're a family. Let us put aside these childish quarrels. Join hands and be stronger for it.” Viserys spoke, as they made the way to his chambers.

“yes, Aemond and Aemma shall be pleased” she nodded, “but she is desperate” she sneered “She feels the earth washing away beneath her feet and now she expects us to ignore her transgressions and for me to marry my son to her...” she hesitated, “only daughter”

“Alicent” he sighed, “we agree, on the betrothal?”

“yes” she sighed, keep her beloved daughter in her grasps and she shall have Rhaenyra eating out the palm of her hand.

next part

Taglist (bold wouldn't let me tag)

my lady strong: @aemondssuit @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyy18 @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @dreamingofyourmoons @aleemendoza2425-blog

HOTD: @targaryenmoony

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 48

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Took you long enough.”

AO3

Spotify

After you looted what you could of the armory—more water bottles, granola bars, a pair of barely-used combat boots, a pistol, and a tactical shotgun—you were ready.

“Do you know how to use that,” 079 asked as you holstered the pistol into a gun belt clipped around your waist. Even with only a single tone, the computer SCP still managed to sound both mocking and unbothered.

You fumbled a little as you picked up the shotgun and began to feed it 12-gauge shells.

“Sure. I’ve watched American TV shows.” Your lips pressed together hard enough to ache. “And I’m done dealing with 035’s shit. I see him again, it’s on sight.”

You slid the last shell into place with a satisfying snap.

“Please refrain from any self-inflicted gunshot wounds until after you retrieve SCP-682.”

“I shall do my best.”

The laptop bag across your chest, with as many boxes of shotgun shells loaded into the stock bags as possible, and the actual shotgun slung across your back, you were starting to feel like a regular pack mule.

“If I survive this, I’m going to be in the best shape of my life,” you said to no one. 079 certainly wouldn’t care.

You were stalling—mentally, anyway. Physically, you were following the maintenance tunnels by which doors opened and which remained closed, leading you to your destination. A destination you desperately didn’t want to visit.

But the fraction of 079’s programming knew what it was doing, and you didn’t see anyone—human or SCP—before you made it to the freight elevator. It was unguarded. You didn’t like that, and you especially didn’t like when you got into the elevator and the doors closed but otherwise didn’t move. You pulled 079 out of the bag and opened it, expecting to get another earful of complaints.

Instead, the computer said, “Insert me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You dug around in the bag, having to push aside the boxes of slugs to get at the cable.

“The underground section is on a different system. Physically separated. I will implant another partition to this sector.”

You did not envy the techs that would have to clean up the network once this was over. If the site reopened, anyway. You didn’t know how extensive the damage was, but there was no sign of the guards retaking any of the sections you’d crossed.

“Got it,” you said, inserting the cable into the port next to the card reader. “How many MTF are down there?”

“None.”

“Are you sure?”

The floor shifted under your feet as the elevator began its descent.

“Yes.”

You watched the screen, though the face never changed.

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious? Why would they leave 682 unguarded?” Leahy sure as hell wouldn’t leave that particular door unmanned.

“When the house is on fire, do you concern yourself with the affairs of the basement?”

“…I suppose not.”

079 let its smug silence be its response. You could argue, but there wasn’t a point. You were going to the underground facility, and you could trust 079 to get you there safely. Being dead wasn’t very useful to the computer SCP.

The elevator ride was just as long as you remembered, and you didn’t want to imagine how far down it was, exactly. 079 probably knew. You didn’t ask.

The doors parted, and the long tunnel lay before you, the same as before. Nothing had changed, and you hadn’t expected it to. The chill of being so far underground was no gentler the second time experienced. The Site Director might not be here to order you into the bedrock depths, but that was a fleeting comfort.

True to 079’s words, no MTF soldiers greeted your arrival. You were alone for the long walk, the computer tucked safely back in the bag. You didn’t need directions for this part.

Five minutes on foot and you were once again before the massive vault door. There were no techs to open it for you this time, so you set 079 on the nearby console, opened the computer, and plugged in the cable.

The massive door began its arduous task of opening, 079 clearing the way before you could say a word. You glanced down the dark tunnel, the catwalk disappearing into darkness before it flickered to life, lights now guiding your path.

The underground facility must have had its own power source as well as security system separate from the facility above. You sensed Leahy’s hand in the design. It was smart. You could admit that, begrudgingly, to absolutely no one.

“You may proceed,” 079 said.

“Do you want to come with me?”

The computer paused. It never paused.

“…Yes.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you picked up the laptop, keeping it open as you propped it on your arms.

“Excited to see him again?”

You descended the metal stairs from the control platform, careful not to trip in the dim light, steadier on your feet once your path was illuminated by the catwalk lights.

“I do not possess the hardware to experience such a state as ‘excited.’”

“No? Your fans don’t whir a little faster? Your circuits don’t strain a bit harder?”

Its fans did, indeed, whir a little faster.

“You dignify those around you when you choose not to speak.”

“Oh, we’re way past dignity, buddy.”

It was nearly silent apart from your booted feet against the metal platform. The remembered fear of the last time you traversed this catwalk lingered on your tongue, bitter and sharp. Despite the chaos of the containment breach and the uncertainty that lay ahead, you felt more in control than your first visit. There was no Site Director to threaten you with unpleasant ultimatums.

You thought of Leahy and what he might be doing to try and quell the breach. From the sound of it, he hadn’t been very successful. You wondered if he knew it was you who started it.

You hoped he did.

Static burst from the laptop at the same moment the screen glitched, flicking and stretching out the digital face. You came to a sudden stop.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question was answered with a loud, low mechanical groan from further ahead, the kind that came from metal scraping against metal in a way it decidedly shouldn’t. The end of the tunnel flickered, and then the loud clang and clatter of something heavy falling to the floor.

“Shit,” you said through clenched teeth. You didn’t wait for 079 to answer before backing up, moving out of range of whatever was happening in 682’s chamber.

“Must---destroy----theanomaly---" 079’s voice cut in through bits of digital fuzz. “Containment---isfailing---"

“682?” You peered closer at the unstable screen. “But… I thought you wanted to save him. I can’t--… I won’t kill him.”

“Not---682,” it answered, annoyance conveyed even through the constant glitching. “The---other---one.”

“Other one? What other one?”

But the screen plunged into darkness, leaving your own frustrated expression staring back at you.

“Shit!”

You placed the open laptop on the floor of the catwalk, hoping if—when—you came back, you could get 079 working again. But you had bigger problems on your hands; vibrations thrummed up the catwalk and the occasional metallic boom told you that you were running out of time.

The chamber at the end of the tunnel was nothing like the way you had left it. The strange panels that had been facing towards the writhing form of 682 were broken or knocked aside, sparks snapping the air as live wires trailed along the walls.

Every hair on your body stood upright as you approached the circular portion of the walkway that went around the floating entity. It had… grown. It was difficult to look at, as if staring into the sun, yet it gave off no light of its own. It just simply… made your eyes ache, but the longer you stared, the more it came into focus:

A circular black sphere with a silver film over its edges, as if coated in a thin layer of mercury. The event horizon.

682 had called it another entity. A singularity. You knew of an SCP that was a black hole. You hadn’t realized it was at Site-20, but then again, the reptile wasn’t supposed to be here either.

As you watched, pieces of railing and platform flaked off and spiraled toward the ravenous void that shouldn’t exist. Your hair still stood on end, the tips of it being gently tugged toward the gravitational field. It was slowly consuming the room, and if it continued at this rate, it would swallow the rest of the facility and beyond. You couldn’t see 682 anywhere, and you wondered if the Site Director had finally gotten what he wanted.

And wouldn’t he be so pleased to know at least one of his projects was a success.

That thought more than anything fueled you forward, your fists clenched at your sides as you faced the entity, SCP-123. The protective outer casing had been removed, leaving it in danger of becoming unstable, which it now was. You didn’t know if it had become that way because of the breach, or because no one was left to keep it from expanding past the chamber.

Leahy, you idiot.

But what had his instructions been when he’d wanted you to destroy 682? Make physical contact with the anomaly. And when you rooted out the anomalous influence in the patient in medical, you’d also had to touch him. The very touch that had weakened 049.

But how were you supposed to touch a black hole?

A sharp cry cut through your indecision. Impossibly, a grey snout erupted from the anomalous mass, sharp teeth bared in an agonized snarl before disappearing back into the void.

682 was alive! As soon as that fact was made apparent, it simply didn’t matter what you could or couldn’t do. You had to try something before there was nothing left of him.

You stepped up to the edge of the circular railing, wobbling as the gravitation pull tugged harder with every inch closer. It felt wrong, like falling deep into black water and not knowing which way was up or down.

But this wasn’t just any collapsed gravitational mass. It was one that shouldn’t exist. It was anomalous. An SCP, just like any other. And if it was close enough to affect you, then it stood to reason that the reverse should also be true.

The tugging on your clothes and hair became more insistent, the pull washing over your skin with a magnetic touch, threatening to lift you off the catwalk. But you denied it, shunted the sensation aside, centering your weight. You imagined yourself as too heavy for the anomaly to lift, and the gravitational pull seemed to ease.

But you didn’t want to shut out the anomaly. You had to draw it in, just as it was trying to do the same to you.

You had no clue what you were doing, running on the same instinct that drew you to the time-displaced patient. Closing your eyes, you reached out a hand toward the entity, doing the same with your thoughts.

The reaction was instantaneous. A howling wind rushed from the entity, forcing your hair back from your face as it whipped past. The singularity burst open, breaching past its own event horizon, expanding in a misshapen, gaping wound.

But past the wounded edges lay thousands of distant stars, opulent nebulas, and asteroid fields of swirling gas and ice. You could see it even with your eyes closed, viewing past the collapsed mass to what could be the other side of the universe.

A slow smile spread across your face, the wind sweeping over your skin leaving you unburned, but the panels behind you caught fire, and what didn’t catch ablaze melted down the walls.

You opened your eyes. Whatever fear in you had fled the moment you’d connected with the entity. You just wanted to see it, and you stared in wonder as your hand seemed to float in the deep reaches of space. It should have been impossible; the cold would have frozen your hand immediately, and the unshielded radiation would quickly lead to an agonizing death.

But none of that happened. It was beautiful. It shouldn’t exist, but you were glad it did, even if it had been twisted for someone else’s purpose into the horrific and cruel.

Your smile faded. As much as you might wish there was another way, 682 needed to be free, and the facility above wouldn’t survive much longer with an open wormhole beneath it.

You were about to try and figure out how to destroy the anomaly when you noticed a much closer celestial object. A planet orbiting a blue star, but it seemed to absorb none of its light, covered darkness even on the day side.

As you looked closer, you realized you were wrong. The planet wasn’t covered by permanent night, it was covered with a black sea. This became more apparent when the planet turned and you caught a glimpse of an isolated continent, twinkling lights glowing along its entire surface, as if it was one giant metropolis.

Something tugged at the edges of your thoughts, a vie for your attention even more enticing than the one of the black hole. It seemed to… call to you. Inviting you to dive into its glittering depths and never resurface.

You shuddered and took a breath, steadying yourself against the alien pull. It grew stronger. You tried not to panic, sensing that losing your control now would cause the temporary opening to tear apart, taking you and the facility along with it.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything else, focusing on the feeling you got whenever 049 was beside you—solid, steadfast, serene, even in moments that could lead to his death. He didn’t waver easily, and you borrowed that strength, your own too easily forgotten in moments where your survival relied on your ability to do the impossible.

Slowly closing your fingers until it curled into a fist, you reached out for the connection between the chamber and the other side—and began to squeeze.

The wind swirling around the chamber picked up speed, a howling gale that shook more panels from the walls, the lights dangerously flickering and threatening to leave you in darkness. The celestial window shrank in wobbly fits and starts, until it finally stabilized and condensed into the closed palm of your hand.

And then it was simply… gone, and the image of the glowing city faded into the back of your mind, like a disturbing dream forgotten in the light of morning.

The chamber was eerily quiet, the only light source from a few working overhead light panels. It looked like remnants of a warzone, though it was unclear what weapons had been used and who the casualties were.

“682?” you called softly into the darkness.

There was no response aside from the occasional stray spark and groaning shift of metal.

Had you been too late? What would happen to 049 now?

You sat on the half-melted catwalk, burying your face in your hands. Even if 049’s fate didn’t hang in the balance, you’d wanted to succeed. You’d never been entirely onboard with the Foundation’s obsession with destroying 682. None of them stopped to think that maybe the humanity-hating reptile hated them because they wouldn’t stop trying to kill him.

His last containment cell had been an acid-filled pool, for Christ’s sake—

“Took you long enough.”

Dropping your hands, a quick glance around the chamber didn’t reveal the owner of that familiar voice. No towering, monstrous silhouettes, or glowing eyes in the darkness.

“Aim lower.”

You looked down at what appeared to be a grey gecko clinging to the tip of your boot.

“…682?”

“In the flesh. What remains of it.”

He narrowed his yellow eyes, but the intimidation was hard to take seriously when he could fit into the palm of your hand. Despite his diminutive size, his deep timbre remained the same, though it had lost its booming quality. Still… that voice coming out of that tiny body made the whole thing surreal, bordering on ridiculous.

Don’t laugh.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive. I was afraid I was too late, or I screwed up—”

He zipped up your leg to rest atop your knee faster than you could blink.

“Where is 079?”

This close up, it was easier to tell he wasn’t a normal gecko. At least, you were fairly sure most geckoes didn’t have green manes trailing from their heads down their backs.

“A little further down the walkway,” you said, tilting your head toward the catwalk. “I think 123 was interfering with the electronics.”

682 bared his tiny but sharp teeth.

“Take me to him.”

You put a palm against the grated floor to get to your feet, but 682 didn’t move from your knee.

“Uh… can I pick you up? Or touch you at all? I don’t want to hurt you.”

682 made a noise as if he found the idea ludicrous and maybe a little bit insulting.

“Your touch will only cease my healing function. I would advise not crushing me while you carry me. For your sake.”

079 had delivered the same threat about the laptop. Suddenly, the fun-sized reptile was no longer adorably harmless. Not when your frail human fingers were so close to his needle teeth.

“I won’t.”

You held out your hand, and 682 gave a small hop into your palm.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit adorable.

You rose to your feet, careful not to squish the small body cupped within your hands. 682 didn’t look back at the room that served as his torture chamber, and neither did you.

“You shouldn’t have brought 079 so close,” he grumbled as you walked. “It’s reckless. Stupid.”

“Tell that to 079. He wanted to see you. Wouldn’t leave without you.”

If 682 was pleased by the news, he gave no outward sign of it, but reading the body language and facial expressions of small reptiles wasn’t exactly in your skillset. Still, you found their whole dynamic to be… interesting. Were they friends? Lovers? Some other undefinable thing that only made sense to them? Whatever it was, at least you caught on to the fact you could refer to 079 as a “he” instead of an “it.” Getting your nose munched on by a pint-sized terror was something you wanted to avoid.

As soon as 079 was in sight, still where you left him on the floor, 682 leapt from your hands and practically zoomed over the open laptop. As soon as his paws touched the keyboard, the screen flickered to life, 079’s face illuminating the reptile.

“SCP-682. You are still functioning.” The computer paused. “I am… glad.”

682 stared up at the screen, a pink tongue flicking out of his mouth before disappearing, surely a sign he was pleased.

“Likewise, old friend.”

You stepped forward.

“I hate to break up the reunion—”

682 whirled and hissed at you, his tail stiff and his head thrown back to make him appear bigger than he was.

You held up your hands.

“Okay. You can stay where you are, but I need to carry you both out of here.”

The reptile closed its snout and gave you an impressive stink eye for only being a couple inches off the ground.

“You may pick me up,” 079 intoned dully. “She has not dropped me. Yet.”

682’s tail flicked at the side, finally turning his back to you to face the screen, apparently satisfied with 079’s glowing recommendation of your competency.

It was awkward carrying an open laptop with a miniature menace seated on the keyboard with a shotgun slung over your back, but it wasn’t any worse than what you’d already endured. You tried not to pay attention to their conversation, which wasn’t hard considering the two of them acted as if you weren’t there. Their main focus seemed to be catching up since the breach at Site-19. It was a brief topic, as 079 had spent the time on a thumb drive in a bag, and 682 had been trapped in a looping gravitational blender.

By the time you’d reached the elevator and plugged 079 into the port, they’d moved on to their shared hatred of humanity and how the humans hadn’t even been able to destroy the two SCPs properly. You suddenly felt sorry for 049. Is this what it had been like during the breach at Site-19? Ignored by the wonder twins, only to have the mask draped over him like an itchy blanket?

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind you and it began its quick ascent, you interrupted 079 going on about fascinating ways the facility was rigged to kill its inhabitants.

“There is even a gas nozzle attached to each staff quarters in case any Foundation personnel flee for shelter during a total breach—”

“Where is 049?”

The lizard turned to look up at you, and even the computer paused, as if only just remembering you were still there.

“I did what you asked,” you reminded the screen. “I held up my end of the bargain.”

682 snorted, tail flicking like a cat’s.

“What do you want with that old relic?” he asked. “He’s only deadly within the scope of his reach, and we don’t have time for his asinine attempts at resurrection.”

Before you could respond, 079 said, “This one had sexual intercourse with SCP-049.”

682 let out a guffaw.

“That-that has nothing to do with it!”

“But it doesn’t hurt.”

Your face burned worse at his toothy grin. How had it come to this, being mocked by SCPs for your—admittedly strange—relationship with 049? Not that you’d had much of a choice with what had happened between you, but still. It was the principle of it.

You ignored the amused reptile and glared at 079.

“I do not know where SCP-049 is currently being held,” the computer relented. “I can only relay his last known location.”

“Which is?”

“Medical Suite B with Site Director Leahy.”

Your stomach dropped so fast you had to fight down the nausea.

“How long ago?”

“Immediately following SCP-106’s release,” 079 said. “The entity went directly for the medical wing. Its presence interferes with electronics. I do not know what took place in the infirmary, the observation equipment no longer functions. But SCP-049 has not been captured by any other cameras. It is reasonable to say, he did not leave the room.”

You leaned back against the elevator wall, trying not to let the news steal what little hope you had left.

“Then… we go to the medical wing. Get in that room, see what happened.”

“Or,” 079 said, “you could ask the Site Director.”

“Leahy?” You straightened. “Where is he?”

“Entrenched within his office. There are four site facility guards with him, all heavily armed.”

“So, he’s… fine? I don’t understand.” You rubbed your forehead. “Why would 106 go straight to the infirmary but leave the Site Director unharmed? We know from past incident reports that he’s intelligent enough to recognize individuals. He must know who Leahy is.”

It shouldn’t be possible for a reptile and computer to exchange a glance, yet they did.

“Historically, the old ghoul hasn’t been fond of 049’s attempts to cure him,” 682 said when the other SCP remained silent. “My guess? He went for the easier prey, and he’s biding his time with the Site Director.”

Easier prey?!

“Then we-we have to go straight to the infirmary! We have to help him!”

How much time had you wasted running errands for 079 after 035 had held you captive? He should have told you what happened to 049, he should have let you go to him—

“You don’t want to step foot inside that room without knowing what you’re walking into,” the reptile said, his tone unusually even. When he spoke to you, it was generally with rage or mockery, but this was different, like he was trying to convince you how reasonable he was being. “If there’s one thing 106 enjoys besides hunting, it’s setting traps and lying in wait.”

“106 can’t hurt me!”

“Arrogance,” 682 spit, some of his venom returning. “Are you the one at 106’s mercy?”

Your mouth snapped shut, the midpoint of your chest aching.

“My advice?” the reptile continued, “Get to the Site Director. Find out exactly what happened. And go into that room with a hell of a lot more power than 079 and I possess.”

Your laugh was a small, hopeless thing.

“I can’t think of anything more powerful than the two of you.”

“As flattered as I am, I’m still regaining my mass.” 682 paced across the keyboard, his tiny claws making clacking noises on the keys. “Subsuming flesh will accelerate the process, but that’s not what I mean by power. You will need to prepare.”

682 stopped his pacing and looked up at 079. The computer spoke.

“Safe Object Storage.”

“What about it?”

“That is your next destination.”

You swallowed down the tightness in your throat. As it stood, a couple of guns wouldn’t be able to get past Leahy’s guards to interrogate him, let alone handle 106 on your own. You had little choice but to continue trusting 079.

“Will it help?”

682 turned to you, his mouth spreading in a sharp grin.

“It’ll help.”