#surrounded by nothing but the breeze and good vibes?

[heymacy]

hii, macy 👋🏻🌻🌾

we're chilling here, okay. julissa is there, too ✊🏻😔

BE THERE IN 20!!! 🌼🌻🌾🏃🏻‍♀️

[aesethewitch]

Ambient Spells

The idea of the ambient spell isn’t so uncommon. My use of the word “ambient” may throw you for a bit of a loop. An ambient spell is any spell that permeates a space in an unobtrusive way. They affect the area surrounding their vessel and require little to no maintenance or upkeep. They’re long-term workings that require varying levels of effort to put together and cast. Depending on what exactly you need, they can be as simple as setting out a bowl of salt or as complex as crafting a home decor piece from scratch.

I always recommend making ambient spells that are self-fueling. I often refer to them also as “set it and forget it” spells. They’re the crockpot of spellwork — work up front for a slow burn output.

Chances are that you’re already aware of or even know how to create ambient spells. Any spell that affects the vibe of a room, for example, would count as an ambient spell. Lighting incense specifically to invite in positive energy counts. A ward that sucks up baneful magic and transforms it into blessings also counts. The primary idea of an ambient spell is that it’s making a change to your environment in the background. It’s the cool breeze in summertime, the subtle piano at a fancy restaurant, the scent of fresh-baked cookies fading as the day goes by. Positive, but not overt.

When to Use (or Not Use) an Ambient Spell

By their nature, ambient spells are fairly general workings. They can be quite powerful, of course, just like any other spell. The thing to keep in mind is that they’re not ideal for targeted magic.

For example, I wouldn’t create an ambient spell to banish someone from my life. I might make an ambient spell to make an area unwelcoming to them, or to anyone who would do me harm. The unwelcoming vibe might discourage them from coming around, sure. But it may not work outside of the area the spell lives in; and it may not get rid of them for good.

Similarly, an ambient spell might make a good general ward for keeping out loud, unwelcome spirits, but it wouldn’t specifically cast out the one particular spirit who’s been causing problems. It might discourage their behavior, but it wouldn’t necessarily get rid of them. A concentrated, single-use banishing spell would work significantly better for that purpose. Afterwards, an ambient spell can keep the area clear of that spirit’s influence.

I also wouldn’t use an ambient spell to draw in specific success. General success or money, absolutely — whatever wants to come my way is welcome, via a basic money bowl set up next to my wallet. But if I specifically want a promotion or a particular amount of money, I’m not going to leave that to the ambient money spell. I would craft a spell specifically for what I’m looking for.

When deciding what kind of spell to cast, keep this idea in mind. An ambient spell is best for behind-the-scenes results that happen without your concentrated effort. When you want something specific, a more targeted spell will work better nine times out of ten.

Creating an Ambient Spell

It’s possible to create an ambient spell with nothing but energy work. However, I often find that these fade quickly and don’t lend themselves well to self-fueling. They tend to need more active upkeep than I prefer for a spell that’s meant to be set and let go. I recommend choosing an appropriate vessel of some kind to contain the spell to help it last longer.

How do you decide what’s an appropriate vessel, though? And how do you set one up? How do you make a spell self-fueling? Let’s start from the top and go in order.

Identify the Purpose

Decide what the spell will do. This is going to define the components and the way you’re going to cast the spell. In my experience, ambient spells work best when they’re given a single purpose. For example, I wouldn’t make a spell that’s a ward and a cleanser and a spirit welcome mat. It dilutes the purpose. Choose a single, clear motive for the spell.

Choose a Vessel

Now that you know what your spell will do, it’s time to decide what it’s going to look like. The vessel you choose should reflect the spell’s purpose in some way.

An open bowl works well for absorbing energy. Why? It’s open. The face of it is open to the room, ready to take in whatever kind of energy you assign to its contents.

A closed jar, on the other hand, would be good for repelling. It’s closed off and sealed — a one-way road going out of the jar and into the room to clear it.

A wreath hung at the door could serve a lot of purposes, depending on what it’s made with. I would use a wreath as an agent of transformation or as an energy emitter to release a certain energy into the space.

A stone makes a solid vessel for protection or grounding. I have one on my working altar to help keep me in the moment and create a good environment for working magic.

When you’re choosing your spell vessel, keep in mind how visible you want it to be. Certain vessels are going to naturally be more obvious than others. A wreath, for example, is hard to miss — but it also just looks like nice home decor. A jar full of herbs and things would be more obviously a spell, but they can be small and easily hidden.

I have both obvious and hidden ambient spells peppered around my home for varying purposes. If you’re keeping your practice a secret, you’ll likely want to keep your spells more obscure or hidden. But if you aren’t, and you can make the choice of whether you want the spell to be in plain sight or not, consider the effect you want the spell to have.

If you want the spell to absorb bad vibes, baneful magics, the evil eye, or other negativity, a hidden spell might serve you well. Hiding the vessel somewhere means that whoever’s casting against you may not expect the resistance. On the other hand, if you want a vessel that allows friendly spirits to visit you during the holidays, a beautiful centerpiece on your dining table that’s charmed with spirit-friendly magic might serve the purpose.

Choose an Energy Source

Ambient spells need to draw energy from somewhere. Think of it like a battery. The ingredients you put into the spell may provide a temporary charge, but if you want the spell to be long-term, it needs an input. How will your spell recharge itself?

If you want the spell to be shorter-term, only a few days or so, then you can skip this step. But if you want an ambient spell to last a while, like a ward or vibe-adjuster, you’ll need to think about this carefully.

Like when choosing the vessel, the energy source should match the purpose of the spell. For example, I have a simple room refresher spell set on a table that’s central to my home. The purpose of it is to take anxiety and negative thoughts to turn them into positivity. I set it up so that the act of walking past the bowl swirls the air around it, and therefore also the energy around it. That kinetic energy fuels the bowl’s magic and keeps it going. I don’t have to actively recharge the bowl or its contents, because we walk past it constantly.

Another example would be an ambient spell to help you do the dishes. (Whether that’s remembering to do them or finding the motivation for it is up to you.) The fuel for the spell could be the act of walking into or past the kitchen, running water elsewhere in the home, or even cooking or eating.

The energy source could also be something like lighting a candle next to or over the vessel on a schedule, if you prefer. This would add an upkeep step, of course, and wouldn’t be my first choice. The only ambient spell I do this with is my money bowl, and that’s because it’s tuned to be able to shift focus from day to day depending on what exactly I need (commissions versus tips versus discounts, etc.).

Setting Up an Ambient Spell

Decide where you want to place your spell’s vessel ahead of time. If you have pets or kids, make sure you put whatever it is out of their reach. If the vessel is something like an uncovered bowl, you’ll want to be sure that it isn’t going to get knocked over. Similarly, if it’s made of glass, you don’t want it to fall and shatter. If your vessel needs to be hidden somehow, determine where you’ll keep it. It would be smart to make note of where the spell is and what it looks like in your grimoire or spell notebook just so that if you forget about it, you can identify it later on down the road.

After you know where you want to put it, it’s time to choose ingredients and fill your vessel. The components you decide on should, obviously, match your goals.

Casting an ambient spell is much the same as casting a regular spell. The only thing to keep in mind is that an ambient spell has a sort of prolonged release.

Upkeep and Care of an Ambient Spell

For the most part, ambient spells should require little to no upkeep. With that said, you should still do routine check-ups on them. I include them in my regular rounds when I check on my wards and various protections, but you could do yours whenever it makes the most sense to you.

Depending on how you decided to fuel your spell, you may need to do a bit of feeding. Whether that’s lighting a new candle, refilling a cup of water, mixing around a pile of herbs, or giving the vessel a little shake, do so anytime it feels like the spell’s energy is flagging. It may take some practice in sensing energy to know exactly when a spell needs refueling. This is partly why I suggest creating a schedule to check in on the spell; ambient spells are a great type to practice sensing spell energy, since they’re typically long-lasting and may wax or wane depending on the day.

If your spell is fully self-fueling and it doesn’t seem to be working anymore (or at all, even from the start), it’s time to take it apart. Discard disposable components according to your practice’s tenets. Cleanse the rest for future use. I would suggest washing your spell vessel alongside magical cleansing.

A Ready-to-Use Example

Here’s an extremely simple example of an ambient spell I use in my home to keep the main living area light, fresh, and conducive to getting work done. Since both my partner and I work from home, it’s important that our areas have an aura of focus.

Materials:

- A small bowl, preferably green or brown - Enough salt to fill the bowl halfway - A few pinches of dried rosemary

Instructions:

1. Ensure the bowl is clean and dry. Pour salt into the bowl until it’s halfway full. 2. Sprinkle dried rosemary into the salt and stir. 3. Instruct the spell, in whatever way makes sense to you, to exude focused but calm energy into the space. 4. Place the bowl in an area that is frequently trafficked. 5. Leave the bowl in place until it no longer provides a fresh, focused energy to the space. Dispose of the contents, clean the bowl, and reset the spell.

Notes: - This spell is powered by movement specifically, because both my partner and I work from home, and we pace when we’re having a hard time focusing. The spell draws in the energy from our pacing and the frustration we’re putting out to fuel itself. It then transforms and releases the energy as calm, focus, and productivity. - I suggest a green or brown bowl because this spell is meant to work for our jobs. Green for success, brown for grounding. Personally, my bowl has both colors. - When instructing the spell, you can speak to the bowl, write a petition, do an incantation, or whatever else you like. This is the most personal part of the spell, and it’s what makes the thing Go. It’s up to you to decide how it’s going to work.

Final Thoughts

I would hesitate to call ambient spells “low energy” spellwork. While they can be low-energy-friendly in the long run, and they can be extremely simple to set up (such as the one I described above), they aren’t always. Ambient spells do require an up-front energy cost. Even so, I find them very rewarding and useful.

Folks who visit my home often comment that it’s an inviting, friendly, good-natured space where they can leave their worries and anxieties behind. That’s on purpose. I’ve got ambient spells in place that eat up anxiety and spit out positivity. I’ve got ones that repel hexes and are charged by sunlight. All of these spells are long-lasting and well worth the effort it took to create them.

I hope this little guide is useful to you! If you’ve got questions, feel free to send me an ask. I’m happy to ramble about ambient spells or other types of magic as much as you’d like.

And if you did enjoy this post, consider dropping a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters of all types (tips, commissions, shop purchases, and memberships) get early access to posts like this, sometimes up to two weeks early, and every bit helps me keep the lights on.

[jamminvroomvroom]

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember. 


everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

-

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

-

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

-

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

-

taglist

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i’ve removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

[amsznn]

heyy i love your writing! idk if this is where you take requests or not or if you do requests but i have a kinda specific one? could you do one with matt where y/n has her own small, cozy home, and she and matt kinda unspokenly like each other and hang out alone all the time? like they're super close and flirt low key all the time in small, sweet ways, and they're "just friends" but could definitely be found watching a scary movie alone together in her super cozy room *sorta* cuddling? going on late night drives together and talking for hours?? that kinda relationship! like id just LOVEE for you to write about a breezy fall night, her bedroom windows open, fall scented candles in her room, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a scary movie kinda cuddled up with matt under thick blankets? but they obviously like each other a lot and he's the first one to tell her and share really cute kisses??? you know?? like matt can't fully focus on the movie because his heart is beating out of his chest with super cute feelings for y/n. just lots of fluff, cozy fall vibes, nothing super cringey! i hope i got the very specific vibe across haha!

CAN WE BE MORE? - m. sturniolo ⋆⭒˚.

A/N: TYSM for this request, its soo good and hopefully you enjoy reading my take on it!

-

no one was more excited for fall like you and your best friend matt were. in your eyes, fall was when you thrived the most. with the nice breeze, to the crunch of the leaves under your converse as you make yourself up your driveway, nothing could compare.

opening up the door to your small apartment, you immediately felt at ease. quickly kicking off your shoes, you made your way to your living room that was sorta a mess from yesterday’s activities. the triplets came over to bake cookies with you, but chris ended up crashing on the couch. it was no big deal though, you loved the triplets. maybe sometimes you had a little more love for one.

snapping out of your thoughts, you checked your phone to see the time. 5:30. the triplets would be coming over once again so you could have your anual scary movie session.

the day went on with you cleaning every crevasse of your house, of course knowing it would go back to it’s horrid state after the boys got there. then you made your way to your room, looking around to see if anything was out of place. you noticed that matt’s blanket was hanging off your bed so you made way to grab it. matt sometimes liked sleeping over to get away from all the chaos. it was normal for your friendship with him. nothing ever really happened though.

although you loved all three of them, you couldn’t help but wish for some more alone time with matt. maybe it was selfish but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded ten times faster whenever he was around, or when he would sneak glances at you thinking you weren’t looking. maybe it was all in your head, you thought to yourself.

the time was now 6:20, and the sun had already fully set, which made for a cozy environment in your house with the lights dimmed, and pumpkin scented candles flickering. you also made a mental note to check on the cookies you put under the oven.

a few minutes later you heard your front door start to open. it didn’t alarm you since the triplets had an extra key. well, matt had an extra key. “y/n?” you heard a familiar voice call out from the hallway. you couldn’t hide your excited expression as you made your way towards the voice.

you expected to be bombarded by nick, and chris as well but nope, it was only matt. “hey, where are your brothers?” you asked, taking the bag of snacks out of his hands.

shuffling to take his shoes off matt says, “well, i thought it’d be better if it was just us.” you blinked for a couple of moments before smiling. “sure why not, maybe we can actually finish the movie this time.” you chuckled, before making your way to the kitchen, with matt following closely behind you.

he sighed when he smelled the aroma of the cookies surrounding the area. he always secretly loved coming over alone. he liked spending time with just you. of course you guys hang out occasionally like going to random food places together, or heading to the thrift store, but something was different when just hanging out at your house. over the years it’s become like a safe place for matt where he can escape from the world for a little bit. you were his escape. except how does he tell you that?

he watched as you opened the oven to take the cookies out, forgetting about oven mitts, and heat. “hot! hot! hot!” you shouted but refusing to drop your cookies on the floor. matt quickly made his way to you with and oven mitt and placed the cookies on the counter before turning to you. “are you okay??” he asked while gently taking your hands to inspect your burns.

it was nothing fatal, nothing cold water and vaseline couldn’t fix. he led you to the sink and held your hand under the cold water. “stay right here, okay? i’ll go get some vaseline.” matt knew his way around your house like the back of his hand, so he came back with the vaseline in no time. taking your hand out of the water, he gently dried it with a towel, before applying the vaseline to it.

you scrunched your face up at the uncomfortable contact which matt seemed to notice. “i know, i know, but this is what happens when you forget the fucking oven mitt”

you couldnt help but laugh. “hey, i just wanted my cookies.” matt softly smiled before letting your hand go. you both stood there for what seemed like an eternity just staring at each other. until you realized the oven was still on. (id burn the house down yall)

-

after that whole fiasco, you and matt ended up settling down on the couch to watch your favorite scary movie. there wasn’t a lot of space between you two since you liked being close to matt whenever watching these movies. no matter who was there you subconsciously were always closer to him.

the movie started and you were bundled up in your blanket while matt’s arm rested on the couch behind you. although the movie was creepy, the smile on your face almost never left since you felt so secure with matt. eventually though, that smile faded away as a jumpscare popped up on your screen. causing you to jump closer into matt’s side.

on the other hand, matt was freaking out. and not because of the movie. sure you guys have cuddled before, but that doesn’t mean he never longed for more. or for it to more than just two friends being close. his eyes darted between you and the screen. he was sure you could hear the pounding of his chest. he gently removed his arm from the couch and wrapped it around your shoulder, making sure to watch your reaction, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

you sighed at the contact and rested your head on his chest further. if anyone walked in right now, they’d definitely think you were a couple. but unfortunately you were just two friends as of right now.

eventually the movie ended, but you and matt’s position on the couch didn’t. his arm was still around you, afraid that if he’d move just a little, you’d move away. you looked up at matt and found him staring right back at you. this made you shift up, to properly sit. “what?” you asked him.

matt’s mouth only opened and closed. desperately trying to find the right words. eventually he just sighed, letting everything out. “y/n, i know we’ve been friends for a while but i really cant keep ignoring my feelings like this.” matt shifted on the couch as you listened, worried that you did something wrong.

“i like you, or maybe love im not sure, but i do know that you mean so much to me, and just being friends is killing me.” matt paused for a moment to catch his breath from rambling so much. “i just want to be more.”

“you have no idea how much ive been wanting to hear that from you.” you softly laughed as you watched matt’s face soften. “i love you too, matt.”

matt only smiled as he brought you into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder. “can i kiss you?” he asks, close to a whisper. you nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck. matt smiled at this and leaned in, before his lips landed on yours. matt’s arms made their way down your body and landed on the sides of your waste, trying to pull you in closer.

it felt like your heart was going to explode at any moment with the way matt’s lips were moving against yours. he was gentle, but passionate. matt pecked your lips a couple of times before pulling back and holding you there.

“so, can i be your boyfriend?” he asks, bringing his hand up to caress your face.

“of course you can.”

-

A/N: i really hope this is what you meant / wanted. this was an amazing first request, i was literally smiling while reading it. If anything, message me if you want anything added or changed and leave some more requests!

also ty guys so so much for the love on my recenr works, its so crazy, love you all <3

[pixel-percy]

🌊 A Modern Sensei AU — Mizu's private lessons are helpful but sometimes she just drives you crazy... Maybe in more ways than one. 🌊

🌊 Word Count: 1.7k 🌊 Music Vibes: Make Me Water by Tyla 🌊 Warning(s): Smut (giving head), public sex (they're outside), light Dom/Sub (bratty reader), & mentor/mentee power imbalance (it's all consensual) 🌊 A/N: I've had this on my backlog for so long and I finally got it out of my brain. I loved Blue Eye Samurai when I watched it and Mizu is just so... 😏 hehe

The smack of the wooden sword against your ass was a bit rougher than any of the previous taps you’d received from Mizu. You winced, as you whipped around to look at her, jaw clenched.

“Ow,” you said tersely.

“You keep making the same mistake,” she said cooly, posture impeccable. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips but she resisted letting it form fully. “You’re not gonna learn if there aren’t any consequences.”

You tensed a little at her tone and how her eyes watched your face behind the yellow tint of her glasses. A gentle breeze moved through the Summer air of the forest and the steady trickle of a nearby river permeated the tense silence between you.

“Well, it still hurt.”

“Didn’t think you’d complain about that,” she replied. A small blush crept along your cheeks but you refused to yield to her incessant teasing. Nothing ever came of it, just shoulder pushes and eye rolls, yet she persisted as if she enjoyed the game of it all despite her cool demeanor.

It was hard to get a read on her sometimes despite how much you wanted to, so you did your best to temper your expectations since these “private lessons” started months ago. You’d known each other for a year or so before, and when you expressed interest in learning some self-defense, Mizu was the first to offer. She had her own dojo and though you offered to pay her, she refused. So here you were.

“Back in your stance,” she instructed and sunk easily into the one she preferred.

“Can we move on from this today?” You didn’t mean to sound so petulant but it was warm and you had messed up this particular set up more times than you wanted to admit. The sting of Mizu’s ‘corrections’ were starting to catch up with you, and while you kind of loved the sensation, the warm air was making you testy.

“Back in your stance,” Mizu repeated.

You sighed deeply.

“3, 2, 1… Go.”

The strikes of the wooden swords echoed through the trees, a steady rhythm that temporarily disrupted the peaceful silence its creatures typically knew. You could feel Mizu pushing you, blocking attacks at the last second, feet dragging through the moss and grass as you tried to find a better position. Mizu didn’t let up.

You moved, focused on Mizu’s strikes, and felt your foot suddenly slip on the river’s edge, sending you crashing unceremoniously into the waist-deep water with a screech. It was too fast for Mizu to grab you despite reaching for you and calling your name.

“SHIT,” you shouted after you broke the surface of the river.

Mizu’s eyes were wide, grimacing, but it looked like she was fighting a laugh. You glared at her and rose to your feet with as much grace as possible. Mizu bit her lip to suppress a bubble of laughter before she extended a hand for you to grab.

“Well, this is a good reminder for another lesson,” she said as you took her hand. “Be aware of your surroundings.”

Your jaw clenched and, instead of allowing her to assist you back onto the grass, you narrowed your eyes, sank your fit into the river's sediment, and tugged. Surprise crossed Mizu’s face as she took in your smirk and tried not to fall in but, this time, you’d been the one to catch her unawares.

Mizu hit the water roughly and caused an enormous splash that had you caught in the crossfire, a wave of the cool liquid hitting your side; it was worth it.

“You… little…” Mizu said. The laughter you’d been trying to fight off yourself finally erupted, earning your teacher a glare.

“This is your lesson,” you said while catching your breath. “Never underestimate your opponent.”

Mizu didn’t say anything, blue eyes behind her shades locked onto your face. You weren’t sure what to make of it, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks under her gaze.

“What?” you asked, convinced she was actually upset with you. Then, to your dismay, she started to move toward you in the water, and, instinctively, you moved back. She continued her advance and just as your hand touched the bank, she closed the distance and pressed her body completely against yours. Your hands moved up her shoulders for balance. The blush you’d been building up fully bloomed, only inches separating your faces and nothing between your bodies. “Mizu?” You were a little breathless. What was happening?

She kept quiet and moved one hand to grab your wrist, pinning it to the edge of the riverbank softly. The mud painted abstract images along your skin, the grass tickled, and the water soaked deeper into your clothes with every second that ticked by. You could feel her breath on your face.

“Mizu,” you said again but softer.

Nothing again. You felt her other hand touch your hip and slowly ascend, flirting with the skin under your shirt, the side of your chest, all the way up to the base of your neck. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you leaned back a little to allow her more access… and she took it. Her calloused fingers spread, pressing her thumb and middle finger gently into the muscles on either side.

Mizu searched your face for any protest. You provided none.

Her grip tightened around your throat, enough for you to gasp, but in no way harmful. With such a hold on you, she tilted your head to the side.

“You.” She pressed her lips to your cheek. “Are such.” Your head leaned to the side for her to place her lips on the other one. “A pain.” You tested the waters, trying to move the hand she had a grip on, only to feel her reinforce it, pressing it harder into the mud. She straightened your face to see you fully, eyes flicking between your eyes and lips. “In the ass.”

You just smiled in response. So did she.

And then she kissed you.

It was deep, slow, and rhythmic, somewhat matching the flow of the river’s path. You sighed, a small moan leaving your lips and receiving the same in return. Nothing about this day had indicated this was how it was gonna go. Nothing at all. It was everything you didn’t know you had wanted and the feeling of her fingers tightening around your throat, digging into the skin in the most delicious of ways, drove you crazy.

She allowed your hand freedom, both of which found their way around her neck as she released her grip on yours—to your mild disappointment. Instead, she grabbed under your thighs and lifted, earning a surprised sound from you, and perched you on the riverbank.

“This okay?” she asked, voice husky, her eyes peering up at you now, a clear sight over her glasses that were covered in streaks of water. You nodded. Her fingers found the top of your soaked-through sweats and gave a tug. “This?” You nodded again and lifted your hips. She hooked her fingers over the top of them, also catching your underwear, and pulled them down to your ankles, which she lifted over her head so she could be between your thighs.

You didn’t know what to say.

“Are you going to listen if I ask you to lay back? Or are you going to be a brat about that too?” she asked and positioned your thighs over her shoulders. You looked down at her, unable to find the will to sass her in this moment, and did as she asked. “Good pet.”

A feeling fluttered in your stomach at that.

Without much effort, she lifted your legs, and dove between them, devouring you so deliciously that you gasped. Her arms nestled in the creases of your pelvis and her fingers dug into the skin of your thighs so rough they might bruise. Every stroke of her tongue over you felt hungry, greedy. Water droplets slid down your sensitive skin, a cool sensation that did nothing to quell the heat radiating off of you. Your fingers dug into the grass and threatened to pull each blade up from the root.

“Shit,” you gasped. The pleasure you felt building up was intoxicating and maddening. Any gripe you had with training today faded with every single second Mizu spent between your thighs. The sound of your voice only egged her on. Had you both been hiding this desire from each other for this long? A part of you regretted it, wondered if maybe you could have gotten to this place sooner, but you didn’t get the chance to finish that thought.

Your orgasm cascaded through you, a moan so loud you accidentally startled some birds in a nearby tree. Mizu didn’t let up though, holding onto you as though you were going to float away and you held onto one of her arms like she was an anchor to this plane of existence. She tasted every bit of you, tongue simply a tool to swallow everything. She peppered soft kisses on you, before ducking back down into the river, and appearing outside the cage of your legs. You felt her hands pull at your heavy, river-soaked sweats, and tugged them up, hips lifting very briefly, until you were decent again.

The evening sunbeams danced through the treetops. You heard the splash and dripping of water as Mizu finally pulled themselves out of the river and took a seat next to you. You sat there for a moment, still coming down from your orgasm, and felt the gentle reassurance of Mizu’s hand on your knee, thumb rubbing it.

“So,” Mizu said. You looked down at her, eyes on you as she cleaned her glasses. “The practice swords are gone and we’re both soaked. Probably, best we call it for the day.” A pang of disappointment hit your chest and she must have noticed it in your face, because continued, “But… I’ve got time tonight for some extra lessons. And some dry clothes you can use.”

Mizu smirked. You smiled and hoisted yourself up just enough to grab the front of her soaked shirt. She didn’t put up a fight at all, allowing you to tug her down with you into another passionate kiss, the taste of you on her tongue.

[xximpressions]

Hope (Chapter 4)

Kelly Severide x reader

Series Summary: Sometimes, we all need a little hope.

Chapter Summary: You visit Molly's

Word Count: 1,094

A/N: Shout out to @keabbs for just making my day and giving me the inspiration to write this chapter! :)

Previous | Next

Chicago Fire Masterlist

_____________________________________________________________

The evening was warm as the light summer air breezed by.

Dusk was just beginning to set while you walked the final steps towards the infamous bar.

Dressed a little more savvily than usual, you hesitated a few feet shy of the entrance.

Stopping in place, you bit your lip as you began to consider what might lay on the other side of the door. While those at 51 had seemed friendly at the firehouse the day before, a small part of you started to doubt if they had actually wanted to hang out with you off-shift as you got closer to the bar.

Giving a brief shake of your head as you allowed your anxieties to get the better of you, you turned in order to begin making the trek home.

Only, you ended up crashing right into someone’s chest as you did so.

“I am so sorry!” You instantly exclaimed as you helped to stabilize yourself and the other person.

Looking up once you were both steady, you found yourself stunned to be staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Lieutenant Severide!” You said with surprise.

Taking a necessary step back in order to give each of you some space, you continued by saying with a nervous chuckle,

“Please excuse me.”

Watching you with a smile, the Lieutenant’s tone was gentle as he responded with an easy shrug.

“All good.”

A small sense of tension began to build during the quiet moment in which you kept eye contact, and yet said nothing to one another. But that thankfully ended when the Squad leader pointed towards Molly’s and curiously asked,

“Are you heading in?”

Wanting to avoid his gaze as you realized you had been caught leaving early, you looked at the bar’s sign instead as you unconvincingly began to say in response,

“Well actually, I just remembered I have a lot of work to catch up on, so…”

But you trailed off once you’d returned your gaze to his and saw nothing but understanding in the depth of his eyes.

With a small but knowing smile, the man across from you asked with kindness,

“Getting cold feet, huh?”

Blinking once at his ability to read the situation for what it was, you allowed the sheepishness to show on your face since you could only nod in response to his question.

Recognizing this was probably an anxiety-induced decision, he reached out and placed one hand on your shoulder in order to turn you back around and said,

“C’mon. I got your back, remember?”

You huffed out a laugh and were immediately filled with encouragement as you recalled giving him your appreciation for that same exact thing yesterday. Sending a genuine smile in his direction, you replied with,

“Thanks Severide.”

“No problem.”

Was the response he gave as he walked you both up the steps.

However, he paused before opening the door. 

Looking back to you, he added,

“But I wouldn’t mind it if you called me ‘Kelly’.”

While this was said casually, it also had just a hint of shyness to it. You picked up on this only because you also noticed the hopeful expression on the Lieutenant’s face.

Since your own expression had lit up at his words, you couldn’t help but to reply in reciprocation.

“If that’s the case, then I must insist you call me by my first name as well.”

Wearing a content smile that was similar to your own, Kelly nodded and said,

“Deal.”

Then opened the door to allow you inside.

Once you crossed the threshold, you were immediately hit with the good vibes that emanated from within the bricked walls. It was like there was a coziness to the atmosphere that truly helped to create a sense of belonging throughout the place.

Your eyes were still taking in your surroundings when, after following in behind you, Kelly put one guiding hand on your shoulder and raised his other while calling out,

“Hey! Look who I found!”

And within an instant, those present from 51 all raised their drinks in celebration and let out warm cheers as they caught sight of you.

Surprised to receive such a welcome, you looked back at Severide with an astonished brow raised on your face only for him to give you a smirk back that said,

‘Told you so.’

He began to lead you through the crowd as you waved ‘hi’ to all the firefighters and paramedics you were familiar with while you made your way to the bar.

Upon giving your drink order to Herrman, you once again had to give your gratitude to the man standing beside you once he had ordered and definitively said,

“First round’s on me.”

With the unquestionable kindness being shown from the Squad Lieutenant, you couldn’t help but feel like you had finally made a friend in this city as he walked you over to a table full of people from 51.

From there, you socialized and mingled. 

You listened and spoke. 

You asked questions and had some asked in return! 

Simply put, you had many great conversations over the course of a few hours.

You were in the middle of one such conversation with Matt since he had asked what you planned to do once your contract was up, and you were currently giving him your answer.

“I have a few more firehouses to shadow for the CFD project, so this won’t be for a while, but I was thinking of getting my certification renewed to become a firefighter based here in Chicago.”

“Really?” Asked Casey with surprise from his position across the table.

“Really!” You replied with excitement. “After being out in the field yesterday, I realized I still have a hankering for it. So why not give it a try?” 

You rhetorically finished.

You got nods of understanding from everyone that was seated near you, but it was Kelly who vocalized his enthusiastic support from his place beside you. 

“I definitely say go for it.”

Looking his way as he continued, you watched as he said in earnest,

“There’s nothing better in this world than being a smoke-eater.”

Feeling a sense of camaraderie wash over, you picked up your glass as you said with pride,

“Y’know what? I’ll drink to that.”

And as those at the table followed your lead and shared a toast amongst themselves, you found that you were glad a certain someone had made sure you didn’t miss out on all the fun tonight. 

Previous | Next

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[shunin-gumis]

Mistery on the Moonlit Passage - Track EP

Seasonal Event Story

Case closed! Hope you enjoyed this silly event 🚢

Location: Cruise Liner - Sky Deck

Toi: Look, Ani-sama! HAMA’s port is sparkling! It’s so pretty…

Ryui: Yeah, but it’s nothing compared to the radiance of your existence itself. Is the sea breeze too cold? Here, put my jacket on.

Akuta: Yoo, I get it. Eating in a place like this just ups the vibes AND the flavor.

Chief: Yeah, this is a wonderful place. Thanks for telling us about it, Nanaki!

Nanaki: Nah, I just thought it’d be a waste to keep it to myself.

Nanaki: (Though, the original plan was to come here alone with the chief… Still, I’m glad I asked…!)

Kafka: Oho. The inside’s pretty rowdy too, but it’s a whole other level here ♪

Nanaki: Ah, Oguro-san.

Chief: Kafka, you’re back. How did your conversation with the owner go?

Kafka: I’ll share now since everyone’s gathered. You can keep eating while you listen, don’t worry.

Kafka: Just now, I proposed a plan called “Snoozing Cruising” to the owner of this ship, and it was very well received.

Yukikaze: Sleep and cruises. What an interesting combination.

Kafka: Guests will be able to experience something different from their everyday lives, and we plan on creating high quality relaxation using Netaro’s. A pretty fresh idea, no?

Yachiyo: Yesh…! The president is so smart! An dumb commoner such as myself with a mindset so fixed it’s practically immovable could never come up with an idea like this one!!!

Yodaka: I see. It may be a rather welcomed form of hospitality for the modern man, exhausted from their everyday lives.

Ryui: I’ll ask just in case, but you aren’t planning on using Yowa’s thing as it is, right?

Kafka: Of course. There was a good chance of everything turning into an even bigger incident if there had been even the slightest mistake. We can’t have something like this happening again.

Kafka: That’s why I plan on asking Netaro to write out a specifications sheet! Because right now, no one is safe, not even the robots.

Netaro: Nyoooo NYOOO!! Having to work overtime ‘cause of a doll meant to help me skip work…

Ryui: Serves you right. Repent for what you’ve done.

Nanaki: U… um, Ryui-san.

Ryui: Whaddya want?

Nanaki: Uh, well, about what happened before…

Ryui: (What…?)

~~~(flashback)

Ryui: …

Ryui: If that’s what you’ve gotta say, then just shut it and get out of my way.

Ryui: If you’re just gonna sit around and do jack shit, then nothing’s ever gonna change. By sticking to the same old crap, you’re just playing safe to avoid getting screwed over.

Nanaki: …But is it really such a bad thing…?

~~~(end flashback)

Location: Cruise Liner - Sky Deck

Ryui: …Hmph.

Nanaki: W-What is it?

Ryui: Nothin’. Just thought your face was finally looking better now.

Nanaki: …I… see. But, thank you.

Ryui: Not like I did anything worth being thanked for.

Muneuji: Speaking of which… as the key to solving this mystery was “music,” this makes Nanamegi the closest person to reaching the truth.

Chief: Really…! You sure gave it your all while we were fast asleep, Nanaki…!

Nanaki: Ah, um, I didn’t do that much… In the end, Yowa-san only spilled because Ryui-san interrogated him into it.

Yukikaze: That being said, you were the only one that noticed what everyone else brushed over. It’s evidence that you’re very mindful of your surroundings.

Muneuji: I agree. Nanamegi is a man who considers all the finer details.

Nanaki: Muneuji…

Muneuji: You’re always able to understand Isotake despite him speaking in sounds, you constantly encourage Kinugawa to speak up and express himself, and you always call out Uu-chan for being uncooperative…

Yukikaze: It’s wonderful how much you think of your friends. I’m proud.

Nanaki: T-That’s enough!! But thanks!!

Nanaki: (These guys are natural older brothers… It’s crazy how straightforward they are with their praises…!!)

Chief: But also… the more considerate a person is, the more likely they are to hold back from expressing their true feelings.

Nanaki: …!

Chief: Nanaki-kun, you don’t have to hold back with me. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind!

Nanaki: Ummm… Okay…

Yukikaze: Same for me, you cute and attentive little brother.

Nanaki: T-Thank you.

Nanaki: (...Though it’s not really out of consideration for others, but more because I don’t wanna get hurt…)

Nanaki: But… anything, huh?

Kafka: By the way… are we planning on heading back now to get some proper rest?

Nanaki: (I don’t have the courage to say it right now—)

Chief: W-We should…! Though most of us did end up getting a good sleep earlier…

Nanaki: (...Something like “Your sleeping face is beautiful, but in my opinion, a smile suits you the best.”)

Nanaki: I hope… I’ll be able to tell you one day.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Catch Me If You Can

Jojo: where tf u at? called u like 10 times.

Me: ik. call you back inna minute, dam. chill out.

Jojo: best watch yo mouth if u know was good for u.

Me: why Jo? Not like you can do shit bout it rn..

Jojo: where are you y/n?

Me: atta party..

Me:

Jojo: lil girl, swear to God. Quit fuckin playin with me. Drop ur location.

Jojo: right fuckin now.

Me: naw, I'm good.

Jojo: Ma, you playin wit fire rn..

Me: catch me if you can.

I slide my phone into the back pocket of my mini ass shorts with an amused chuckle before grabbing Marie and tugging her to the living room to dance. It's dim and humid but fuck if I give a damn bout that while me and my girl roll our hips to the beat. [ https://youtu.be/e5RUsVqX37Q?si=00j1_Xqfpqf5Ov7C]

Whole vibe got me sweatin my edges out as we grind through 3 more songs; it's a miracle that I even see the front door swing open as I'm caressin and windin my body to the beat:

Marie and I make it out the back door by the skin of our teeth, giggling as we run cross campus to the next party. It's pitch black and freezing cold out side, but neither of us care as we fly through the brisk breeze. My booty shorts don't do a damn thing to help contain my ass as it jiggles wildly with each step.

We're both wheezing and clutching our sides for air as we fly through the door and slam it shut. It's cracking in here; place is packed with bodies, booze and laughter. Led lights flash allover the room as the music booms, clearly signaling a more lively atmosphere than the last place.

"Y/n! Marie!" Andre beckons us from the corner of room, sitting with his arm slung around Cate's shoulders as he holds up a blunt.

We make our way over, Marie immediately sittin down criss cross on the floor and explaining our narrow escape from Jordan as Andre lights the blunt. Its dark in here too besides the bouncing lights; the air is smoky as fuck in this corner of the room. No way I woulda seen Dre if he aint call out to us.

He takes a few puffs before handing the blunt to Cate. She takes a soft inhale before givin it to me. Just what I need after all that excitement.

I sit, taking deep pulls from the blunt before passing it to Marie. Blowin out the smoke slowly I cant help dippin back into my seat and closin my eyes as I let the tree go to work. It's so easy to let their voices surround me as I tune out their words. The fuzzy, warm sensation wraps my body in a hug, the welcoming high foggin my brain as I recline and laze into the couch.

I'm so relaxed into my vibe that I barely feel Cate tap my naked knee. I turn my head to look at her slender frame leaned into Andre's side.

"You better not let them know we knew where you are; Jordan don't play that shit. Marie might be screwed already but I'm not takin one for the team on this one." Andre says facing Cate, letting her shotgun his hit.

I smirk and close my eyes again before respondin.

"Fine.. Pussy."

"Oh so you extra tough now right? Huh ma?"

Daddy's voice is a low snarl in my ear as my eyes snap open wide. It's comical how quick my cowardly friends scatter as Jordan comes around the back of the couch to stand in front of me.

"Hi, Jordan. See ya y/n/n!" Marie chirps before disappearing into the darkness.

"Don't forget to come say bye before you guys leave." Cate says, dragging Andre off in the same direction.

I'm dying to escape with em, specially wit how Jordans starin at me. Bae look like she on demon time and I'm not sure if I can take whats comin. Got me hesitant to speak knowin I completely got caught slippin.

"Baby," I start sickeningly sweet. "You're here! I'm so happy. Marie said-"

Jordan's hand flashes out like lightening to grip my neck and pull me close. The squeeze makes each shallow breath difficult but the dark stoic gaze piercing my fuckin soul keep me from movin an inch. I do nothing more than limply hold at her wrist while she steps closer to press us nose to nose.

"Tell me one goddamn word that came outta Moreau's mouth. Go head, I fuckin dare you. You're gonna be fuckin sorry y/n."

I don't think I've ever been so quick to shut the fuck up. The silence stretches for a few momemts, makes me uneasy and I'm sure Jordan knows this. Knows every fuckin thing about me, about my body.

"I went through alotta fuckin trouble to find you, so I dont give a fuck what anybody else thinks, thought or fuckin said."

She uses the grip on my neck to slowly pull me from the couch and put me on my knees, refusing to lose eye contact as the other hand unbuttons her jeans. Full lips upturned at the corner inna smirk, button nose flared.. I already know the plans going through that maniacal mind, know what's comin next. I don't know what's pounding harder: my heart or my cunt.

"You listenin to what everybody else fuckin said but which one of them are here to save you now y/n?"

The cold hard wood floor presses against my smooth brown skin as I shift nervously, watchin as Jordan smoothly transitions. Doesn't even bother to check if anyone's looking as he pulls out his rigid leaky dick and repeatedly taps it across my mouth. Daddy stares down at me lookin absolutely furious, his breathing startin to accerlerate as he makes a mess on my face.

So lengthy and so fuckin angry, tip flushed the prettiest and deepest of pinks. Thick clear strings of precum smear allover my bare heart shaped lips as he humps forward over and over, doin the same to my cheeks. He looks fuckin anguished from arousal, but still so goddamn pretty as he uses me.

"You know how long I've been like this? How much I needed you? But you wanna play fuckin games. What bout when you need Daddy? Don't I always give you what you want?"

I know his questions are rhetorical, that if I continue with my earlier attitude that this only gets worst. Still my pussy clenches rhythmically as I lean into his touch, knowin regardless off my permission he's about to pay me back for my insolence.

"Jo pleeeease." I whine, utterly shamed and hoping he'll take me back to his dorm. "Somebody's probably watchin, let's go to your room."

"Naw, fuck that. Tongue out." He spits at me.

I comply at the drop of a dime, drooling a bit as Jordan slides the tip of his dick in and out of my mouth. My hands lay limply in my lap as he holds the sides of my face. Head tipped back, dark chocolate eyes still observing the prey at his feet as he moans loudly into the air. I know his antics are purposeful, hoping that someone hears and stumbles upon my punishment.

"And somebody- mmmmm, ohfuck, just like that, princess- is watchin honey. Wouldn't you wanna see a little brat like you get put in their place?"

The fluids drip from his cock to my tongue steadily as he uses it as a slip and slide. I curl my wet pink muscle on every pull out tryin to get an extra taste.

Even when they're not bein nice, I just wanna please em. It would be a lie if I said I didn't test his nerves jus to end up like this: pussy drippin wet and at their mercy.

"Know what? Mmm, ooooh baby girl, just like that.. I think you're pretendin you don't like bein watched. Hooooh fuck, think we both know it was just a matter of time before you showed everyone how much you love my cock."

His pace speeds; mean words and assault on my mouth make my body heat and pussy clench. Wetness plasters my thick brown thighs as i squeeze them together repeatedly for just a hint a pressure. If I wasn't in so much trouble I'd see if I could get away secretly fingering my clit but getting caught wouldn't be worth it. Daddy's pissed and I'd be dumb to test that.

"Jesus christ, thas it. Ahhh, fuuu- so good, ma, so fuckin good! Shit, put that snappy lil mouth to good use. Daddy'll show you how to talk to me nice sweetheart."

Jordan slides further inside my wet warm cavern, the slight curve of him makin me gag as I try to relax and breathe deeply through my nose. His balls, sticky with my drool, play a game of hit and miss as they occasionally slap my chin. The hold on the sides of my face graduate to one of his big hands with a strong grip in my hair, keeping me in place.

"Fuckin best lil dick sucker I ever meeeet! Should came back to the room baby. Mm fuck, mighta showed you some fuckin mercy."

The rhythm of him fuckin my mouth is so erratic and desperate. Poor daddy seems a bit distressed as grunts and groans turn to sexy whiny moans. I wanna hold em in my arms from how he trembles from the intense nut he's about to bust. The way he tosses his head back with tightly shut lids makes me a bit sad I can't see the pleasure in his beautiful eyes.

"Dammit, I'm so close ma. Yeeees, ohfuck. Uhn uhhhhh.. Get ready, bout to fill that pretty lil throat up with some cream!"

I refuse to shut my eyes shut and miss the way Jordan stills his hips, continuing to use the grip in my freshly styled hair to fuck my mouth on his dick. My eyes tear up but I struggle to blink them back, hoping to not leave this situation so fuckin messy. I moan at the thought of them ruining me, throat already sore from his treatment.

"Ahhhh here it is pretty.. Haaaah sh- feels 'mazin y/nnnn. Take it, mmmmm ahfuck! Thas it. Fuuuuuck!"

I'm so ready when I get the first thick, heavy blast. Takes an extra swallow but I get it down before the 2cnd gush of cum can choke me. Still, Daddy's shootin like I ain't already take 3 of his loads this morning before class.

His nut leaks from the corners of my mouth as he pushes in more, givin me a shot straight down my throat. Jordan finally looks back down at me as I struggle around him. He looks so fuck yummy: forhead wrinkled and covered in a light perspiration, a dazed stare in his eyes as his chest heaves for air, and a small smile on his slightly agape plump pink lips. I'm sure if they could could they'd be starin down at me with hearts in their eyes right now.

I can't be more relieved when he slides his dick out, wiping the remaining cum off from his tip on my tongue before stuffing himself into his jeans. I savor a few gulps of air as he pulls me to my feet. Daddy kisses my mouth messily, smacking my ass sharply and tellin me to go say goodbye to our friends.

Yeah the fuck right, with sticky tracks of pre cum smeared allover my God damn face? I can barely contain my eye roll as I turn to walk away. Even if my juices are streamin out my pussy down my leg, ima make em work for their next nut. So I'm out. It's so fuckin easy to pretend to head their way before makin a break for the exit.

"Anybody that recorded that, if I see that shit online or anyone talks shit to my fuckin girl, it's up. Bet on that." Jordan threatens nearby party goers before transitioning, taking confident measured steps toward my hasty retreat.

A/N: The link provided at the beginning of the story is to a music video on YouTube; its the song I envisioned while writing the fic. It's not needed to read it, it's just a lil peek inside the authors head.

[asnowfern]

In Search of Cassian

Summary: Whereby Nesta combs the Night Court searching for Cassian with Rhys in tow. Set 10 years after ACOSF. Fluffy oneshot.

A/N: Based on the prompt from @acourtofwhatthefuck “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

I wanted to give it a completely different vibe and context from the original scene in the book. I hope I managed it. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

With her eyes closed, Nesta inhales and exhales deeply, focusing on the one thought. She does a mental scan of her external surroundings, acknowledging the distant chirps of birds flying overhead and the gentle breeze caressing her skin. She acknowledges and lets them go. Turning inward, she starts her scan from the top, relaxing the slight tension in her jaw and shoulders. She moves downwards to her core where she feels the shallow pool of silver fire linger. She pauses her scan halfway, sensing the imperceptible difference. She isolates and focuses on it.

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

She acknowledges and lets it go for the rest of her exercise.

Having completed her daily mind-stilling exercise, Nesta opens her eyes to the panoramic view of Velaris from the balcony of the House of Wind. She exhales and hoists herself off the floor. She needs to find Cassian.

She winnows to the training ring above the House where the females were training under Illana's watchful eyes, who nodded to her in deference. The Valkyries have come a long way in the ten years since Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie first sliced through the ribbon. Under Nesta's command, the Valkyries and the female Illyrian units charged alongside the Darkbringers and the main Illyrian force against the mortal queens and Koschei's forces. They came out bloodied and battered but victorious. Proving to the misogynistic males once and for all, the lethal warriors that they are.

Nesta overlooks the training for a good hour, giving pointers on their forms and techniques before bidding Illana good bye. Next, she winnows to the River House and almost instantly runs into Rhys. Rhys's nostrils flare slightly when he sees her but quickly schools his facial expression to an indifferent one.

"Nesta." He greets. Not one for small talk, she cuts to the chase,"Have you seen Cassian?"

"He came by this morning to drop off the reports on last week's security incident at the Day Court borders and left. He mentioned heading to Windhaven for routine checks." His face morphs into one of concern, "Is everything ok?"

"Fine." Nesta replies curtly, she bites back a sigh. "Guess I'm off to Windhaven then."

Rhys follows her, "I'll winnow you."

Having finally picked up the skill herself a while back, Nesta raises an arched brow. "I'm perfectly capable of going myself."

Rhys shrugs noncommittally, “My paperwork can wait an hour.” Nesta narrows her eyes but says nothing. She takes the arm Rhys offers and the duo blink out of the River House.

Nesta and Rhys walk towards Devlon who promptly cuts them off before a single word is out, “What are you doing here?”

“Is Cassian here?” Nesta asks in return.

"There have been reports of beast attacks in the Steppes. The Bast-“ Devlon pauses and corrects himself at the frosty glare Nesta sends his way, “The General went to check it out.”

Nesta levels an even stare at him until the war lord looks away in discomfort. She smirks, “Thanks.”

Devlon’s jaw ticks in annoyance and he spits out, “Witch.”

Nesta bares a white grin and croons, “Lieutenant General Witch.” Without saying another word, she turns around and walks away, Rhys following close behind. Once out of the war lord’s earshot, Nesta demands “Are you intending to follow me around all day?”

Rhys shoots her an amused look, “Am I not allowed to enjoy spending time with my sister?”

Nesta narrows her eyes suspiciously, “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” He says innocently, hands raised in surrender.

She shoves down a rude remark and asks instead, “Are we winnowing to the Steppes?” Rhys offers his arm in response. Once again, the duo vanishes out of sight and appears in the Illyrian Steppes. Nesta calls forth her magic and Ataraxia appears, clipped to the belt of her leathers.

The pair walks in comfortable silence for about half an hour when Nesta pipes up, “You’re awfully quiet for someone who wanted to spend time.”

The edges of Rhys’s mouth twitch. He drawls, “And how are you, dear sister?”

Nesta snorts. “I’m fi-” She stops as a sudden bout of dizziness hits her and sends her head spinning. She sways and is instantly supported by strong hands holding her upright. Rhys says gently, “Maybe we should just head back first. Cassian is bound to show back up by nightfall.”

She frowns, “I don’t want to wait until tonight.”

Rhys registers the familiar stubborn look he is so used to seeing in another pair of blue-gray eyes and sighs in resignation, “Let’s at least take a break.”

Nesta nods and promptly sets her ass on the ground. Rhys chuckles and settles next to her. He summons a flask and passes it to her. She takes it and nods in thanks before opening the flask, taking a long swig from it.

She blinks in surprise, not expecting the thick viscosity of the smoothie. “Do you usually make it a habit to have smoothies on hand?”

“Nyx loves them.” He shrugs.

“Better?” He asks after Nesta hands the empty flask back to him. She wordlessly nods but does not move from her spot, content to sit for a while more.

“Does it still scare you?” She asks softly. She offers no other explanation, knowing in her gut that he knows what she was asking.

“Yes, everyday” He admits, “It is so much worse now that he can winnow to wherever he wishes without me or Feyre.”

Nesta ponders the words quietly, unconsciously raising her arms to hug her abdomen. “How do you manage it?”

“By trusting Feyre or whoever is watching him to keep him safe. To trust that even at his age, he can defend himself." He says softly. "And to make it known the hell I'll bring to whoever who dares to harm him."

Nesta promises, "And I'll be right there with you." She smiles as she stands up.

After a little more walking, they stumbled upon a clearing with a mangled corpse of a winged beast. The pungent smell of blood and the beginnings of rot staining the air but beneath it was the unmistakable trace of Cassian's scent.

"Well, there's Cassian." Rhys remarks unhelpfully. Nesta shoots him a dirty look and groans in response, "But that also means he has left."

A loud screech suddenly interrupts them as a similar flying monstrosity which lies on the ground lunges for them from the sky. Nesta unsheathes her sword to strike but suddenly finds herself behind Rhys who raises a shield around them. Nesta bristles at the obstruction but has no time to rebut when the beast seemingly winnows out of sight and appears in front of her, talons striking out.

Nesta blocks with her sword and strikes back with her Made dagger that appears in her left hand but barely misses the beast. She swears when the beasts winnows towards Rhys who quickly dodges its attack and slices its leg. The creature screeches in pain but is undeterred.

"Nesta!" Rhys warns.

"I got it." She grounds out and is prepared the next time the beast winnows in front of her. She swings her sword, landing a shallow gash on the beast's chest. The beast once again shrieks in pain as it once again tries to winnow and fails. Its ability rendered useless by Ataraxia. Nesta's next blow cleanly removes the head from its body.

Nesta lets go of the sword and it vanishes before it hits the ground. She pants, feeling faint. Rhys is immediately next to her, his arm slightly supporting her back.

"C'mon. We should head back." He mutters. He snaps his fingers and the two corpses disappear. Nesta grimaces at her bloodied leathers and agrees. They winnow to the roof of the House of Wind. Nesta tilts her chin downwards in thanks and starts to make her way to her bedroom to wash up when Rhys offers, “Azriel is in Hewn City today. I could pop in to check with him if he knows where Cassian is.”

Nesta nocks her head sideways slightly in contemplation and concurs, her voice tinged with tiredness, “That would be helpful, thanks.”

Nesta pads her way out to the living room after her bath and asks for some soup and bread from the House. She does not think she can stomach anything heavier than that right now. Sending a grateful thanks to the house, she digs into the soup and is halfway through her lunch when Rhys enters the room.

“Lunch?” She offers and instantly, plates of stir fried vegetables and meat appear on the table. He sits down at the seat across her and helps himself to a serving.

“Cassian is in the library.” He informs her.

“Here?”

He nods, “He is researching the creature we encountered in the Steppes earlier. Its winnowing ability is…”

“Troubling” She finishes. He nods in agreement.

“Yeah, it is but that is a problem we can deal with later.” He reassures her. “I have told him we are up here so he should be back soon.”

Nesta swallows thickly, “Thank you. I know I gave you a rough time about it but I really appreciated the company.” She paused, “and the glamour.”

Rhys smiles softly, “Anytime, Nesta and congratulations. I am really, really happy for the both of you.”

The golden thread in Nesta’s chest brightens and warms just as they were done eating. Cassian bursts into the room and immediately rushes towards Nesta. “Are you alright?” He demands, scanning her for injuries.

“I’m fine. Rhys and I took care of it.” She quickly reassures him but lets him fuss all the same. Once satisfied that his mate is unharmed, Cassian turns to his High Lord to thank him but Rhys simply shrugs him off and quickly makes himself scarce. Nesta shoots him another appreciative glance before he leaves.

Nesta ushers Cassian to the sofa, her nerves building up. Cassian frowns at the apprehensiveness of his wife, “Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Lines of concern on his face deepens when Nesta says nothing. He cradles her face in his hands to look into her eyes and asks tenderly, “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

To her mortification, she feels the tears well up in her eyes at the tender tone as the morning catches up with her. She frantically raises her hands to wipe away the tears but Cassian is one step ahead of her, pressing gentle kisses to her cheeks. He engulfs her in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest while pressing his face into her hair. “Whatever it is, it’ll be ok.”

Nesta breathes in the comforting scent of smoke and petrichor, of Cassian. The bond between them hums happily even as Nesta feels the worry from his end. She takes in another deep breath of her husband and looks up. "I-I've been looking for you all morning. I have something to tell you." She announces, somewhat lamely.

Cassian waits patiently for her to continue, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Deciding to just let Cassian find out for himself, she removes the glamour Rhys placed on her earlier and waits.

Cassian's nostrils flare almost immediately. Nesta watches as the emotions flit through his eyes.

Worry. Apprehension. Realisation. Joy. Utter and complete joy and happiness.

Silver lines his waterline. "Are you?" He breathes, "You are…"

"Pregnant" Nesta finishes the sentence, her voice full of emotion. Cassian sweeps her into another huge hug.

"My perfect mate, wife, love of my life." He sighs and presses kitten kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her neck. "Mother of my child."

"You're happy?" Nesta asks, knowing in her heart that it was rhetorical but feeling the need to do so anyway.

"Yes. Completely. Absolutely. Totally. Impossibly." He accentuates every word with a kiss. "You make me so happy. Our child will make me so happy."

Nesta breaks out a watery smile. "You make me very happy too."

"Well then." He announced. "It just seems like we will just all have to be very happy together."

It seems like they will be very happy together indeed.

[happybird16]

•Chapter Five•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forest's edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: Horror vibes, myster, blood, gore, references to past child abuse.

Chapter length: 6.2k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Very excited to see your reactions to this!!!

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It's morning, you know that for a fact, but the forest is nearly pitch black. In the few short feet between the mountainside and the trees, the soft morning light had sparkled brightly off the snow. It had been nearly blinding.

But now nothing but darkness surrounds you. Luckily, the blizzard has stopped, at least for a bit judging by the forbidding clouds looming in the distance. However, the cold is unforgiving, and the biting wind cuts through your body with a sharp chill. Every breath feels like icy needles in your lungs. The leather of your gloves creaks in protest every time you wring your shivering hands for warmth.

You think it might be too cold to snow.

As you press forward against the powerful intermittent breeze, it threatens to knock you off balance with its force. Every step becomes a slow and arduous battle against the wind. Despite the unsettling conditions, you find yourself oddly grateful for the giant's repetitive visits. Its lumbering footsteps have inadvertently created a path through the snow, a winding trail that bears the imprint of its clumsy movements.

In your earlier years, prior to the birth of your brother, you had been taught how to hunt. Your father had always wanted a son, he'd told you as much repeatedly, and he'd put that pressure onto you. Under his relentless and often cruel gaze, you’d spent a significant portion of your youth in the safer woods on the opposite side of town, learning the skills of tracking, killing, and skinning. Nothing you did was ever good enough for him, as he constantly pushed you to meet his high expectations.

However, everything changed when your brother Gerard was born. Suddenly, your father's attention shifted entirely to him, and you were left to find your place and learn the tasks assigned to women alongside your mother. This abrupt abandonment brought both a sense of relief and a deep-seated ache within you.

Those memories are distant now. Long gone, fuzzy and buried somewhere in the depths of your mind. Trudging determinedly through the knee high snow, you struggle to recall even the littlest scene.

“I’m too weak,” you mumble morosely to yourself, tracing the tidy line of stitches along your sleeve. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you come to a realization. You simply can’t bring yourself to do it. The Naga may be a bit rough around the edges and more than a little bit curt, but he's kind. In his own way, he's kind. As terrible a person as you are, you can't hurt someone like that, not even for your own gain.

You don't know what you're going to do. Uncertainty hangs over your future. Without those scales, going back home is impossible. As long as the storm rages on, everything remains up in the air. In the midst of this uncertainty, you have made a decision to focus on the present moment and what you can do right now.

The loaf of bread you had brought won't last much longer, no matter how much you ration it, and it certainly won't work for your companion. You need something else. He's a predator, you should've realized that in the first place. His teeth and claws are clear enough evidence towards his diet. You need protein. You need meat.

In the low light, you strain your eyes to spot any signs of small creatures scuttling about, searching for loose patches of fur or even a trail of little footprints. A rabbit would be a welcome find, even if just for a short while. You find yourself hoping that Levi, the Naga, was telling the truth when he mentioned not eating much in the winter. While his human half may be roughly human-sized, albeit on the smaller side, his overall size is immense. Lithe and brimming with muscle, you can only imagine the amount of food he requires.

During your journey here, countless chipmunks and rabbits had been darting about in the underbrush. There had even been a handful of birds, mostly crows and ravens, staring down at you from the branches overhead. But now, there's nothing. The entire forest seems to have come to a standstill under the grip of the bitter cold.

Every step forward resounds as a loud crunch, your foot breaking through a thick layer of ice atop the snow. Surrounded by towering trees, you can’t help but feel small and isolated. It’s clear you can’t remain out here for long. The biting cold is already seeping through your thick coat, penetrating your skin. Hopefully, your scaly companion is still peacefully dozing when you return.

You yearn desperately for a bow or even your knife -wherever that disappeared to, you haven't seen it since Levi had threatened you with it. You vaguely recall how to set up traps, but that requires time and patience—luxuries you can’t afford. The longer you stay exposed out here, the more treacherous it becomes.

This is stupid, you know that, but what else is there to do. Levi.. Levi only seems to be getting weaker by the day. He's getting slower and slower, spending more and more time curled up in the corner asleep. It's too cold and only getting colder by the day. You don't know how long this storm is going to last but maybe.. maybe helping him will buy you more time. You can only hope.

Suddenly, a forceful gust of wind confronts you head-on, almost knocking you off balance. As you struggle to readjust your hood and cover your ears, something catches your attention. There, in the snow, is a trail of tiny footprints. They wander aimlessly before vanishing beneath the dense, leafless tangle of a thorn bush.

As you approach, the sound of your footsteps crunching against the snow, a sudden commotion breaks out nearby. Startled, a large, plump bunny with pristine white fur darts away with astonishing speed, vanishing into the shelter of a dense thicket. You identify it as a cranberry bush, its dark green leaves contrasting against the vibrant red berries still adorning its branches. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you realize that must be the bunny's chosen food source. It's a perfect opportunity.

Knowing that time is of the essence, you decide to set up a trap, hopeful that you can return later to check on it. Kneeling onto the cold snow, you swiftly assemble a small snare, ensuring it is discreet and strategically placed.

While you concentrate on your task, a loud crash resonates from a distance behind you. The noise echoes through the wintry landscape, accompanied by the distinct sound of branches snapping and snow crunching under pressure.

And then, just as suddenly, it happens again—an even louder cacophony that interrupts the serene surroundings and captures your attention.

As your shoulders tense up, a sense of unease washes over you, causing a prickling sensation to crawl along the back of your neck. Desperately hoping it's just the wind playing tricks on your senses, you can't shake the nagging feeling that something is amiss. Deep within the recesses of your mind, an instinctual alarm blares, urging you with every fiber of your being to resist the urge to turn around.

In the distance, a strange and dissonant sound reverberates, a peculiar blend between a whisper and a low growl. Above the howling wind, it carries a haunting quality, almost as if it's calling your name. The sensation of horror intensifies, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

With a mixture of dread and curiosity, against your better judgment, you finally gather the courage to look behind you. The sight that greets you is enough to freeze your blood. A row of yellowed teeth, large and uneven, looms before you, jutting out from a hidden presence that sends a jolt of terror through your entire being.

The entity before you is massive, towering on all fours at a height more than triple your own. It looms menacingly, contorted and deformed into a grotesque parody of a bear. Its appearance is a nightmarish amalgamation, with fur interrupted by patches of rough scales, and the gaps between them exuding a sickening black ooze that bubbles and festers.

A piercing scream tears from your throat as pure terror propels you forward, scrambling on your hands and knees. Panic consumes your every thought as you flee, driven by an instinct to escape at all costs. Snow flies in a flurry behind you as you sprint frantically through the forest, the thundering sounds of your own frantic footsteps drowned out by the horrifying growls that echo through the air. The creature pursues you relentlessly, its presence casting a twisted, elongated shadow that seems to warp and twist even in the darkness of the surrounding forest.

In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you propel your body forward, but before you can get far, the creature's hand clamps around your waist, its razor-sharp claws piercing your skin. Your voice cracks as you scream out, calling for Levi, hoping against hope for rescue.

The creature growls with a low, rumbling sound, a mockery of your terror. Lifting you effortlessly, it brings you to eye level, its distorted features contorting into a twisted smile. Its head is adorned with an unsettling abundance of eyes, reminiscent of an insect's multifaceted gaze. A warbling sound escapes its distorted mouth, and as its jaws open wide, row upon row of sharp teeth are revealed. It mimics your voice in a chilling echo, taunting you with the word, "Weeaak."

How long had it been following you?

The realization of the creature's prolonged pursuit sends a wave of horror coursing through your veins. The intensity of your fear fuels a surge of adrenaline, propelling you to lash out in a desperate attempt to defend yourself. With a guttural scream, your fingers claw into the uneven hide of its finger, digging in with all your might. In a moment of desperation, you manage to deliver a rough kick that grazes its snout, eliciting a snort of annoyance as it violently shakes its head, flinging you aside like a ragdoll.

The impact with the ground is jarring, leaving you dazed and disoriented. Half-buried in a large snow bank, you struggle to regain your bearings. With great effort, you manage to crawl a few feet forward, but your respite is short-lived as the creature's claws close around your left leg with a bone-chilling grip. A searing pain courses through your body as a sickening crack resonates from your foot, followed by the agonizing sensation of dagger-like talons, each one larger than your head, slicing mercilessly into your thigh. The sheer intensity of the pain is so overwhelming that the scream that escapes your throat is deafening, leaving you hoarse and breathless.

As darkness encroaches and your vision fades into a spotty abyss, a sense of suffocation washes over you, making it difficult to draw in a breath. The grip of the creature's strange, scaly and furry hand constricts around you with an unimaginable strength, causing your chest to strain and creak under its relentless pressure. Desperation sets in as your hands scramble and push against its enormous fingers, but your feeble attempts to fight back prove futile. Weakly, you manage to utter a profanity-laden plea through wheezing breaths, desperately denying the horrifying reality unfolding before you. “F-fuck,” you wheeze, “N-no. No!”

The creature's massive maw opens wide, unleashing a gust of warm, putrid breath saturated with the stench of decaying flesh. The revolting odor nearly overwhelms your senses, threatening to make you gag. With tears streaming down your face, you tightly squeeze your eyes shut, allowing sobs of despair to escape your trembling lips. In the depths of your heart, you know that this is the end. This is how you meet your demise.

In the midst of your despair and self-blame, the piercing cry of the creature breaks through the air. Its agonizing yowl reverberates in your ears, causing the world to spin and your senses to falter. With a jolt, the creature hurls you aside once more, and you find yourself landing face down in the cold, unforgiving snow bank.

Disoriented and shaken, you struggle to lift yourself up, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The abrupt turn of events leaves you wondering what could have caused the creature’s sudden distress. As the pain courses through your body, the burning sensation intensifies, leaving you writhing in agony. The echoes of the creature’s torment still reverberate in your ears, and amidst the chaos, you notice the sound of its whimpering retreat. Confusion fills your mind as you try to make sense of the sudden turn of events. Why did the creature leave? What just happened?

Struggling to regain your composure, you lift yourself up from the snow, wincing at the sharp pains that shoot through your limbs.

Fingers grip your shoulders from behind and you jolt, letting out a hoarse cry. It's back it's back it's back. The fingers dig in, softly urging you onto your back. Levi fills your vision. His mouth is moving, but you can't hear.

“Levi,” you breath, shoulders easing. Sinking heavily into the snow, your teeth begin to chatter. With your hazy vision, you manage to make out the shape his lips are forming. Your name, he's calling your name.

He's never done that before.

“You- you saved me,” you whimper, eyes fluttering heavily. Shivering, the cold has settled through your clothes, sticking wetly to your skin. “Levi I-”

“-could hear you screaming from the den. What the fuck are you doing out here?” Levi pauses, nose flaring and tongue flicking out. Suddenly sharp, his eyes drag along your half-buried form, “Is that blood I smell? Are you injured?”

“Rabbit,” you try to speak, mouth heavy. You point uselessly in what you think is the direction of your snare. “Wanted to get you food.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he snarks dryly. “Of course you managed to run into a Shifter.”

Shifter? Before you can ask what he means by that, a sudden and horrifying turn of events unfolds before your eyes. Claws, belonging to the bear-like creature, come into view, encircling Levi’s small waist with a vice-like grip. Your heart sinks as you witness the viciousness of the attack.

The claws dig deep into his flesh, rending his flesh and leaving trails of blood in their wake. With a violent throw, Levi is hurled forcefully into the distance, his body colliding with a tree. The sickening sound of impact echoes through the air as he falls to the ground, motionless, leaving behind a streak of red on the tree’s bark.

“Levi!” Desperation and anguish well up within you as you scream hoarsely, calling out to him. The bear-thing is back, dragging its way over you with one of its legs dangling limply behind. A chilling dark black trail follows in its wake, turning the pure white snow into a disgusting sludgy mess. Blood. Its blood is black.

The air hangs heavy with fear as the creature looms over you, its presence suffocating. Paralyzed with terror, you can only tremble uncontrollably. Its massive paws sink into the snow on either side of you, a chilling reminder of your helplessness.

Its face, devoid of thought or reason, contorts in a grotesque and shifting manner, causing a wave of discomfort to wash over you. The sight is almost unbearable, making your eyes ache and your skin crawl. Saliva drips from its open maw, splattering warm and sticky against your trembling form. The repulsive sensation sends shivers down your spine as the creature's tongue extends, yearning for a taste of its prey.

Feeling overwhelmed and cornered, you close your eyes tightly, seeking refuge from the horror before you. This is it. This is it. Dread fills your every fiber as you resign yourself to this terrifying fate. The weight of guilt presses upon you, knowing that your actions may have condemned Levi to his demise as well.

But then, a voice cuts through the darkness, shattering the suffocating silence. "Hey, ugly fuck." The creature's attention is swiftly diverted, and you instinctively turn your gaze towards the source of the voice. Levi rises, despite his injuries, rolling his shoulders with a determined air. His arm hangs limply at his side, evidence of the harsh impact with the tree. The sight of the deep gashes on his waist, painting his side with a rapidly spreading pool of crimson, fills you with both concern and awe.

Blood trickles from his forehead, obscuring his eye. With a casual wipe of his forehead, he inspects the bloody mess on his fingertips, emitting a low tsk of disapproval. "Is that all you got?" he taunts, his voice laced with defiance and a touch of dark humor.

The wounds on Levi’s side emit an otherworldly steam, the flesh bubbling and reforming right before your eyes. As he rolls his mangled shoulder, a grimace of discomfort crosses his face before it audibly cracks back into place. The memory of the older girl’s words resurfaces in your mind, her whisper echoing vividly: “Nagas heal fast.”

Forgetting about you, the creature surges toward him with an uneven gait, roaring loudly. With lightning speed, he lunges forward to meet it, coiling his serpentine body tightly around the WildOne. His tail loops up and over the creature’s shoulders, securing its waist in a vise-like grip. Emitting a snarl that resonates with primal fury, he tightens his muscular coils, squeezing the life out of the beast. The rows upon rows of his sinewy muscles lock firmly, constricting and compressing the creature’s chest. With each wheeze and shudder of its failing breath, it stumbles on unsteady feet, weakened under the overwhelming force of Levi’s constriction.

Within the constricting grip of Levi's tail, the monstrous creature undergoes a grotesque transformation. Its flesh bubbles and swells, morphing into a hideous form as an unexpected limb sprouts from its shoulder. A wing emerges, black and sludgy, taking shape with feathers unfurling before your bewildered eyes. The wing flutters in a frantic and unnatural manner, its emergence accompanied by the audible cracking of the creature's ribs.

Levi's earlier words about Shifters now make perfect sense. This abomination is a shape-shifter, capable of assuming different forms. The creature writhes helplessly within the vice-like hold of Levi's coils, its bones audibly snapping and breaking with each agonizing twist. And then, with a sickening wet gurgle, it collapses, crashing onto the snow-covered ground, causing the earth beneath to tremble. The once formidable beast is now defeated.

“Why-” you wheeze as Levi quickly slithers to your side. “Why did you-” Why did you save me?

“Shut up,” he shushes you, tone soft despite the wording. Fingers digging into your shoulder blades, he urges you up. “We need to go. I don't have much longer out here and we don't want that things mother to discover us.”

“Coat-” you start with a wince, “you're not wearing your coat.”

“I was in too much of a hurry to grab it,” he explains distractedly. He's already shivering, lips tinting visibly blue. His tail curls behind you, helping to urge you upward, “Come on, up up up!”

“The-” you struggle, managing to your feet before your vision spots with black. “The shifter -why was it like that?”

“It was just a baby,” he explains, pressing to your side and wrapping an arm across your shoulder. He's warm. You shiver into his heat. “Shifters can only turn into the things they've consumed and it was still sloppy at even that.”

“A baby,” you repeat deliriously. Your leg is hot, for some reason. Everything else is ice cold, but your leg feels like it's on fire. Glancing down, your vision only finds pure, bright red. Blood. “I'm bleeding,” you mutter dumbly, staring down at the torn mess of your left thigh.

Three deep slashes mar your upper leg, starting from the inner thigh and gradually becoming more shallow towards the knee. The entire area is drenched in sticky, warm blood, saturating your leg and even seeping into your socks. Overwhelmed by the gruesome scene, a nauseating sensation engulfs you, threatening to make you sick. “I think I'm going to throw up.”

Levi’s expression turns grave, his jaw tightening. “Try not to look at it. We have to hurry,” Levi urges, pressing against your back. “Come on, walk with me. Stay with me, focus on staying conscious-”

Levi's urgent voice echoes in your fading awareness, urging you to keep moving despite the excruciating pain. With his support, you manage to take a step forward, but the intensity of the agony overwhelms you. Your vision blurs, and the edges darken as your body gives in to the strain.

Collapsing heavily against Levi's side, consciousness slips away, engulfed by the encompassing darkness. Time becomes elusive, and you drift in and out of awareness, caught between fleeting moments of consciousness and the depths of unconsciousness. Sensations pierce through the haze intermittently—aching pain, bone-chilling cold, and the unmistakable crunch of snow underfoot.

Through the fog, you catch fragments of Levi's voice, his curses ringing close to your ear. His hands apply pressure to your injured body, their sharp nails grazing your skin. You sense the shifting motion, the dragging sensation that signifies you are being moved, but your mind struggles to grasp the details.

In this liminal state between consciousness and oblivion, you cling to the thread of awareness, relying on Levi's strength and determination to guide you through the treacherous darkness.

As your consciousness returns, you find yourself within the familiar confines of Levi's nest, the comforting surroundings offering a momentary respite from the harrowing ordeal. Moaning in pain, you become acutely aware of the throbbing sensation radiating from your injured leg.

“You’re awake,” Levi's voice rumbles from where the fire is roaring behind you. His deep voice breaks through the haze, his presence assuring you of some semblance of safety. You turn towards the sound, catching sight of him feeding a log into the roaring fire. The flames dance and crackle, casting a warm and flickering glow throughout the cave. It's a larger fire than you've ever seen before, its intensity seemingly reflecting the urgency of your return.

“Hurts-” you manage with a soft whine. It's the worst pain you've ever felt in your life. You're too afraid to move and make it worse. “‘s bad.”

“You're soaked to the bone from the snow,” Levi clicks his tongue. “Need to get you out of those clothes so I can check your wounds.” It feels like he's mostly talking to himself, which might be for the best since you don't have the strength to talk.

Pressing to your side, he quickly pulls your top over your head. Your bra follows and he immediately buries your upper half beneath several pelts. Your boots come off next, first your right then your left. The latter is blindingly painful, your foot swollen and purplish. You hiss loudly, moaning in pain.

Sharp nails tear carefully into your trousers, separating the material from your wounded skin. The cloth has to be carefully peeled away from your upper thigh. Every bit of cloth pulled away is unbearably painful. “Shit,” his eyes widen as he stares in horror at the mess of your thigh, “That's not good.”

“‘s not?” you ask. God, you're dizzy even laying down. Raising your head, you strain to look. You only catch a glimpse of it, flesh torn open wide. Bloody and raw, portions of your thigh are dangling free in scraggly bits. Dazed, you watch blood leak lazily down your thigh in a thick rivulet before Levi urges your head back down. “-ow much blood have I lost?”

“Don't look,” he urges, pressing your shoulders down. The next thing you know, something wet is lapping softly at the wounds. Urgent and meticulous, it swipes warm against the edges of your open wound.

You look down and scream. Levi is lapping at your wound, licking up the blood.

He's eating you. He's eating you. He's eating you.

You panic, whimpering weakly and frantically trying to push him away. Kicking at him with your good leg, a solid and terrifyingly strong grip locks tight around your calf. Your mouth runs, but you can't hear yourself in your panic.

“Relax. I'm not eating you,” Levi tells you calmly. The tight grip on your calf remains, pressing the limb down into the bedding. His mouth is shiny and red with your blood. It practically drips from his chin. As he speaks, you see nothing but the dark red smeared along his teeth. “Naga saliva heals.”

Oh. It's a struggle to process what he means, the pain making your vision swim and your mind slow. The slide of his tongue against your broken skin hurts. It burns red hot, like being jabbed with a red hot iron.

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You scream, mind sinking into darkness yet again.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” fingers press urgently to your face, swiping the soft skin beneath your eyes. Your name. Levi calls you your name again. “Open your eyes. Come on.”

Warm. You feel unusually warm. Delirious, you can't remember where you are. A forehead presses to your own, followed by a soft curse.

“Not again. This can't be happening again,” Levi mutters frantically above you. Something presses urgently to your lips. Warm and soft, they press into you, urging you to open up. Lips. They're lips. A palm cups the back of your head, oddly sticky, angling your neck to deepen the lip lock. A tongue presses through, sliding warm against your own. Fingers wrap around your neck, the thumb working circles into the column of your throat. “Swallow,” Levi urges you, voice desperate. “Come on, swallow.” His lips press to yours again.

“Mhmm,” you moan softly into the lip lock, eyes fluttering open. At his urging, the soft press of his thumb, you swallow thick. Iron. It tastes of iron. Your blood.

Darkness greets you yet again.

When you blink awake next, his chest is planted flat to your own. Hovering above you as if to shield you from the world, Levi starts the moment your eyes flutter open by calling your name softly, ”How are you feeling?”

Something shifts beneath you and you realize that you're resting tucked within the coils of his tail. The dark black scales are surprisingly soft, warm with almost a silk-like texture. “I-” you shift before yelping in pain. Pinching your eyes tight, you fight to keep the world from spinning yet again. You suck air between your teeth in a sharp hiss, “It hurts.”

“Don't move too much,” Levi frowns, chastising you softly. “I only just managed to seal the cuts.”

Seal them? If you had the energy, your eyebrows would raise incredulously. The deepest parts had probably grazed bone. “Why- why are you-”

Why are you helping me?

Other than the sharp ache in your leg, every part of you feels heavy and numb. It's as if your limbs suddenly weigh a thousand pounds, and a distant and fuzzy sensation envelops you. The tight cocoon of Levi's tail provides a cozy and comforting embrace, and the rhythm of his chest against yours is soothingly warm. Your eyelids grow heavy, inviting sleep.

"Shh," Levi urges softly, his sharp nails scraping gently along your shoulders. "Sleep if you want. I'll keep an eye on your wounds."

As you drift, you catch sight of your left foot, carefully protruding from Levi's protective coil. The sight evokes a quivering lip and a sob rising in your throat. It's a deep, ominous shade of purple, swollen and puffy. Your attempts to move your toes yield limited results. "My foot," you mournfully sob.

Levi shifts, shielding the sight with his shoulders. "It already looks better than before," he reassures you earnestly.

"Can't walk like this," you express your worry with a heavy swallow. "The storm is going to end, and I... I..."

"Don't worry about that," Levi interjects, his eyes widening.

"I have to go. Y-you said-"

"You can stay!" He interrupts again, his nails gently grazing your shoulders. "You can stay here as long as you need to heal. I'm only going to be here until spring, but my scent should stick to the cave and keep you safe enough."

Your lip wobbles as you express your concerns, "H-how am I supposed to get around like this? My mission... I-"

"Fuck that old man's rash. Once you're better, I'll escort you back home," Levi offers hastily. "I saw you get tossed, do you have any more injuries?"

His fingers press into your shoulders as his tail carefully flips you over. The realization hits you that you're naked. Underneath the layers of muscle and scales, there's nothing but bare skin. "No, no, no," you mutter repeatedly, fast and delirious. Fear surges through you, worrying that he'll see, he'll see.

Scars. Your back is covered in scars. You can tell the moment he sees them. Levi's breath hitches as his gaze falls upon the scars covering your back. A mix of shock, rage, and dread taints his voice as he asks, "Who did this to you?"

Your face remains buried in the soft deer pelt as your lips brush against the hide. Speaking slowly and with effort, your words carry the weight of the past, "Deserved it... was bad."

His fingers trace along your shoulder and down your spine, following the silvery lines etched by old wounds. "Some of these are really old," he observes, his voice filled with concern. "You were whipped. Did your parents do this?"

You nod in a daze, your mind clouded and thoughts scattered. "Can't go back," you repeat, your words slurring.

"They hurt you?" Levi's voice carries a mix of anger and concern. "Did you run away?"

You repeat your statement, emphasizing your inability to return home. The weight of your circumstances hangs heavy in the air.

Levi's fingers continue their gentle exploration along your spine as he responds, his voice filled with care and hesitation, "You don't have to... I-"

Not even registering his words, you continue to mumble, "Scales. Need the scales."

Time seems to stand still as the weight of your words sinks in. "What?" Levi's voice slices through the air, filled with shock and urgency. He spins you around to face him, disregarding any discomfort it causes you. His voice drops to a chilling whisper, colder than the harsh winter winds outside. His tail quivers around you, his gaze piercing and intense. "What did you just say?"

Your head hangs limply to the side, barely able to muster a response. The words escape your lips in a feeble, desperate tone, "Need the scales... Need luck."

Levi surges forward, looming in your face with a solid hiss. The enormous length of his tail rises, coiling terrifyingly behind his head. You get the sense that if he had a rattle, it's sound would be filling the air in an outright threat. “I fucking knew it,” he spits, eyes flaring red. “You're just like them.”

Levi's sudden aggression and the menacing display of his tail leave you paralyzed with fear. His face looms inches away from yours, his words dripping with venom. The scales around you tighten, constricting painfully as they exert their immense strength. You wince, feeling your ribs protest with a sickening creak. Trying to defend yourself, you stammer, "N-no, I-"

Levi straightens up, his imposing figure casting a dark shadow over you. The black scales writhe around him, intensifying the air of menace. His voice cuts through the silence, filled with disdain, "You're just like all the other humans. Greedy, horrid pigs who only want to take and exploit."

The weight of his accusations crushes down on you, and you struggle to find words amidst the fear and confusion. The pain intensifies, jolting you into a state of heightened awareness. Panic grips you as you realize the gravity of your accidental confession. Desperate to make Levi understand, you plead, "Please, listen-"

But before you can finish your sentence, Levi forcefully propels you towards the cave entrance. His voice is filled with anger and frustration as he shouts, "Go! Get out of here. I don't want to see you again."

Tears well up in your eyes as you whimper, "I can't... I can't move." Your broken and heavy limbs render you completely immobile, trapped in your own helpless state.

His lips thin and his jaw clenches with anger, the tension in the air palpable. He forcefully slides you forward until your back meets the cold stone of the entrance. "Then I'll throw you out in the snow! The giant will finally get his midnight snack."

With your hands pinned to your sides, you struggle against his grip, desperately trying to free yourself. "Please, let me explain!" you plead, your voice filled with urgency.

"Why?" he hisses, his fangs bared and gleaming in the flickering firelight. "Why should I? So you can continue to lie to me? To deceive and manipulate me?"

You feel a pang of guilt and frustration, realizing the depth of his mistrust. “No, it’s not like that,” you insist, your voice quivering. The pain in your thigh intensifies, reminding you of your desperate situation. “Please, no,” you plead, your voice filled with desperation. “Levi, don’t do this!”

“I trusted you!” he shouts, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. “I thought you were kind! Cute, even.” His nostrils flare as he catches the scent of your fresh blood, and his tongue darts out to taste it. “You humans are so blinded by greed that you forget how weak you really are.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words. “I’m not like them,” you gasp, your voice choked with emotion. You try to shout, but the words end up more of a hoarse wheeze, “If I go back empty-handed, they’ll kill me!”

He pauses, tail loosening slightly. His head cocks to the side in silent askance, his eyes softening with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Rushing to explain, your words come out quiet and fast, “People kept dying around me! They called me a witch! A monster! I was declared bad luck and exiled. I can only go back if I bring Naga scales.”

He blinks slowly and double lidded, teeth bared, “And I was just -what- a convenient find?”

Chest heaving against the muscles binding you, you yell with the last of your strength, “I don't want your scales! I don't want to go back! There's nothing to go back to! I don't even remember what the color of your scales mean. I spent how many hours in your presence and I never even tried anything!”

Levi’s snarl intensifies, his face contorting with anger. His muscles ripple with tension as he forcefully guides you towards the mouth of the cave. He growls, his voice laced with accusation, “I caught you watching me, staring at me-”

Feeling defeated and powerless, you lie there, a heavy and lifeless weight, allowing him to push you across the frigid stone. The cold snow seeps into the back of your head, amplifying the bleakness of the situation. Your lip trembles as you summon the courage to speak, “It was a death sentence. I knew that from the moment they threw me in a cage. They never expected me to come back anyway.” Admitting the harsh truth out loud for the first time feels both liberating and terrifying.

The atmosphere is heavy with silence as Levi processes your words. His snarl gradually subsides, replaced by a mixture of surprise and contemplation. The tension in his muscles eases slightly, though his grip remains firm. His gaze softens with a hint of understanding, and a glimmer of empathy shines through his eyes.

Levi's voice trembles as he speaks, his eyes still closed, his face etched with a mix of sorrow and empathy. "Cage?" he whispers, barely audible, as if the weight of those words crushes him. His back muscles twitch and convulse, visibly displaying the pain and anger building within him.

His eyes reopen, filled with profound sadness. His voice sounds small and distant. "They kept you in a cage?"

For several moments, his eyes look distant, dark, and lost. All of his anger fades like a flick of a switch, his shoulders sagging. With a loud huff, you're pulled back into the cave and onto the bedding. "Fine." Levi slides back to you, pressing his chest against yours. "I trust you."

Teeth chattering and heart still throbbing, you rush to apologize, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for lying! I'm sorry for-"

"Go to sleep," he urges you softly, his tail wrapping comfortably tight around you once more. "You apologize too much." Feeling chilly, you bury your nose into his chest, seeking warmth.

You must have muttered that out loud because he responds, "That's because your skin is still like ice." Your body aches, and darkness begins to creep into your vision once again. His soft rumble is the last thing you hear, "By the way, black means strength."

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Falling For Your Fools Gold: Chapter 9

A/N: I have to say, this was one of my favorite chapters to write for this fic! It was just so fun, and truly felt like pirates vibes through and through. So, I hope everyone enjoys! :) TW: implied human trafficking and violence/murder/blood

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta’s head pounds, a steady beat that throbs from her temples all the way to the back of her skull. She swears she can feel the thrum of it all the way down to her toes, in the tips of her fingers. Her whole body seems to ache, deep in the muscles, leaving her limbs feeling heavy. Between the pain and the way her stomach seems to lurch every other second, Nesta fears that she’s going to be sick.

She tries to focus on her surroundings, to catalog everything. It takes her a moment too long to recognize the rock of a ship beneath her. When did she get aboard again? She can’t remember returning to the docks and the ship. And yet, she can practically taste the sea air on her tongue, the salty quality to it. But there’s something different about it, something that doesn’t hold that familiarity, that grounding ability of the sea breeze she’s grown used to. It’s more damp somehow, the way it settles across her skin, almost foul.

Slowly, carefully, Nesta flexes her fingers, but it’s not the soft blankets that cover the bed in the captain’s cabin she expects beneath her, it’s wood. With a soft groan, she tries to sit up, but her stomach gives another betraying lurch. She scrabbles for purchase with her hand, desperate to steady herself, her other hand grasping at her still pounding head. She tries to breathe through the pain, through the onslaught of sickness, but that foul stench seems to become more potent with every inhale, cloying over her skin and settling like a bad taste at the back of her throat.

She blinks open her eyes, bracing and preparing for cutting sunlight, but all she’s greeted by is cold, damp darkness. It takes a few more blinks for her eyes to fully adjust. She takes in the oil lantern hanging from the ceiling a few feet away from her, the barrels stacked and pressed up against the far wall. But most importantly, she takes in the metal bars surrounding her.

A brig.

She’s in the brig of a ship.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Nesta snaps her attention to the right. Cresseida is curled up on the floor, Emerie’s head cradled in her lap, the bookstore owner still unconscious. Cresseida already has a bruise forming on her cheek, a scab on her bottom lip proof of it being split earlier. It’s a stark reminder of what happened, of the way she fought back. All of the memories of the men in the alleyway flood back to the front of Nesta’s mind, and this time when her stomach lurches, it has nothing to do with the rocking of the ship they’re on. Instinctually, her hand flies to her belt, to her sword there—

“They already took it,” Cresseida offers quietly, her tone almost defeated. She runs a hand through Emerie’s hair, though who exactly the gesture is meant to soothe, Nesta isn’t sure.

Nesta swallows hard, needing another moment before she finds her voice again. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. You all were unconscious when they brought you in,” another voice answers.

Nesta turns to the left, surprised to find another woman in the brig with them. Her red hair hangs around her shoulders and face, almost obscuring a pair of teal eyes and freckled cheeks. She has her knees curled up to her chest, but she raises her head enough to offer Nesta a small, tentative smile.

“I’m Gwyn,” the woman tells them.

“How long have you been here?” Cresseida asks, her eyes dancing around their surroundings. “Wherever here is.”

“A couple of days I think? It’s hard to tell. I mostly use whenever someone throws me some bread down here as an indicator.”

“Any idea where they’re taking us?” Nesta dares to ask, a question she’s sure is weighing on them all.

“Nowhere good,” Emerie answers, finally awake and pushing up from Cresseida’s lap to sit up properly. “I’ve heard stories about men like these, taking women to Ironcrest to be sold.”

“Sold?” Gwyn whispers, her voice small and horrified.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Nesta assures them, looking around at the women here with her. “I’m going to get us out of this.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Cresseida asks, raising an expectant eyebrow and looking pointedly down at Nesta’s empty belt, at the sword now missing there.

Nesta can’t help her smirk. She lifts her skirts up and reaches down into her boot, her fingers curling around the cool hilt of her dagger. Using the obvious to keep what’s hidden worked. Perhaps, she’ll have to thank Cassian for that advice after all. If she ever gets to see the pirate captain again. Even if they make it out of this, Nesta has no idea how she’d ever be able to find him and his crew, how she’d navigate back to Windhaven or wherever they may be.

But she can’t worry about that right now.

Nesta pulls her dagger free, brandishing it for the other women to see. She staggers up to her feet and walks over to the door of their cell, reaching a hand outside the bars until she finds the iron of the lock. She frowns as she feels around, trying to get an understanding of the mechanism.

“Give me one of the pins from your hair,” Emerie speaks up from behind Nesta, having gotten to her feet as well.

Nesta nods, reaching up into her hair and pulling the pins out. Her braid untwists and falls down her back, but she hands over the pins and her dagger to Emerie. Emerie steps forward and reaches around to the lock. It takes a few moments of her fiddling, but then the distinct sound of the lock giving way echoes through the space around them.

Nesta pushes open the door, careful to not make too much noise. “I’ll go first to make sure it’s clear, okay?”

When the other women nod their understanding, Nesta takes her dagger back from Emerie. She steps completely out of the cell and makes her way toward the door to the room the brig is in. She pauses, pressing her ear to the wood and listening for any hint of someone on the other side. As the seconds tick by with no sound that Nesta can hear, she pulls the door open enough for her to peek out.

She spots a man sitting atop a barrel further down from the door, and with a quiet gasp she pulls back and out of sight again. She holds her breath, waiting for the sound of footsteps, of shouts, but they never come, just the drip of water from the ceiling and the slosh of the waves against the hull. Tentatively, Nesta leans back out the door again, noticing the man’s back is to her, still blissfully unaware of her presence.

Nesta opens the door wider, taking a small step outside and then another. Every step closer has her heart thundering between her ribs, her chest starting to heave with every deep breath she tries to squeeze through her lungs. She readjusts her grip on her dagger, flexing and unflexing her fingers and praying it doesn’t fall to the ground thanks to her sweaty palm.

A heavy lurch of the ship has Nesta losing her balance and sends her stumbling into the wall. She’s unable to hold in her surprised grunt at being jostled, and the man’s head snaps around at the sound. A moment passes where the two just stare at each other, the man frowning, but then he’s jumping to his feet.

“What the fuck?” the man declares, already reaching toward the sword hanging from his belt. “How did you get out here?”

It’s now or never Nesta realizes.

She rushes forward, her momentum causing her and the man to tumble toward the ground before he can pull his sword from the scabbard. The advantage doesn’t last for long, though. The man certainly has size on his side, and he overpowers Nesta quickly, pinning her down against the wood. Nesta squirms and writhes until she’s able to get a hand free. She uses the heel of her now free hand and drives it straight up against the man’s nose until she feels a distinct crunch, until blood starts to drip down and onto her cheek.

The man howls in pain, rearing back from her. It gives Nesta the chance to roll away and hop back to her feet. The man finally lifts his head again to meet her gaze, and the rage burning across his expression is clear. He clambers to his own feet, lunging toward Nesta, but she’s quicker, dodging under his outstretched arms and landing a punch to his side.

The man stumbles from the blow, his face shifting from anger to bewilderment. “You’re a woman. Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta snaps, bending low enough that she can sweep the man’s feet out from under him.

The man’s hand fists into the skirts of Nesta’s dress, taking her down with him, but this time, she falls on top of him, both of her hands free. She brings her dagger to the man’s neck, pressing it firmly in both a threat and a promise. It does the trick, keeping him pinned to the ground. His eyes drop down to where the metal is poised against his skin, brows furrowing and jaw slackening like he can’t believe what’s happening, can’t quite comprehend this turn of events. The expression has sick satisfaction curling deep in Nesta’s gut.

“Didn’t you know?” Nesta asks innocently, a smirk tugging across her face. “There’s no such thing as a fair fight, especially with a pirate.”

Nesta pulls back her hand and the dagger just long enough that she can gain momentum, slicing the blade across the man’s throat in a thick, deep line. Blood pours from the wound, pooling beneath the man and seeping into the wood, while he splutters and chokes. And then the man stops moving all together, his eyes open and unseeing.

Nesta’s chest heaves with the exertion of the fight, with the adrenaline. She scrambles off of the man and back to her feet. She waits for the dread to sink in, expects uneasiness at what just occurred to roil her stomach, for her hands to start shaking, but it never comes. Instead, she just feels strong, feels powerful. She thinks back to those times growing up in Adriata, thinks back to the balls and to Tomas, back to all those times she felt weak, but not anymore. She’ll never feel weak again.

She wipes her dagger blade off on her skirts before sliding it back into her boot. She reaches down and pulls free the sword from the now dead man’s scabbard. When she straightens up again, Emerie, Cresseida, and Gwyn are standing in the open doorway leading back into the brig.

“Come on,” Nesta calls to them, gesturing forward with her head.

Nesta keeps the sword raised, poised and ready for any other men they might encounter. They continue down the makeshift hallway and up the ladder to the next level of the ship. It’s there that they run into more of this ship’s crew. Nesta is quick to slice down as many as she can, but Emerie and Cresseida quickly grab the discarded swords to join in.

They fight their way up to the deck, the early dawn light bouncing in golden rays off the black sails pulled taut in the sea breeze overhead. It gives Nesta pause for a moment, the pink and yellow sky, the sun beginning its rise above the horizon. Clearly, she’d been unconscious longer than she realized. How far had they sailed?

The glint of the sun off metal catches Nesta’s attention out of the corner of her eye, drawing her back to reality. She raises her sword just in time for it to clash against another, the clang of metal on metal reverberating all the way down her arm. She turns and shifts her stance, prepared to face off in yet another fight, but her attention is drawn away again, this time by a ship.

A familiar ship.

Pulling up right alongside the current ship she’s on.

A rallying shout echoes out across the waves and morning air, the chaos across the deck skittering to a halt. All eyes turn in the direction of the shout, just in time to watch men swinging across the space between the two ships. Cassian lands firmly on the railing beside Nesta. The sea air ruffles the curls of his hair across his shoulders, the morning light catching on the dark strands and leaving them almost glowing. His eyes burn golden, and when that gaze finds Nesta’s face, that cocksure smirk of his tugs up the left side of his lips. He hops down onto the deck, pulling his sword free with casual ease.

“Miss me, princess?”

Nesta scowls at the dramatics. “What are you doing here?”

“Most would call this rescuing you,” Cassian tells her, turning to take care of the man who’s taken to openly gaping rather than continuing to fight, cutting him down effortlessly.

“I wouldn’t,” Nesta shoots back dryly. “In fact, I had this perfectly under control before you arrived.”

Another man lunges toward them, sword at the ready, and just to prove her point, Nesta steps forward before Cassian can. She disarms the man with a flick of her wrist, swinging her sword in a wide arching motion that slices clean across the man’s chest. He goes stumbling back and falls onto the deck, and Nesta turns back to Cassian, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cassian drawls sarcastically. “Should I just take my ship and leave then?”

“Yes,” Nesta seethes, stepping closer to him and baring her teeth.

“And what exactly was your plan after you finished with the crew? Unless you’ve been secretly harboring sailing skills this whole time.”

An awkward throat clear has both their heads snapping in that direction, Baz standing there with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. We uh… we identified the captain of this crew.”

With a nod, Baz turns to walk away, Cassian following behind him. Nesta gives herself a moment to take a steadying breath before following behind them both, glad that Cassian has his back turned to her. Somehow the pirate captain has always been able to read her the way no one else ever has, and Nesta knows that if he had time to study her face closer, he’d see the relief hiding beneath the annoyance there. She still can’t believe that he came for her. There’s certainly no real ties between them, no reason for him not to just sail off without her, continue his business as normal just as he had before raiding Nesta’s father’s ship, but here Cassian and his crew stand.

Cassian and Baz come to a stop near the quarter deck, but to Nesta’s surprise, they both turn back to look at her expectantly. It’s an offering. She continues forward until she is standing in front of a man on his knees, his hands tied behind his back by Cormac. His black hair is haphazard around his face, but it’s his hateful, black eyes that have Nesta’s own anger simmering and rising back to the surface to meet it. She straightens her spine and looks down her nose at this man with cool disdain.

“So you’re the captain that thinks you can just snatch women and sell them?” Nesta demands.

“I don’t have to answer to you, female,” the captain snarls, spitting at Nesta’s feet.

Cormac fists a hand into the captain’s hair and yanks his head back hard. “You’ll regret that.”

The captain pulls his head free from Cormac’s grasp, but the threat has clearly been delivered. Wariness clings to the corner of the captain’s dark eyes, pinches the sides of his mouth. His gaze darts toward Cassian, his expression both expectant and accepting of his fate.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for,” Cassian comments, his tone cold. “It’s Lady Death you have to answer to now.”

Four pairs of eyes land back on Nesta, and she realizes with a near silent jolt that she’s Lady Death. The name washes over her and unlocks something deep within her soul, that beast within her purring contently at being recognized, at being named. It’s a key turning in a lock, settles comfortably around her like a second skin.

Nesta steps closer to the ship’s captain. She holds her sword point beneath his chin, lifting until his gaze is forced to meet her own. Whatever he sees on her face finally has his dark eyes widening. She leans down enough that she’s right in his face, that he’ll be able to hear every word that she speaks.

“Most captains get to go down with their ship, but after what you’ve done to me, to my friends, to who knows how many women before us? You don’t deserve that honor. The only thing you deserve is to rot on the ocean floors.”

The captain starts to splutter a response, but Nesta doesn’t even let him get a word out. She pulls her sword back just enough that she can sink the blade into his chest. He lets out a pained grunt, red bubbling up in his mouth and spilling from his lips. Nesta presses deeper still, twisting the hilt of the sword.

“You bitch,” the captain gasps, eyes already glazing over and face paling.

“Burn in hell,” Nesta snarls, finally pulling the sword free and leaving the captain to crumble against the wood of the deck.

“Dispose of him and the rest of the crew,” Cassian orders from behind her.

Baz and Cormac both nod and get to work, but a gentle hand at her elbow has Nesta turning away from them. She comes face to face with Cassian again. His eyebrows are dipped low, concern swimming amongst the greens and golds of his hazel eyes. He reaches into one of the pockets of his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, his hand comes up, sliding the fabric against her cheek, the gentle tenderness of the gesture at odds with the blood that comes away from her face.

“Alright, Nes?” Cassian asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” Nesta assures him, curling her fingers around his wrist and keeping his hand there. “Besides, shouldn’t you be calling me Lady Death now?”

“It seemed a fitting name given the way you took down most of the crew before we even arrived. I guess all that training paid off after all.”

“I was just trying to…”

Nesta trails off. Her friends. She was just trying to protect and help her friends. She turns her head, searching the different faces across the deck until she locates Gwyn, Emerie, and Cresseida standing together. Cresseida has a tear in the sleeve of her dress and Emerie has blood streaked across her own face, but all three of them are alive and whole. The relief at the sight is enough to nearly knock Nesta off her feet.

The four of them have a bond like no other now after what’s happened to them, and Nesta knows she’ll never be able to leave them behind. She thinks about how Emerie and Cresseida may not be able to return to Windhaven again after what’s transpired. She thinks about Cresseida’s wish to travel and see the world. She thinks about that almost too familiar shadow she had recognized in Gwyn’s eyes.

With determination settling with steely resolve in Nesta’s veins, she turns back to Cassian. “My new friends are joining the crew.”

“Are they?” Cassian chuckles lightly. “Last time I checked, it was my ship and my crew.”

“They are joining the crew,” Nesta repeats, enunciating each word slowly so there’s no room for argument.

“And what do I get out of it?”

“What? You get three new crew members.”

Cassian hums unconvinced, tilting his head. “I don’t know if that’s a bargain I want to make.”

Nesta lets out an annoyed huff, rolling her eyes. “What do you want then?”

“A favor.”

“A… favor?”

“Just one, little favor from you that I can use when I decide.”

Nesta worries at her bottom lip with her teeth, glancing toward her friends once more. “Fine. One, single favor. That’s it.”

The smile that pulls across Cassian’s face is almost feline, but he holds out his hand toward Nesta. “It’s a deal then.”

“You’re insufferable,” Nesta mutters with another roll of her eyes, but she slides her hand into Cassian’s regardless.

“Always such a sweet talker, Lady Death,” Cassian teases, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Nesta’s knuckles.

Nesta scoffs and pulls her hand free from Cassian’s grip, spinning on her heel and heading toward her friends. She pointedly ignores the way Emerie is once again smirking, that knowing glint in the shop owner’s brown eyes. Instead she focuses on Cresseida’s wide eyes, on the way Gwyn is openly gaping.

“Great news. You all can join the crew,” Nesta announces after awkwardly clearing her throat. “Until the next port or however long you’d like.”

“Isn’t that…” Gwyn starts, still staring over Nesta’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Emerie answers smugly.

“And Nesta just—” Cresseida begins to ask.

“Yep.”

Nesta scowls at Emerie. “You’re the worst. Now, come on.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta rings out the remaining water in her hair over the bucket she’s been using to wash herself following the events of the past day. She straightens and grabs her brush, carefully detangling the strands. With each pull of the bristles through her hair, she thinks about being back on this ship, being back in this cabin. She thinks about spending the afternoon introducing Gwyn, Emerie, and Cresseida to everyone on the crew, showing them around, and chatting with Baz about them joining the daily training sessions.

Nesta sets down her brush and begins to separate her hair into three strands, braiding it back and away from her face. The click of the door opening and closing behind her signals Cassian’s arrival. She hears the shuffle of fabric that indicates him removing his jacket, but she finishes her braid, tying the strands together with a ribbon. Once that’s finished, she finally stands up and turns around, watching as Cassian washes the blood from his hands in the water basin.

“So, when can I expect you to cash in your favor?” Nesta asks, stepping toward the bed and the book she had left abandoned there before they went ashore in Windhaven.

“How about right now?” Cassian counters, turning to face her properly.

“Oh? And what—”

Nesta’s words die in the back of her throat as Cassian stalks toward her, backing her up until she’s hitting the edge of the desk. His arms come up, hands settling against the wood either side of her hips, effectively caging her in. Nesta’s breath hitches in her chest at his closeness. Her fingers bury and twist in her skirts, daring him to speak first.

“A kiss,” Cassian tells her, his voice low and rough.

Nesta feels a spark ricochet through her veins at his words, but she keeps her face perfectly neutral, keeps her spine straight, and doesn’t betray even an flicker of how she’s affected. She leans up and presses a quick kiss to Cassian’s cheek before leaning back against the desk again.

“There. Deal done,” Nesta informs him.

“That is not what I meant.”

“But that was a kiss, was it not? Which is exactly what you asked for. And you only get one favor as part of the deal.”

Cassian’s low laugh skitters across Nesta’s skin, leaving goosebumps erupting in its wake. “I should’ve known you’d somehow find a loophole.”

For a moment, neither of them speak, neither of them move, stuck in a staring contest that Nesta is quite confident she is currently losing judging by the way her heart has started to thunder between her ribs. Cassian’s hand comes up between them, gently tugging the ribbon from the ends of Nesta’s hair, fingers carding through the braid until her hair tumbles around her shoulders and down her back. His palm finds her jaw, cradling it there, and despite the rough calluses from years spent at sea, the touch is gentle.

“You tell me to stop, and we stop,” Cassian promises quietly, leaning in so there's only a breath between them.

“What if I say stop right now?” Nesta dares to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we stop.”

Nesta knows that she should. Knows that she’s still technically a lady, and this isn’t proper, and by the Cauldron, would her mother be rolling in her grave if she could see Nesta now. But this close together, Nesta can count every gold fleck that makes up the maze of Cassian’s hazel eyes. She can trace the slash through his eyebrow, the pink scar along his cheek. She can feel his own heart galloping away where her hand has settled on his chest, seemingly of its own accord.

And she wants to.

Gods, does she want to, propriety and being a proper lady be damned. Something about Cassian has been drawing her in closer and closer for days now, weeks even. Maybe even since that first day on her father’s ship. Something about the way he never balks from her, never tries to diminish her fire the way she was always taught she should, instead seeming to relish in it, rising to meet it happily. Something about the way he sees her and allows her and her alone to see the true side of him hiding behind the pirate captain's mantle. He gave her a sword and his secrets, and now he’s offering her something more. All Nesta has to do is take it.

Her silence must be answer enough, or perhaps Cassian merely sees something in her expressions, but Nesta doesn’t miss the spark that flares in his eyes, the way the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk. His grip tightens on her jaw, just enough that he can tilt her face up more. And then he’s closing the space between them.

Nesta’s eyes flutter closed at the feel of Cassian’s lips pressed against her own. She’s not sure what exactly she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the almost delicate slide of their lips together. Too soon it seems Cassian is pulling away, disappointment cold and heavy in Nesta’s gut, but before she can even open her eyes again, Cassian kisses her again.

This time, the kiss is firmer, more insistent. His hands drop to Nesta’s waist, hoisting her up and onto the desk, all without breaking the way their lips slot and slide together. He settles easily into the cradle between her thighs, and Nesta buries her own hands in his hair, tugging until she can feel Cassian’s groan reverberate against her lips, until she can swallow it down. Cassian presses his tongue into her mouth, and Nesta feels like a livewire. Fire licks up her spine and sends her skin sparking, the feel of his lips against her own, of his hands grasping her waist, a delicious brand.

Cassian pulls away again, and Nesta finds herself leaning forward, chasing the kiss. It’s only when Cassian chuckles softly that her eyes snap open again. She’s intoxicated by the glazed over quality of his eyes, the way his pupils are wide and blown out. The way his lips are tinged red and slightly swollen.

“I didn’t say stop,” Nesta says, her voice breathless even to her own ears.

Cassian gently pulls Nesta’s hands free from his hair, pressing a kiss to the pulse point of each wrist. “Another time.”

It’s a promise, a new bargain, and one that Nesta finds herself itching to collect.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog​ @lifeisntafantasy​ @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl​ @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust​ @a-trifling-matter​ @blueunoias​ @kookskoocie​ @cassiansbigwingspan​ @unlikelypersonalknight1​ @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard

[oswinunknown]

a human morming (wheatley fic)

notes: there is not a lot of plot in this just bc i rlly wanted to write vibes wjfjwjfj

anywho this is a blue sky inspired wheatley fic that i wrote on the bus hope its good.

its just wheatley waking up early and feeling the simple pleasures of the morning. fluffy wjfjejf

WHEATLEY AWOKE WITH A GROAN, his back stiff and his head not wanting to stay horizontal for much longer.

it was a new experience for him honestly. typically before and after he had gotten his new flesh body, he would awake at around 9am-ish give or take a few minutes (and even then he often woke up from falling off the couch or mattress he was sleeping on) which often meant wheatley awoke to an already bright blue sky for the majority of his time as a human. the smell of cooked pastries rolling softly from the warm kitchen and chell's radio humming quietly songs to fill the air.

however, today was the rare exception to all of this as wheatley checked the clock on the wall and saw numbers reading "7:29am" in a dull yet solid white.

kicking the blankets off, he slowly rolled himself to the edge of the bed before stopping just at the right moment before he would usually fall. his plain t-shirt rolled up slightly and his faded red shorts clung tightly to his slim legs.

sitting upright, wheatley quickly stretched his arms before getting up and opening the door. trying to open it as quiet as possible.

the door creaked open, and it's here where wheatley fully realized the differences between his usual waking time and now.

the house was oddly still, where before the hustle of noise from outdoors and the kitchen would fill the silent air like a sort of melody that crept into your mind, came nothing but the hum of the fridge and the sound of wind softly rustling outside his window.

it felt somewhat eerie in a way. the silence as haunting as the chill back There, with nothing but the same white walls, cold gray surfaces, and mechanical hum of machinery surrounding you.

yet, as wheatley took a few tentative steps out into the hallway and into the living room, he could feel the comforting familiarity within the surroundings ease his rising anxiety. the floor comfortingly still, not moving an inch. the hum of the fridge consistent in its melody but holding an odd human feel to it.

it reminded him that he wasn't There anymore. free from Her grasp, and above the desolate chambers he grew used to. 

it also reminded him that he was human now- well again. and a slight unease began to creep up from his chest, a familiar -yet quieter- voice slowly rising in his mind. worries and anxieties threatening to spill like a tsunami of thought.

exhaling, he found himself opening the front door quietly and stepped out into the porch.

the cold morning air bit at wheatley's t-shirt, it's breeze flowing through his blond tousled hair and figure like water. a soft golden yellow accenting the grass in an almost soft vintage glaze. the sky as blue and clear as ever, yet it almost seemed softer than the 9 am skies he grew used to.

he stared at the town of eaden for a while from the comfort of Chell's porch. the usually alive and thriving town in a quiet pause of peace. those awake walking at a steady pace while  the rest were in their beds dreaming of frogs and other human things. 

much like chell, wheatley thought to himself, a slight blush rising to his face as he ran a hand through his hair. his arms leaning against the railing comfortingly.

he supposed being human was a lot easier than he initially thought to be, if it meant this sort of peace and domesticity was to be found here. he *had* managed to survive being human before being put into a core after all.

wheatley smiled, closing his eyes and allowing the warm feeling of ease flow through him and linger.

suddenly wheatley could hear the familiar rhythm of footsteps coming from the door, the noise slowly fading in before becoming crisp and close.

as the noise sounded to be right beside him, he felt the pressure of someone's head leaning against his arm. soft wisps of hair grazing his skin and a familiar warmth beside him.

he didn't need to open his eyes to know it was chell. 

"morning" chell mumbled softly, a smile evident in her voice as she yawned.

wheatley grinned, opening his eyes again as he tilted his head to rest against hers. "g'morning"

an easy quiet rested between them with nothing but the wind filling the air.

as wheatley wrapped a loose arm around chell, hand comfortingly on top of one of her own. a slow and welcoming thought came to his mind.

and wheatley smiled.

being human isn't that bad after all

[zach-titus]

1. I’ve always been called a fish. That’s due to me being inseparable from the water. From growing up at my community pool and the beach to now being a division 1 swimmer… I spend a lot of my time in the water.

2. My favorite music to listen to in the fall is what you would call “camping music.” Nothing quite fits the vibe of falling leaves, early nights, and cool night breezes quite like a fire. I tend to go with Flipturn or Rainbow Kitten Surprise during these months.

3. I’m a 2002 baby by 2 days, so I chose the Salt Lake City Olympics! All my life I’ve been surrounded by sports… and some of my fondest memories growing up were watching sporting events with my dad, whether it was in person or over the TV by the fireplace.

4. I went with my favorite song ever: Rusty by Tyler, the Creator. In the intro to the song, Tyler puts in a voicemail from his good friend: Jason Dill. Jason is a famous skateboarder. I chose the line “You know, grow up. Don’t grow down, grow out.” It’s helped me shy away from trying to be comfortable. Life is about risk and expanding your horizon, trying new things, experiencing new places. Don’t coop yourself up in one spot and don’t back track, move forward with openness.

(The tree is from the album cover: Wolf, by Tyler, the Creator) This album brought me my obsession for music.

Prompt:

“Saffron is, measure for measure, the most expensive spice in the world. In 2013 one ounce of saffron cost $364, while the same quantity of vanilla cost $8 and cardamom a paltry $3.75.” pg. 68

As a big foodie, I’ve heard of the infamous spice, saffron. I’ve never tried it due to its price, I’m a college student living off a summer club swim team coach salary. I’ve only heard amazing things about the extremely low abundant spice. It also has a beautiful color as well, reminds me of the horizon around a setting sun. I also had a Cape May, NJ sweatshirt growing up that was saffron, if not very near to the tone. Honestly, now thinking about it, don’t take my word. I’m extremely colorblind. Saffron, a great color with a classy history.

[applestorms]

alright,

i am well in need of a proper homestuck reread by this point, it's certainly been long enough since i went through the comic as a whole instead of just skipping around to different acts and conversations. to anyone following me rn who would like to avoid possible post spam about this, i'll be tagging everything with "#astronaut reread" so feel free to filter that. dunno if it'll be that spam-y though tbh, i'm trying to be more careful and take my time going through each page and image to really Pay Attention this time round to make sense of all of the theories/analysis i've been reading lately, but that may also make my liveblogging posts longer so. idk we'll see how this goes

initial thoughts: i've always been drawn to the emptiness of early homestuck, the whole aspect of the kids shitting around in their rooms doing basically nothing of real importance (ignoring hs's love of callbacks) feels very true to the experience of being a teenager in the last few decades. it's quite slow story-wise, of course, but it genuinely does set up a lot of the story later on (john's posters all foreshadowing/inspiring later plot points, etc.) and the vibe is just. man idk, i've seen people criticize act 6 for being slow in that nothing really happens since all the characters are just Waiting, but reading through the very beginning again that almost feels more true to the core of homestuck, or at least where it started. and i like it, sometimes it's nice to just slow down, even though i get the frustration w/ that later in the story after the plot has so much more baggage. but more reflection on that later.

john is an interesting character on a meta level in how he represents the most basic entity in homestuck: the first kid, upon which all other kids evolve off of, but what's more interesting about that fact to me is how his original Home plays into that character. maybe i'm biased by nostalgia, but (A1:82) is such an interesting page, it's like the first point where the comic hints at taking itself more seriously by marking just how empty the space surrounding john is, houses all copies of one another and far apart along the streets. not to mention the wind running through the windchime, perhaps another instance of foreshadowing/inspiration? hussie mentions the idea of vriska being tied to the image of the sun that page ends on in the commentary notes, troll gods not yet conceived of but looking down and watching all the same. honestly all i can think of is a section from the start of ch2 of the zhuangzi:

Master Dapple said, “My, isn’t that a good question you’ve asked, Ziyou! Just now I lost myself. Do you know? You’ve heard the pipes of people, but not the pipes of earth. Or if you’ve heard the pipes of earth, you haven’t heard the pipes of Heaven.”

“May I ask what you mean?”

“The Big Lump belches breath and it’s called wind. If only it wouldn’t start! When it starts, the ten thousand holes begin to hiss. Don’t you hear the shsh-shsh? In the mountain vales there are great trees a hundred spans around with knots like noses, like mouths, like ears, like sockets, like rings, like mortars, like ditches, like gullies. Gurgling, humming, hooting, whistling, shouting, shrieking, moaning, gnashing! The leaders sing ‘Eeeeeeh!’ The followers sing ‘Ooooooh!’ In a light breeze it’s a little chorus, but in a gusty wind it’s a huge orchestra. And when the violent winds are over, the ten thousand holes are empty. Haven’t you witnessed the brouhaha?”

Ziyou said, “So the pipes of earth are those holes, and the pipes of people are bamboo flutes. May I ask about the pipes of Heaven?”

Master Dapple said, “Blowing the ten thousand differences, making each be itself and all choose themselves—who provokes it? Does Heaven turn? Does earth stay still? Do the sun and moon vie for position? Who is in charge here? Who pulls the strings? Who sits with nothing to do, gives it a push and sets it in motion? Do you think it’s locked in motion and can’t be stopped? Or do you think it’s spinning out of control and can’t slow itself down? Do the clouds make the rain? Or does the rain make the clouds? Who rumbles all this out? Who sits there with nothing to do and takes perverse delight in egging it on? The wind rises in the north—now west, now east, now dilly-dallying up above. Who huffs and puffs it? Who sits with nothing to do and blows it? May I ask the cause?”

(translation by norden & ivanhoe)

perhaps that's fitting with all the talk of transformation & flexibility/adaptation in that chapter.

you really can't get away from the names "homestuck" and "s(u)burb" with this beginning to the comic. john, as the quintessential homestuck kid, trapped in his house in the empty suburbs, stuck not because of any physical boundaries/walls, but perhaps because of a lack of them. massive roads and sprawling suburbs that make it impossible to get anywhere on foot is a pretty classic image of modern america, so john's desire for breath, for movement, makes sense in that regard. homestuck has always been most appealing to me in how it doesn't shy away from reality, as messy as that engagement often is, and this beginning feels like it gets at some of that emotional core that homestuck started with. it's immediately followed by a joke about pissing/shitting in the mailbox too. classic.

[multifandomme]

In The Shadows

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: Sometimes, rude awakenings can be a welcomed surprise.

Genre: Smut, (mommy kink, strap ons, choking, light degrading, pet names, face-slapping, somno vibes), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1k.

This piece is for day 5 of kinktober under the 'mommy kink' prompt. This is a modified version of a work I originally posted in 2022.

A/N: Shout out to @strangergraphics for the dividers.

Emily Prentiss Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Kinktober 2024 || Read on AO3

Robust was the force that tore you from slumber, a pair of frantic hands grasping hard around your ankles as they dragged you to the edge of the bed. A dazzling simper peered out from the surrounding dimness, pale features eclipsed by the swaying of branches beyond the window, projected upon her skin like a canvas.

Deep, brown irises stirred with something unbeknownst, glimmering as ephemeral bursts of light cast upon them. They transfixed you, she possessed you, enough to have you returning to a state of half-sleep.

“Ssshh, baby,” Emily cooed, the familiarity of her voice able to pierce your dreams and lull you awake, burgundy-painted fingernails etching a downward line from your sternum. “Go back to sleep, Mommy just wants to play with you a little, hm?"

Shivers flurried over you, more fervently so as you felt the woman’s fingers pause in place as they reached the hem of your underwear before gingerly slipping beneath them. Subconsciously, your mouth fell agape, the smallest of whimpers exuding until Emily occluded it with a finger smothering against the flesh of your lips.

“Ah, ah,” she chastised, dulcetly, her tone enough to render you docile, compliant, melting into a shapeless puddle below her. “You look so pretty when you’re sleeping,” She cooed, the weight of her lust beclouded by the faintest of smirks. “Mommy just couldn’t help herself, you understand, don't you, princess?"

Emily traced languidly across your clit, hypnotic, feather-like touches willing you into madness. Unbridled amusement cloaked her features as she stalled to marvel at the way your hips bucked and thrashed pathetically below her careful ministrations.

“You’re soaked,” she observed in faux surprise, seduction setting her dark eyes alight as she lifted her fingers to her mouth and suckled in delight. “Such an easy, little thing, aren’t you?”

Any semblance of coherency was long forsaken, your throat vibrating with moans that threatened to spill out, uncontrolled. But the way Emily ogled you so overtly kept you silent, restrained, aching.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Emily queried, a devilish smirk fused to her lips in the knowing that the question was redundant in any case. “Answer me, darling.”

A zealous nod was all that you were able to muster as you felt Emily roughly prying open your thighs, slender fingers ripping away the material that separated her from what she desired.

Cool air breezed across your bare skin, the familiar feeling of something large pressing roughly into your pussy. Emily wasted no time as she collapsed on top of you, the intrusion pushing in to the hilt as an all-encompassing pain-pleasure rippled with vigour. Soft lips trailed against your neck and punctuated each merciless thrust, a hand soon finding refuge around your throat and tightening in sporadic motion.

“Mommy,” you breathed, the groan lost amongst the sound of feral movement, Emily's teeth buried harshly into your pulse point, nipping at your skin and bound to leave bruising thereafter.

“You want more, don’t you?” Emily coaxed, persuasively, the pace abruptly increasing as you wrangled for breath. “Nothing but a toy for Mommy to use.”

Emily's tongue flickered across her lips as your eyes rolled into your head, dizzied with exhilaration as she slammed into you with brute force. Carnal desire had her driving into you like a woman deranged, a sadistic smile never too far away as she cinched your throat harder and had you clinging onto consciousness by the flimsiest of threads.

“Please, Mommy,” you croaked out pathetically, a blurriness infiltrating your periphery as you fought to stay present, fought to keep your eyes securely upon Emily's to no avail. “I think I’m going to pass-”

A stinging sensation racked across your cheek, a sudden alertness drawing a gasp from you as you noted the absence of pressure around your neck. Emily grinned widely and slapped you mercilessly across the face once more, a pitiful whine fleeing from you as the pain furthered the visceral pulsation between your legs.

“Fuck,” you blurted, the pleasure slowly superseding every other sensation as you grappled with Emily's shoulders in pre-warning, your fingernails digging desperately into her back.

The woman merely chuckled, the force behind her hips so strong, so unwavering that you knew that your body would ache for days in the aftermath. Silver-grey strands tickled your face as you tried to jostle free of her, arms holding you in a vice grip to reiterate just how powerless she had rendered you. Nothing but a rag doll below her tactful tantalisation.

“Aww, am I being too rough, baby?” Emily mocked, wholeheartedly humoured by your strife. “Just a little longer, darling," she promised, sweetly, a sinister smile befalling her in contradiction. "Mommy isn't finished with you, not yet."

The taunting tone of her voice sent you into a spiral, your legs knotted around her as you bounced yourself upon her length, consequences pushed aside as you came undone below her.

“Mommy!” You squealed, your hands flailing as they grabbed at every accessible part of her, your thighs quaking in flexion.

Emily quirked an eyebrow, silence engulfing the room as she drew backwards to feast on the sight of you, disheveled, humiliated, breathless. Her fingers lingered between your legs, touching directly upon your clit only to revel in the way you recoiled from the unbearable intensity it inflicted.

“Oh, my darling,” she whispered, a gentle kiss pressed to your temple. “You’re going to pay for that.”

It was only then that you realised that you had failed to ask for permission, your features flooding with terror as Emily regarded you with a victorious glint in her eye. The debt would undoubtedly be collected, though you wondered just what Emily had planned for your punishment.

"What are you going to do to me, Mommy?" You mumbled, nervously, the sudden emergence of Emily's thumb swiping softly against your lips, a deep hum emanating from her.

"You seem to have forgotten the rules, sweetheart," she crooned, tenderly, "but don't worry your pretty head about that," she assured, shoving her thumb forcibly into your mouth, your eyes widening at the sudden infiltration. "Mommy will make sure you remember all of them, hm? It's only fair, right, baby?"

[gssoftwareposts]

Luxurious Villa with Pools: Amazing Venue for parties

Hosting an intimate gathering with your closest friends. The night is young, and the air is filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses in your luxurious villa with a private pool in Joka, Kolkata —a villa where elegance meets exclusivity, where every detail is designed to make your party unforgettable. This is the magic that Villas by Harbour Greens brings to life. 

  When you’re planning a party, the venue is everything. It sets the tone, creates the vibe, and, let’s be honest, can make or break the entire experience. Villas by Harbour Greens offers a sophisticated ambience.

But what truly sets these villas apart? Let’s dive in.

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No more worrying about noise complaints or sharing space with strangers. It’s your party, your way. Harbour Greens villas offer ample space for both indoor and outdoor activities. The interiors are elegantly designed with modern amenities and cozy furniture that make everyone feel right at home. You can set up a dance floor, arrange a buffet, or even create different zones for various activities. The open floor plans make it easy to move from one area to another, so your guests can mingle, dance, or just relax as they please.

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Harbour Greens understands this, which is why their villas are designed with both comfort and entertainment in mind. They offer the perfect setting for hosting parties, but they’re also a wonderful place to unwind after the festivities are over. Whether you’re planning to use the villa as your primary residence or as a vacation home, you’ll find that it’s an investment that keeps on giving.

Final Thoughts

When it comes to hosting the perfect party, the venue is key. A luxurious villa with a private pool offers the ideal setting for any event, combining elegance, comfort, and fun in one stunning package. And when you choose a villa by Harbour Greens, you’re not just getting a beautiful space—you’re getting a venue that’s designed to make your event truly unforgettable.