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amaranthineghost · 1 year ago

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Hi there! Can you do a pov/one shot/ fanfic where Lando is dating Y/N and her love language is biting. She randomly and softly bots Lando but he enjoys it knowing that she is fully comfortable with him to be herself. One day Max,Pietra and some other friends of Lando come to visit them in Monaco and Pietra is annoyed with Max for teasingly refusing to sit next to Y/N, P telling him that he can sit next to Y/n cause she doesn’t bite. Lando starts laughing and says that y/n does bite and moves his shirt to show a small bite mark on his shoulder. Y/N laughs it off but she gets insecure thinking that her love language is bothering Lando so she fights the urge to bite him again. After a few days Lando notices that she doesn’t bite him anymore and starts thinking that he did something to upset her. He asks her why and she eventually tells him and he gets a bit upset. He tells her that he actually likes it because its her way of showing her love and the fact that she is comfortable around him.

Idk some fluff or something

Thank you for at least reading this and I really love your work🧡

| SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: reader's love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity

ꕥ author note: oh to have a boyfriend to experience this with. fair warning, I refrain from using y/n in imagines unless it's really unavoidable because at this point y/n is a whole person by herself. if something is worded weirded, or 'she' and 'her' get repetitive, that's why. but anyways, I really like this request, its so cute and silly and i hope i did it justice :3

HIS BODY WAS OFTEN ADORNED with bite marks, indentions in his skin where you could see the canines had dipped it lower than the rest. it was a reminder to him of her love.

and he happily carried them everywhere with him, smiling to himself with every glance in the mirror at his bare torso. some faded more than others as they trailed along his arms, upwards to his shoulder and across to his collarbone.

the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed over them, a small smile spreading across his face, something he'd done everyday as the new blemishes came and went.

at first, he'd thought of it as strange, taken off guard by the sudden pinch on his bicep as she'd sink her teeth into his flesh. not so hard to break skin, she wasn't a vampire. but it was enough for him to be reminded of it.

as time went on and the occurrences became more frequent, he'd find himself smiling at it. it was his way of knowing she loved him, that she was comfortable around him, that she was safe with him, she always was and she knew that. at least he hoped she did.

to be loved was to be bitten, was what he knew. she had taught him that.

he had noticed a change though, it was hard not to. the sudden pinces throughout the day, he hadn't noticed weren't there because he had gotten used to them being there. if that made sense. it did to him.

but if he didn't notice the lack of sudden but light pain, followed with a trail of thin salvia leading to the culprits lips, he would notice the lack of marks that riddled his body.

lando had woken up that morning, groggy and his body sore from yesterday's training. the warm of his shared bed beckoned him to stay. to lay with her forever.

he wished he could, but he knew better than to lay around, even if it was with his girlfriend. though he might. was there ever any harm to remain within the comfort and grasp of the warm body that stayed passed out next to him, oblivious to his waking?

he always thought not. his trainer thought otherwise but turned a blind eye for the young couple. though their sickeningly love for the other made him roll his eyes behind their backs. all fun and games. something to laugh about.

his veined hands, warm and adorned with rings, traced across the low of her back. he watched the goosebumps take their place on her skin, her face stirring as she pushed herself further into the bed. he chuckled softly at her reaction, his thumb gliding across her exposed skin, dipping below the hem of the cloth on her body.

he lightly squeezed the flesh under his fingertips, pulling his hand across her back before replacing the covers on her. he slipped out of bed, leaning over momentarily.

his fingers slipped through her hair, getting caught in the knots that tied in the midst of her slumber. using his thumb, he brushed the strands from her face to see half her features smushed against the plush pillow.

another low chuckle escaped his throat, tucking the hair behind her ear as he pulled back and stared at the beauty before him. his eyes dilated the more he looked at her, but he wouldn't know.

his journey through the bathroom to get ready would be halted when he noticed a difference on his bare skin. but it wasn't bare because of the lack of shirt he found himself not to be wearing. what was different?

the pads of his fingers traced his skin for the indentions he cherished deeply, only met with the perfect evenness of his tan skin.

his actions haltered and brows furrowed. instinctively, he leaned closer to the mirror, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent as he pulled his skin. he turned in circles.

no blemishes in sight. not the work of his beloved girlfriend anyways.

he frowned, disappointed by the disruption of his routine. his ritual.

he swore to her many times that he could probably differentiate the marks of her teeth in his flesh to any other bite mark he'd come across. he knew her teeth better than his own. he swore he did.

he knew the indentions that littered his skin, but they weren't here. he wanted them to be so bad. why the change?

his heart sunk in his chest. he sighed. how could he not notice?

his eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, his fingers still tracing his bare collarbone and down his shoulder. he pursed his lips, eating away at the pink flesh until it irritated.

his hands fell down to the sink, supporting his body weight as he leaned on them as he pondered.

he surely noticed how faded they looked. how the red inflammation, that manifested on his skin, just didn't. but the change never processed in his brain.

he racked through the events of the past couple of days. nothing stood out.

they'd mostly stayed home together, other than the times lando went out for training. but it surely wasn't that, as she had no problem with it in the past. she understood what he did and the requirements of it that he had to meet.

lando groaned in realization. days earlier, lando and his girlfriend were out on the water with a few of their friends, drivers and their girlfriends.

it was a beautiful day, he had remembered because of the way the sun reflected off her skin, how her pupils shrank at the blinding light, but revealed the capsulating colors behind them.

he sat on the cushioned seats of the yacht, next to her with his warm hand on her inner thigh, a drink in the other. the rest of the group littered around the deck with various drinks in hand as they chatted.

most of them were just hanging out in their swimsuits as none of them had yet decided to take the plunge into the crystal waters.

they had sat next to each other for a while, lando leaning closer to hear her voice, the music was loud. her lips grazed his ear a few times, he remembered. the gloss on her lips left on his skin.

she remembered the scratch of his cheek as he'd forgotten to shave earlier whenever he'd lean into whisper in her ear. his lips ghostly hovered her neck, grazing her skin softly. despite the warm sun, goosebumps took their place down her neck.

he always chuckled at the rising bumps on her skin whenever he did something she liked. it always gave him a surge of confidence to know the effect he had against her.

"get a room!" the brit called out, laughing as he walked over with a drink in hand. his girlfriend followed behind, shaking her head at his words, but a smile evident on her face.

max fewtrell was one of lando's long time friends. their girlfriends also happened to be friends, long before the two guys came into their lives.

"mind if we sit?" pietra asked, not waiting for an answer as she took a place on the leather couch. leaving a space between the two girls so max could sit too.

she looked up to see max still standing, she rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her, "there's enough room for all of us, why won't you sit?"

max shrugged his shoulder, "I don't know, mate, she might bite me if I try sitting down!" he exclaimed jokingly, inciting a laugh between the group.

she felt her body heat up uncomfortably, laughing along despite her discomfort.

pietra tugged on his sleeve, "she doesn't bite, you're being dramatic." her attempts were futile.

lando laughed and shook his head, "I don't know, mate, you might want to be careful." his hand left her thigh as he pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder, as he hadn't taken off his shirt just yet.

she felt her face flush and reddened, but hid it by laughing with the group, pushing her head into the crevice of his neck momentarily. his hand found her back again.

she felt the cushion next to her dip, followed by a hand squeezing her knee. she turned her head. pietra gave her a sympathetic look when she'd realized the girl's reaction.

pietra leaned close to her ear, like what lando and her were doing earlier. she whispered a few words to her before pulling away and taking a sip of her drink, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. she felt herself smile and relaxed in her seat.

but on the inside, she was eating herself up, overthinking to exhaustion. her stomach felt sick, was her habit a bother to him?

she found herself hiding in the bathroom throughout the rest of the hangout, claiming seasickness but denying medicine for it.

each time she find hersef back in the bathroom with anxious nausea and the door locked, lando would be on the other side. he'd knock on her door, talking her through it, asking her if he could get her anything, telling her he'd wait for her to come out again.

days past and she refrained from sinking her teeth into the perfect skin of his bicep, the valley of his collarbone, or the broadness before the drop of his shoulder.

each time she found herself with the urge to show the love she had through her teeth, she stopped herself.

it killed lando to think about how he could've made her feel. but he needed her to come to him, he didn't want to pry information out of her.

he could ask but he couldn't make her tell.

the door to the bathroom creaked open, lando's head snapping towards the noise, noticing the tired face eyeing him through the slit in the door.

he pushed himself from the counter, his heart beating slightly faster as he sighed. she opened the door more and dragged her feet against the tiled floor. he noticed the way her eyes squinted against the light.

she stopped when she collided against him. her cheek pushed against his chest as she leaned her weight against him.

he pulled her closer when he placed a hand on her head, another one around the low of her back. his lips were against her hair and he inhaled slowly. the faded tropical scent of her shampoo lingered in her hair.

in his head, he debated asking her. not only was she still tired, but he didn't want to push her farther, in case he had done something.

his heart beat heavily in his chest, muttering against her scalp, "what's going on, darling?" he caressed the strands of her hair, "hm?"

her heart skipped a beat, she thought he hadn't noticed, or that he didn't say anything because he had secretly hoped for this to happen.

she decided to play dumb, speaking softly against his bare skin, "what do you mean?" her voice muffled.

"come on, I know your biting habits. what's wrong?" he spoke patiently to her as he cradled her tired body in his arms, swaying softly as they stood admist the cold bathroom air.

her eyes fluttered shut as she mumbled, "I thought it annoyed you."

his head shook against hers, "why do you think that, love?" he held his breath for the answer, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

he was met with silence for a long time, he knew she was thinking it over in her head. she finally spoke, "remember the yacht trip a few days ago?"

he exhaled deeply, his eyes clenching shut as he pursed his lips, "i'm an idiot," he muttered, pulling away partially.

" 's okay," she shrugged, looking up at him with big eyes.

he swore in his mind, if it weren't for the circumstances, he would've folded. he slowly blinked, his tongue gliding along his lower lip.

"it's not, darling. even if max and i were just messing around," he breathed in and out slowly, his hand caressing her pillow-marked face, "i'm sorry you felt that way, okay? you know, i love when you do it," he reassured, and he saw her eyes dilate when he did.

"really? but why?" she questioned him, scanning his face, eyes, body language for any hint of deceit. she found none.

"it tells me you're comfortable, baby, and that's all I want for you."

she listened for his tone. it was sincere.

and they stayed like that for a while. in each other's embrace, they knew all was well again as they talked through it some more.

"ow."

#formula 1 #formula 1 drivers #formula one #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando #lando imagine #lando norris #formula 1 imagine #fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1

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knickety · 2 months ago

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doing some digging and reading of lore for my yaoqing trio manifesto (which is leaning slightly feiqiu heavy at the moment BUT I AM determined to do Moze justice as well. part of the reason I am yelling about this here, because it is so fascinating)

When Feixiao first meets Moze, he tries to attack her, angry with her+her troops for routing the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus who had been experimenting on him. Despite the experiments, he had considered them family, not knowing the broader details of their operation but only that they had 'saved' him (for their own purposes) after he was orphaned and abandoned by his previous home. We don't know any details about his life prior to the Disciples, for now.

Back to Feixiao! It seems that she had initially planned to have nothing further to do with Moze after freeing him- after his initial first lunge at her, she deflects, telling him that "Someone will come to plan a home and life for you. Just follow them and you will be fine."

Moze does not listen, and continues trying to attack her. She dodges, holds him back, tells her soldiers not to react or punish him- and admits that he reminds her of herself, freshly escaped from the borisin war camp where she grew up. And this similarity prompts a change of mind:

First of all, hilarious that part of the deal was Feixiao being like "you can try to kill me... but you need to learn and grow and take care of yourself first." okay mom

Second of all:

We see this odd transaction they've got going- Feixiao, who says her only enemy has ever been herself, places a guard who has a vested interest in killing her close to her side- to keep her on his toes, to (presumably- this is my own speculation) train him to be the best equipped to take her out, should she ever actually become a threat.

She trades his attempts on her life for missions carried out on her behalf- and it is through those missions, which Moze at first only carries out to earn more 'forgiveness'/attempts at trying to revenge himself upon her, that he begins to question his loyalty to the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, and realize the extent of the harm that they did- but doesn't think about it, because to question that would be to throw this whole tenuous balance into question. If he no longer feels loyalty to the Disciples, and no longer wants revenge on Feixiao, what does that leave him with?

And in his E6, which I've seen people refer to as the character represented in their purest form, we see this:

Moze, clutching one of Feixiao's strales so tightly that it cuts him. Clinging to the fascimile of vengeance, of her transactional forgiveness- even if he has stopped truly wanting to kill her, and even if there is nothing to forgive.

#hsr #feixiao #moze #yaoqing trio #if anyone has further thoughts to contribute I would love to hear them <3 this was suuuper sloppily put together #knick rambles #analysis #feimoze

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starogeorgina · 5 months ago

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𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targ oc

Warnings: Smut, violence, blood, swearing

1.16

Jacaerys flinches in pain. His fingers dig into the dark brown leather arms of the chair as the maester finishes stitching the wound in his thigh where the arrow had struck him. Jace had reluctantly accepted the smallest amount of milk from the poppy after being persuaded by your mother, who was becoming distressed seeing him in pain. Your mother and Daemon had taken kings landing without any bloodshed when the green army guarding the city dropped their weapons and retreated when they saw Syrax and Caraxes circling above the keep. But the cheering for your mother's victory was short-lived when you and Jacaerys returned injured.

When the maester moves away, a handmaiden steps forward with a bowl of clean water and a cloth to wipe the blood away. Her touch is unintentionally harsh, and when Jace clenches his fist, you decide to intervene.

“Allow me.”

You hold your hand out to take the bowl from her, but the handmaiden looks back at Maester, as if she’s waiting for him to give her permission. The sooner Maester Gerardys arrived from Dragonstone, the better. You didn’t blame the girl for being unsure; she had served the greens for so long that she probably thought you were all monsters.

“I can tend to my husband,” you say softly. “You may go; we will be fine.”

The handmaid leaves the bowl and cloth on the table, then bows before leaving. Clearing his throat, the maester says, “I will need to return soon and put a fresh bandage on the princess’s arm to cover the stitches, my prince.”

“I will redress the princess’s arm once she has bathed.”

“My prince, princess,” the maester seems unsure but goes without saying anything further. Since maester Orwyle was in chains, the current maester would only be serving in the keep for a short time before returning to the citadel.

Exhausted, you sit on the floor between Jace’s legs and start washing away the blood, old and new. Seeing fresh tears gather in your eyes, Jace gently tilts your chin up to face him. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know my love, but it’s over. Our mother is on the throne, and the greens are no longer a threat. Our children can come home.”

You press your cheek against his clothed thigh. “It’s not over, though; Aegon escaped. He will still have men willing to back him for being born with a cock. What if he finds our children before we do?”

Jace’s jaw tightens. He couldn’t deny it was a possibility. “Sunfyre is still in the dragon pit; Aegon won’t be able to go north on foot. If he’s smart, he’ll leave the red keep. Knights have been sent to search Old Town and what remains of the riverlands.”

He was right; as long as Aegon was unable to reach his dragon, he’d be stuck lurking in the sewers where he belonged. The greens were currently locked in the cells of the castle, aside from the most dangerous one. “I’ve still not received a raven back yet; I’m worried.”

“It will take a couple of days, my love, and I trust Lord Stark will let no harm come to our family.”

“I best get this off you,” your hands shake as you resume wiping blood off his leg. When Jace suddenly tenses, you stop. “Jacaerys?”

He quickly steps in front of you, snatching his sword that’s lying on the wooden table. The door to the chamber bursts open, and in the commotion, you knock the bowl containing bloody water over. Daemon comes to an abrupt halt. “There are six members of the kingsguard posted outside these quarters, and you believed our enemies could waltz by them?”

“And yet some of the very same kingsguard remained in kings landing and served the greens. Until her grace chooses knights herself, I won’t trust them.”

“How very wise, my prince,” Daemon smiles before looking both over. “You are both still filthy. Good. Come along; her grace wants us to join her immediately.”

—

Jace finds solace holding you close in the bed you’d be spending the night in. As your mother only reclaimed her rightful throne earlier that day, permanent quarters had yet to be readied, and the servants were working hard to remove any sigils of the usurper before hanging your mother's banners. Not that you cared about something so insignificant as sleeping quarters; you just wanted the day to be over.

Jace smiles at your shoulder; your robe is open at the front, giving him access to the bare skin of your stomach. He traces his finger along the glossy-looking scars left from multiple pregnancies.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing; I’m just admiring how beautiful you are.”

A small laugh passes your lips. “You can hardly even see my scaly scars in this light.”

Over the years, Jacaerys would insist you think of the stretch marks as dragon scales whenever you complained of them. From anyone else, it may have been an insult, but Jace always said it admiringly. Neither of you had bathed since returning, as Daemon said it would be good for the people to see Rhaenyra's eldest children and heirs looking like warriors. Both of your bodies and hair were covered in soot, blood, and dirt. Jace stripped his clothes off, then collapsed onto the bed naked, while you threw a thin blue robe on.

“They are reminders of how strong you are, only adding to your beauty.”

You chuckle at his sweet words. You run your fingers through Jace’s thick hair, keeping as you start to fall into a slumber, but the pressure building makes you reposition further up the bed until you’re sitting with your back against the headrest. Jace looks at you quizzically and moves to sit beside you.

“The weight of my breasts is hurting my back.”

He glances at you sympathetically. If your baby was here, the pain would subside dramatically since you’d be able to feed him. You noticed Jace’s gaze now lingering on your swollen breast. Realizing he’s been caught, he gulps down, “This is the biggest they have ever been.”

You readjust your posture, and this time Jace does the same, so he’s right beside you. He pushes your robe open further and cups your breasts, feeling the warm, swollen flesh in his hands as he lifts them slightly.

“Gods.”

“Feel any better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He slowly rubs circles on your sensitive nipples until they are hard, then dips his head down to take one into his mouth. Jace gives equal attention to both breasts, licking and sucking on them to give you relief. One of his hands slowly moves from your breast, down your rib cage, and stops just below your navel. Wetness was gathering between your thighs, and Jace knew this by the way you pressed your legs together.

His lips ghost over yours. “What do you want?”

“For my husband to desire me.”

“Sweet wife, all I’ve ever wanted was you, and even now, I still ache for your touch.” Jace caresses your thigh; the metal on his rings is cool against your skin. He presses his long finger through your slit, gathering arousal, then rubs it over your clit, causing you to moan. He sucks on your nipple again.

Lewd sounds fall from your mouth as Jace pushes a finger between your folds. Your back arches at his touch. Given how long it had been since you were last intimate and how reactive your body was to his touch, it doesn’t take long for your legs to begin shaking as your orgasm gets closer. Jace props at your hole with a second finger, but when you wince, he pulls it away.

“Still so tight, princess; I don’t wish to hurt you.”

“Fuck, Jace!”

Screaming his name, you climax over his fingers. “If it weren’t for the pain and wound on your thigh, I’d mount and ride you as I would a dragon.”

“I will be most definitely looking forward to the feeling of you claiming me as yours again.” Smiling, his nose brushes against yours, “but I’m not done with you yet for the night. I’m desperate to taste you.”

—

“Have the cots moved slightly further apart. My sons will only kick each other during the night if they are too close.”

The handmaiden nods. “I will have them moved, princess.”

In the early hours of the morning, you were informed your mother's old quarters would be the ones you would reside in. The color green was almost completely withdrawn from the castle walls. All bedchambers would be adorned with the sigil of House Targaryen, along with the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, to honor Queen Aemma. And a silver seahorse on sea green from House Velaryon to honor not only your husband but also your late father, Laenor Velaryon. Aemma and Rhaenys bedchambers would be beside each other, and Avery and Aethan would share a room until they were older.

“Thank you… forgive me, I never caught your name.”

“Mia Princess. Which bedchamber would you like to be in Prince Daemon’s room?”

“The room next to his brothers, but have his cot brought to my side of the bed. My babe will be sleeping in the same room as us.”

Nearly all of the servants had traveled from Dragonstone by boat to serve the queen in King's landing. The handmaidens who knew how to care for your children chose several items for their new chambers, including furniture, clothing, and bedding. You pick up one of the blankets and look for the name sewn into it.

“Good morrow, my prince.”

“Good morrow,” he nods politely. “Good morrow, wife.”

Noticing something was slightly off with Jacaerys, you turn to face the handmaiden. “Could you ask for them to move the crib into our bedchamber before building the furniture in the princess’s room?”

“Of course, right away, princess.”

“Thank you, Mia.” When she’s out of the room, you place a hand on Jace’s arm. “Something wrong, my prince?”

“You haven’t eaten this morning.”

Chuckling, you look at him surprised. “Is that all? I could not find sleep and bathed early, then got caught up in different things. I have news: a raven arrived from Clara, and the children are fine. The Stark’s are taking good care of them.”

“Thank the gods!” he sighs in relief. Jacaerys, like you, was terrified that something would happen to them; his calm demur about the situation was just a front. Stepping forward, he holds the blanket in your hand at the opposite end. “Aega?”

“It’s supposed to say Aegarax, but I’ve not had the time to finish it.” You’d embroider the name of your children’s dragons into their blankets once they are chosen. “Soon all my time will be consumed with motherly duties again, and I for one cannot wait.”

Jace runs his knuckle over your cheek; the gaze in his eyes is nothing short of adoration. “My love, I don’t believe those duties ever stopped.”

—

Growing up as the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you were spoiled with the finest gowns and jewelry. Even when you lived among vipers, you still had an exceptional wardrobe. But as one of your handmaidens finished the intricate braids in your silver hair, you felt different. The black dress was made of the softest free-flowing fabric and was slightly shorter at the front to allow your red dragon riding boots to be worn soon. On the bodice of the dress, a three-headed red dragon is sewn in. The sleeves were short enough for the stitches on your arm to be seen.

Daemon’s gaze was burning into the back of you as he patiently waited. He knew how important keeping appearances was. He was dressed in the armor that he would wear into battle.

When the braiding is finished, you excuse the handmaiden and stand. Daemon gives you an approving nod: “You look fearsome, good daughter. Queen Visenya would be proud. Not only a princess, but a Targaryen dragon-rider who fights for the rightful queen.”

Toying with the rings on your fingers, you say, “Might I ask where we are going? I don’t believe her grace mentioned us going to battle on dragon back.”

“To face our enemies. As you know, Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Jacaerys are discussing solutions on how best to deal with the crown's debt to the Iron Bank caused by the usurper, and her grace wishes for you to take the lead on another issue. Shall we go?”

Daemon has his hand on the hilt of dark sister as you follow his lead, making your way through the hallways of the keep. When the halls are nearly empty, Daemon breaks the silence. “As I said to her grace, you and Prince Jacaery are perfectly matched. You both possess your mother’s gentle nature, are quick to anger, and never forget a slight; however, if you are to rule one day, we will need to make sure you can channel your anger properly.”

“Ah yes, something you strive in, Prince Daemon.”

He chuckles, “Our queen thinks the same thing. Which is why she thinks it's best you decide what happens next.”

You stop walking when you reach the outside of the throne room. It scares you, not knowing what awaits on the other side. “I’m frightened, Daemon,” you say quietly enough that only he can hear. “What if I let my mother and Jacaerys down?”

“You are a Targaryen, Lyarra. Blood of the dragon, and one day you’ll be queen. The simple truth is that, as the daughter of the first queen of Westeros, you’ll have to understand the importance of your responsibilities.”

“I understand my responsibilities.”

—

“Why am I to decide?” You ask in your mother tongue.

High Valyrian rolls off Daemon’s tongue impeccably. “The queen still feels guilt sending you to live with these usurper cunts. She is trying to make amends.”

It hurts your heart to know your mother still blames herself for how badly the Hightowers treated you.

Although Aegon fled when your mother and Daemon took back the king's landing, the rest of the green council were arrested and held in the black cells of the keep. Not daring to overstep by sitting on the throne that belongs to your mother, you stand in front of it. Your hands become sweaty as you look down at the prisoners who were on their knees, trying to decide their fate. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, especially with the memories of how cruelly you had been treated coming flooding back. You glance at Lady Baela, the only other member of the Queen's Council who is currently present. She gives you a small nod, a silent act of support.

Clearing your throat, you speak in English again and address members of the kingsguard. “Return Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, Lord Jasper Wyldel, to their previous cells. They are to be sharply questioned to see if they are of any further use to us.”

“And if they aren’t?” Daemon asks with a mischievous look on his face.

“Then they can either die or go north and join the nightwatch. Take Ser Arryk to the cells on the second level. After being questioned, he will receive the same choice.”

Alicent scoffs.

“If I may ask something, princess?”

You look at the traitor's bastard Otto amused and say, “Speak freely, but nothing you say will change your fate.”

Understanding, he nods, “What is to become of Aegon’s heirs? They are—”

“Innocent,” you cut him off. “Princess Jaehaera and Prince Maelor will be treated as any other highborn child. You have my word; no harm will come to them.”

“The city belongs to Princess Rhaenyra for now.” Alicent’s voice is laced with venom. “But she will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”

“Aemond is dead.” You study her expression, and she does not waver. The former queen doesn’t believe her son is dead. You walk down the steps until you are in front of her and crouch down. “The bruising on my neck is from his hands. He managed to sneak into Dragonstone and waited until I was alone in my bedchamber and tried to strangle me to death.”

Her eyes gloss over with tears.

“Prince Jacaerys put an end to the assassination attempt.” You stand up straight again and smooth out the creases in your dress while taking a couple of steps backwards. “The usurper's loyal hound, Ser Criston Cole was killed by dragonfire on the battlefield.”

She holds your gaze and grits her teeth. “Which dragon?”

“Vermax.”

“Bastards are monstrous by nature.”

“Another word about my husband, and I shall have your tongue cut from your mouth. The last time we saw each other, you mocked the deaths of Prince Lucerys and Prince Gaemon. You should be grateful I haven’t had your head placed on a fucking spike.”

Otto gives his daughter a stern look, telling her to be quiet.

“Death is an easy escape, Alicent. You can live the rest of your life knowing that your own ambition is the reason your children are dead. Send her to the silent sisters.”

When she’s escorted out of the throne room by Ser Erryk, you return your attention to the men remaining. “Otto Hightower, I sentence you to death for the crime of treason.”

Prince Daemon stands beside you, and you step to the side silently, giving him permission to go ahead and carry out the sentencing. The former hand of the king would always be a threat to your family. Daemon goes down the steps and, in one swing, slices Otto’s head off with dark sister. You hold back a shriek when blood begins to spread across the marble floor.

Your eyes narrow in on the last person kneeling. “Take Larys Strong to the black cells; keep him in chains until his sentence is carried out tomorrow in the dragon pit.”

—

“You did good,” Daemon praises as you leave the throne room. “Those green cun—”

He was cut off by the handmaiden you spoke with earlier, rushing over to you, her cheeks flushed red. “Princess,” she gasps. “My prince, my lady. Forgive the interruption, but the queen has asked for you to go to the council room immediately.”

You could sense the urgency from Mia without her outright saying how serious the situation was, “Thank you.”

You hold your dress at the front so you can run without tripping, and the three of you rush to the small council pivy. Soon as you enter the room, your eyes are glued to Jace, who is gripping onto the edge of the table, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks enraged.

“My Prince,” you go to him, and his grip on the table is hard; his knuckles turn white while he grabs ahold of something tightly in the other. “Mother, your grace, what's going on?”

Your mother's chest and neck are blotchy from stress; she holds onto her necklace tightly for comfort. There are tears in her eyes as well. The queen struggles to control her emotions as she tries to speak.

“A raven arrived for me,” Jace’s voice cracks. “It was a massage from Aegon; it says ‘a daughter for a daughter, bastard’. He still thinks I took Aemma from him, and now he’s going to take Reni from me.”

You feel as if you’re going to be physically sick. “What?”

“This is Reni’s,” Jace says, opening up his hand, and you shudder at seeing your daughter's doll. “We need to go North immediately.”

When Jace goes to storm out of the room, you catch his arm, preventing him from leaving. “Jacaerys, wait!”

“We cannot wait; he’s going after our little girl.”

You take the doll from his trembling hand. “Rhaenys sobbed when she realized her favorite toy was left behind.” With her name sewn into the doll's dress, anyone could have easily guessed who it belonged to. “Her doll was in our bedchamber.”

“Which means…”

“Aegon is in Dragonstone.”

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon/you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #Jacaerys Velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x you #violent delights #house of the dragon fanfiction #Jacaerys Velaryon/oc #jace velaryon fanfic #Jace Velaryon smut #house of the dragon smut #jace velaryon fanfiction #Jacacerys Velaryon

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maximotts · 8 months ago

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she hates her ⁘ w. maximoff x n. romanoff

brainrot is real and dangerous! This time it manifested in the idea of an enemies to lovers WandaNat AU in which sorority president Wanda and fraternity president Natasha simply can't stand one another, but Nat finds Wanda's weakness and exploits the fuck out of it. I'm planning to write more of them so I hope you all love these sillies in their enemies phase! P.S. if you know why I named this AU what I did, you're a real one 💖

Seven Things AU. masterlist :: Natasha lives to annoy Wanda so naturally, she plans the Spring Barbeque Night on the lawn of Wanda's sorority without asking and counts down the seconds until she comes down to complain

wc: 4k cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters. sorority!Wanda x fraternity!Natasha. smut. oral (n receiving). strap on sex (w receiving). cum strap. copious insults/hate sex. rough play/manhandling. overstimulation. degradation/humiliation. nat has a seriously filthy mouth and calls wanda lots of names. internal discussions of aftercare.

Wanda hated Natasha Romanoff.

She hated her messy red hair and the cocky way she walked around campus, how unshakably full of herself she always was, no matter how much of an asshole she was being any given moment. And she was constantly an ass, a chronic headache from the first day Wanda met her last year…

Currently Wanda hated Natasha’s heavy boots kicking her knees apart each time she moved them together even an inch.

“You want to get off on sucking my dick so bad, it’s pathetic.” Nat couldn’t stop her long groan and didn’t want to, grip tightening in Wanda’s loosely curled hair as she inched her strap further down the other girl’s throat.

If someone told her last month she’d have the most annoying girl she knew knelt in front of her like this, Natasha would’ve laughed them off; they could barely coexist in a room for more than a few minutes without one of them going off on the other.

They’d found a compromise in fucking each other speechless; mostly Wanda who, for all her holier-than-thou attitude towards the other woman, found herself repeatedly powerless for hidden quickies with Natasha.

Wanda could only claw at Natasha’s thighs, any possible harm dulled by the denim jeans Nat didn’t bother removing. She’d add how stupidly brutish Nat was to her ever-growing list of grievances if it didn’t turn her on so damn much.

The moment the fabric of her harness brushed Wanda’s cheek, they both shivered.

“I’m gonna assume no one’s managed to fuck this pretty mouth of yours this deep yet,” the redhead ground her hips against Wanda’s face slowly, letting her head roll back against the door, willfully ignorant to any discomfort the girl before her endured, “or maybe you’re too much of a bitch for anyone else to bother trying.”

Natasha let up and Wanda growled, disgusted gaze glaring daggers at her tormentor. “You don’t have anyone else to screw with, or have all the girls in town grown tired of your womanizer routine?”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up.” Shoving her forward was all too easy with Wanda caught off guard, burying her tip at the back of her throat so roughly Wanda gagged. Nat drove her hips back and forth at a brutal pace, laughing at the brunette’s sputtering, “That’s it, choke on my cock…”

The two were both too stubborn to break eye contact, Wanda’s wide green eyes watering with embarrassment and Natasha shamelessly getting off to her struggle.

She fucked her steadily, both hands now fisted in Wanda’s hair, the poor girl’s face growing pinker every second as she fought to hide just how much being used like this turned her on. It was no use, the sticky mess of the sorority president’s lip gloss and spit leaving kisses on her fraternity counterpart’s harness, sending Wanda into a dizzying frenzy of arousal that wrenched in the pit of her stomach- and lewdly dripped onto Natasha’s boot.

Oh how Natasha wished her phone wasn’t discarded on Wanda’s nightstand; she’d give anything to have photo evidence of their university’s golden student drooling on her strap and trying desperately to rub herself on her laces. “I bet if I shot a load down your throat you’d cum on the spot… wanna try?”

Nat finally let Wanda take a breath, yanking her away in favor of taking the thick toy in her hand, tapping the head onto the brunette’s already waiting tongue as she nodded desperately. She hadn’t bought this toy for anyone particular, never got much use out of it until she stumbled into Wanda’s secret a few weeks ago; now it was quickly becoming her favorite possession.

An accidentally perfect object to drive Wanda insane.

“Are you gonna let us keep our party on your lawn?”

The question snapped Wanda back to attention, suddenly aware of Natasha’s ulterior motives. There was a strange pang of hurt she felt, only for the briefest of seconds, to know what she was being used for, but it quickly morphed into keen anger. “Absolutely not! Go camp out with someone who actually likes you.”

“Stubborn bitch,” Nat muttered, knocking Wanda backwards. She was unsteady enough for her back to hit the floor with a painful thud, wincing as she met the hard wood of her bedroom. Admittedly, maybe that was a little too harsh, Natasha’s hand reaching out to inspect the girl before she caught herself, remembered who they were to one another, and her originally thoughtful touch became a slap for Wanda’s calf.

In an instant she was kneeling, dragging Wanda’s strawberry printed pajama shorts off to get a good look at her handiwork. They were still new to one another, having only really fallen into rage-fueled quickies, this was Natasha’s first time seeing the full effect she had on Wanda and damn if it wasn’t more intoxicating than all the beers she’d drunk tonight combined. “Pretty mouth and pussy, no wonder I’ve heard you’re good to fuck around with.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, doing her best to tamp down how hot she felt being openly inspected like this, ignoring the sparks she felt as Natasha’s hands parted and pawed at her bare thighs. “Don’t be gross, you pass yourself around more in one weekend than I’ve done my entire life.”

“So I know what I’m doing, Maximoff. Don’t forget I almost made you cum without a single touch just now.” If she cared enough Nat would’ve asked her how many people she actually had been with. Wanda had a reputation for being a tease of epic proportions, flirting cruelly with no intent of following through or, if you’re lucky, getting you off, but for as much gossip Nat heard, she couldn’t think of anyone who could say they’d slept with her.

In truth, the girl was picky, refusing to let anyone get farther than she thought she’d enjoy just as much as they did. Unfortunately Natasha not only met that standard, but rose far above it— the only reason she tolerated her insufferable nature each time they ended up like this. “But I didn’t finish, so get on with it. You’re already starting to bore me- ow!”

The last thing Wanda expected was a slap, stinging and wet, between her legs.

“Whenever you speak, you bore me, but I’m still here…” Her strap slid through the other girl’s cunt effortlessly, the weight of it offering the barest bit of much needed friction, but where Wanda raised her hips, Natasha held them down.

When the tip rested at Wanda’s waiting entrance, the shallowest of motions left her biting her lip to keep from begging. She couldn’t admit how badly she wanted this, how intensely she fought not to wrap her legs around Natasha and take the whole of her all by herself, to sate the persistent empty feeling she’d had since Nat pulled their hips together down on the lawn… “And you’re only here to get the answer you want so go ahead, try and convince me.”

Nat was too selfish to give Wanda time to adjust, pushing inside inch by inch while the girl below her gasped and balled her fists at her sides, too arrogant to grab onto Natasha’s stupid toned arms. But bottoming out felt like mutual heaven and as Wanda felt that cool, rough denim rub under her thighs, she gave in and let her legs clamp about her waist.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Nat muttered, drawing out slowly just to surge forward, quickly setting a pace so brutal Wanda couldn’t hope to keep up. “Would’ve let you use your fingers before if I’d known…”

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, eyes fluttering closed. She hated having to get this from someone she couldn’t stand, body betraying her in the presence of the person she wanted to be miles away from, but she forced her brain to submit along with the rest of her, taking her pleasure in a world where Natasha wasn’t a daily thorn in her side.

She needed to feel overwhelmed, overtaken, out of control— Natasha was the only person bold enough to give her what she was after. And she planned to use it to her full advantage. “No? Does perfect princess Wanda need to be fucked like a filthy slut?”

The woman was a mess of moans, doing her best to ignore Nat until calloused fingers gripped her jaw and yanked her back to reality. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me fuck you dumb.”

When their eyes met again, Wanda’s pupils were blown wide, flushed cheeks pinched together under Nat’s grasp, “I asked you a question, answer me or I’ll leave you here and let everyone outside know you’re locked in your room with your fingers deep in your tight cunt, dreaming of my dick.”

Natasha really wished Wanda wasn’t so fucking pretty with her breathy pants and tousled hair framing her face like a halo; it made sex so much harder not giving the girl exactly what she wanted. “Just fuck me, Romanoff. You have a party to get back to.”

“I do? So you’ll let us stay?” Wanda nearly threw a fit when Natasha stopped again, the thought of being denied twice in one night enough to leave her whining. She was someone people rarely said no to, things simply fell into place for her as she wished, but challenging, thick-headed Natasha… dealing with her was akin to rolling a boulder single-handed.

“Yes, yes fine! Keep your crappy party! Let me cum and you can stay the night for all I care-“ Her eyes were wide open now, focused enough to take in Natasha’s shit-eating grin before she pounded into her once more, faster and more determined now that she’d won.

The redhead never had trouble in bed, satisfying whoever she fell into bed with effortlessly; she was reluctant to admit it’d grown repetitive. So when she ran into a drunk and mopey Wanda stumbling down the hall of her fraternity a few weeks back and cornered her with intention to mock her nighttime walk of shame, Natasha was morbidly curious to hear her confess how sexually unsatisfied she was with such plain honesty.

She couldn’t have predicted Wanda ever being in her room, much less sprawling on her bed like she belonged there and bemoaning her plight. “Is it so hard to just cum on my face? You’d think they’d be excited, but nooo all I get is ‘are you sure that’s what you want?’ Of course I’m sure!”

Natasha was so rarely speechless, but of all possible statements, she’d never expected that one.

Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if Wanda’s guard wasn’t lowered by alcohol. If Natasha hadn’t been standing at the foot of the bed in gray sweatpants that so poorly hid the strap she’d been packing, matching sports bra showing off her toned stomach while she proudly proclaimed she’d have no issue granting Wanda what she was after. If Wanda hadn’t crawled across the mattress to Nat and kissed the taut skin right below her navel before taking those cotton pants between her teeth and pulling, staring Natasha down with a ferocity she never imagined would make her feel anything but a primal rage-

But that night played out as it did and now they were here, another evening spent indulging each other in acts they couldn’t ask of anyone else.

Wanda didn’t announce how close she was, didn’t give Natasha the satisfaction of knowing just how good of an orgasm she’d given her— the woman above her still knew. She’d heard Wanda cry out for her before and she’d already come this far: Natasha wouldn’t stop until she had Wanda begging. “You’re supposed to say thank you when I’m nice to you.”

“In your dreams, playboy.”

Fighting words were routine, but the glob of spit landing on Natasha’s cheek colored her vision red. For a moment, the tension in the air felt too thick, bedroom eerily quiet as Nat’s grip flexed into the plush thighs spread before her, clenched jaw only accentuating her dangerous glare. Maybe Wanda would be afraid if she hadn’t hit the exact nerve she’d aimed for.

“Brats like you never behave for long, huh?” Dragging Wanda across the floor, Natasha rammed into still recovering sex, cupping the back of her knee and forcing her leg into her chest while the other stayed trapped against the wood. The new angle was deeper than Wanda had ever been treated to and her choked sob alone almost made up for Natasha being spit on.

Almost.

“Always such an insufferable… ungrateful…” She grumbled, losing her train of thought as her focus dropped down, suddenly fixated on the now drenched toy at her hips stretched around Wanda’s tight hole, ever growing mess close to dripping onto her ass.

Wanda wasn’t new to people staring at her, most days it boosted her already impressive confidence levels, but the way Natasha watched, always sizing her up like prey to be hunted and devoured, that was different. When she wasn’t looking at her with apathy it was contempt, anything to remind Wanda she wasn’t infallible as she thought she was, but this —Natasha so obviously getting off to her, so desperately rocking her pelvis against Wanda’s whenever she bottomed out in search of friction— made the brunette feel craved.

“What’s the matter, run out of insults?” Nat hadn’t noticed her mouth hanging open until it felt dry, snapping out of her lustrous thoughts to lick her full lips. Seconds from verbal retort, she decided on a better course, one equally as selfish as Wanda’s earlier orgasm: she could very easily knock the girl down some much needed pegs while making it worth her time.

“Just wondering how a spoiled little cumslut like you thinks it’s in your best interest to mouth off.” Wanda didn’t have time to be taken aback, Natasha’s sudden change of angle driving her round tip into that elusive spot deep inside over and over; she cursed her drunken self babbling to her rival that she was the only person, including herself, to find it.

“Shit, Romanoff, slow down-!” She thought for sure Natasha wouldn’t remember, had her pegged as the type of lover who had to learn everything over each time, but no, Nat was the opposite and now she knew too much.

“Shut your mouth and play with your tits.” The command was blunt, powerful enough in its delivery that Wanda didn’t question, shaky hands sliding under her shirt while she struggled not to finish her second time unexpectedly early.

She was slow in her touches, too slow for Natasha’s energetic pace, and the loose cotton fabric hid the view; two things Nat instantly got tired of. “Get your damn shirt out of the way, and I don’t want any of your silly shy shit- I told you to play with them.”

Wanda would kill Nat if she ever told a soul she whimpered, would deny having clenched around Nat in response to her exerting control… still she wrenched her shirt over her head as quick as she could and her hands flew back to her chest. She forced her eyes to stay open, smugly committing the sight of Natasha panting in time with her thrusts, light green eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers teasing her dusty pink nipples into hardness.

“You’re such a creep, I bet you’ll be jerking off to this for weeks,” she mumbled, pinching the sensitive peaks between her thumb and forefinger, moaning louder than intended as she matched Natasha’s motions.

Nat huffed, couldn’t bother denying that yes, she would definitely be thinking about Wanda spread wide open and touching herself for a long time. Her partner would to, though, mind wandering to Natasha ordering her around next time she found herself alone and needy.

Wanda made the mistake of watching Nat’s tongue swipe over her lips, traitorous brain wondering what the smooth muscle would feel like instead of her chilly fingertips, how warm and wet her mouth would be if she ever dared to suck—

This time when the dam broke, she was too distracted to censor herself, back arching and body trembling uncontrollably. If Nat’s focus had lapsed for just two seconds she would’ve missed Wanda utter her name, soft and breathy, syllables stuttered as if she pronounced it for the first time. “Aww poor princess, was that too much for you?”

“Go fuck yourself…” The words were weak, embarrassingly so, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to laugh at her attempt.

“Already working on it, smartass,” Nat didn’t falter for a second through Wanda’s second high, meeting wave after wave as the girl finally stopped pretending she didn’t want this just as much and raised her hips with each thrust.

The redhead had long since made a mess of her own underwear, sticky wetness coating the base of her strap to aid her now desperate grinding into Wanda, rubbing her neglected sex against the textured silicone. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when Wanda insisted on mewling so maddeningly, freshly manicured nails digging into Natasha’s sides as she fought overstimulation.

“You’re being too rough-!” Wanda couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice knowing once again it was Natasha who’d rendered her so vulnerable, but this was always her favorite part, being used and treated so carelessly; the thing she and Nat never properly talked about, but knew she needed.

“But I’m so close, don’t you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt?” Nat taunted, bending over so she could kiss Wanda’s temple. “I think you’ve almost been a nice enough fuck tonight to earn it.”

“God, just do it!” Nat was humping against her so hard it hurt, but then the dull sting ebbed in place of a new sensation -two deft fingers rolling over her swollen clit- and Wanda could only briefly process she was well and truly done for before her mind melted away.

“So demanding for someone so needy… try asking nicely.” Fortunately for Natasha’s rapidly approaching orgasm, Wanda didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, submitting with a barely audible please. “Please what, you know what I wanna hear.”

Wanda could slap herself for being so weak later, maybe when she took a shower and realized how she actually loved being made to beg so helplessly. “Please Natasha, please please, I want you to cum in me!”

“Good girl, there’s those perfect manners,” Nat came with a series of grunts, jerkily rutting while she filled Wanda like she’d been thinking of doing since she stomped out of her house and tried to break up their party.

She’d been so angry, shouting and pointing her finger in everyone’s faces, treating her and her friends like they were rowdy kids. The others mumbled apologies, deferring to Wanda like the figurehead she decided she was, but Natasha loved a challenge, especially one she’d planned on having after purposefully planting themselves on the sorority lawn. Nat wasn’t scared of Wanda, not before this arrangement and certainly not after; now she knew exactly how to fix any argument that popped up.

When Natasha finally pulled out, there was a dampness to the front of her shirt and jeans and again, she wanted to reach over for her camera. Instead she settled for sliding her hands to where Wanda was red and oh so wet, abused hole fluttering as their combined arousal leaked out. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste on the floor, two fingers collecting what’d escaped and, much to Wanda’s exhausted surprise, pushing it back in.

“I’m too sensitive for that…” Twisting away was futile, Natasha still firmly planted between her thighs. She had half a mind to kick her until she saw Nat’s free hand angling her cock down, painting Wanda’s lower half with thick ropes of cum while her thumb nudged her hardened bud, and dull throbs of new arousal twisted her stomach into cramps. “Stop-!”

The pleasure in it was fleeting, the pain of exhaustion winning out, but it wasn’t until she sobbed pitifully that Natasha finally glanced up at Wanda’s anguished face and backed off. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine…” Wanda refused to entertain the idea that any bit of Nat’s concern was real; if she dwelled long enough, she’d ruin her afterglow with too many conflicting thoughts. It didn’t matter if the redhead actually cared anyways, her touch, now slowly smoothing over Wanda’s sore hips, started to burn as Wanda came back to her senses. “Just get your hands off me, idiot.”

Natasha could’ve pushed and maybe if it was someone she was supposed to care about she would’ve, but her worry swerved towards brushing off Wanda’s rejection, defaulting back to what they did best: hate each other. “A greedy whore and a squirter, probably a crier too if I bed you on the right day… better hope your secrets are safe with me, princess.”

Her heart dropped thinking about her sex life becoming the latest gossip, but she could only feebly push her away, head twisting to the side just so she could look anywhere but Natasha and her insolent self. “Well you’ve got to have some kind of funny story to tell everyone when you go back the party. I know you’re always low on those.”

Eventually she managed sitting up, stretching out her back and arms, inadvertently giving Natasha one last unobstructed view of her before retrieving her discarded t-shirt and putting it back in place. “Or you could crack open another beer and share how you drool like a baby every time you see my tits, that’s a conversation starter for sure.”

Needing a soft surface for her now aching body, Wanda clumsily climbed into bed, unceremoniously using Nat’s shoulder to lean on as she maneuvered. True, Natasha tended to kiss and tell, but something about doing the same to Wanda felt wrong, at least to be as detailed as she typically was. Maybe it was just the pride she got from being the only person Wanda’s actually fucking; she wanted to keep that for herself.

“Could always come back downstairs with me and we’ll tell them together.” Natasha didn’t need much clean up, zipping her jeans back and standing awkwardly next to Wanda’s now prone form. Neither of them knew how to handle the ‘after’ yet, Nat’s tendency to check in on even her most casual of partners always ignored by Wanda who knew she’d undoubtedly needed that care but couldn’t stomach the possibility of being one in a string of partners.

So they avoided it as much as possible. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever be seen anywhere with you, playboy.”

Wanda felt a different kind of yearning just then, one that dared her to give Nat the option to stay and her cheeks flushed all over again. Her solution was rolling over until her back was to Natasha, steeled herself to stay that way until she was left alone.

Nat sighed, long and audibly irritated, pondering the pros and cons of offering to do something together up here, a calm, private thing where she could sate that instinct to watch over Wanda without explicitly doing just that… but it’d require admitting she wouldn’t mind hanging out with Wanda and she did not want that.

“Sorry, I should’ve said if you wanted to take a night off of being an impossible bitch, you can actually try to enjoy yourself.”

The door closed behind her and Wanda could breathe again, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She felt empty and not only between her legs; unfortunately for Wanda, Natasha was no longer around to take her frustrations out on. “Stupid asshole..”

Eventually her night ended dangerously close to feigning some illness to lure Natasha’s attention back when she fell asleep and Nat’s, uncharacteristically leaving her party alone with the excuse of having forgotten her phone on the Wanda’s nightstand. She certainly didn’t use the opportunity to see Wanda again, surveying her sleep before pulling a blanket over the brunette’s shivering form.

#wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat au #seven things au #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #motts writes.#maximotts

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hollyhomburg · 1 year ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 56)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: In the wake of Namjoon’s rut you and Hobi try to get yourself back on even footing, if only his co workers weren’t so...creepy towards you.

Tags: Depression, anxiety, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, excessive babying, courting, omegaspace, mommy kink, Mommy! Tae, nipple play, m/c sucks on tae’s tits for mental health reasons, Non-detailed sexual content, mentioned omegaspace sex, discussions of past abuse, discussions of mental health issues, eating disorder recovery, implied self-harm

W/c: 9.7k

A/N: LISTEN, i know the nipple play stuff might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it reads very comforting if you’re willing to give it a chance. That being said it may go further into the realm of mommy kink than some of you are willing to go and toes the line into extreme kink as it highly sexualizes Tae’s brests and the m/c in omegaspace. It's not really nursing per say cuz there isn’t any milk involved, but the m/c does suck on tae’s breasts to soothe herself.

I tried to make it as ‘skippable’ as possible it’s under the section ‘Tae, sometime at night’ I firmly encourage you to skip it if you feel the need too.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(16 days post rut. The day after Halloween, Yoongi)

Yoongi lets out an inhuman screech.

He’s holding his sweater in his hands, nude from the waist up interrupted by his changing. Staring at you open-mouthed while Jungkook rolls in the remnants of your nest. Remnants- because you honestly hadn't put it together much after Namjoon's rut.

You’ve been spending the last few weeks slowly bringing everything upstairs, alternating between sleeping spots, not a single one of them still feels right. The pack had kept their mattress in the living room, but yours they'd moved back. Last night you spent your first night upstairs with Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae. Four pups all cute and nesty with the rest of the Halloween candy between the three of you in multicolored bowls.

Yoongi had gotten to watch as you all giggled and completely abused the projector he’d installed for a movie night of the Addams family and some horror movie that you'd changed in the first 15 minutes.

There are more and more moments where he gets to appreciate his hard work these days and he savors them whenever he can. He’d been a little worried that the bed would be too big or too small but it looks just the right size. Just enough space for the others.

After you’d fallen asleep, he’d carefully tiptoed around you and removed the bowls of candy, kissing each of your heads like a special spell to guard your dreams against monsters and cousin it.

Now Jungkook grins up from the last little bit of the nest that’s still down here, hugging a pillow to his chest, “I knew something happened.” It’s not often Yoongi squeaks, like a cat suddenly picked up, heart all in a tizzy just thinking about it.

“What do you mean you and Hobi kissed? And you didn’t tell me!?”

You go red ear to ear, “It wasn’t-I don’t even think he meant to do it- it wasn’t like a kiss kiss-“

“Ahh,” Jungkook drags out the syllable. Reaching for your hand and tugging you to sit. Closer, because Jungkook’s wandering fingers have half a mind of their own. You look so good- have been honestly glowing a bit since Namjoon’s rut, something about the health of you that makes him want to touch more and more.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs appreciatively and you squirm away, “Heat of-the-moment kisses are so hot- not to mention first kisses.”

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed. Knees pulled together. “Tell me everything.”

Yoongi has always been terribly involved in your dating life in the beginning you'd gushed to him about every new kiss. The ones with Jk, a memory now as he drags his mouth up your waist, resting his cheek against the curve of your hips and smiling up at you. The one with Tae in that dressing room, your first soft moments with Jin and Namjoon. Everything. The fact that he hadn't heard about this one immediately after the fact stings only a little,

The rest is clouded over with excitement.

Hobi had initiated kisses. He’d been the one to break first.

Yoongi remembers how their relationship began with coyly phrased jabs said over dusty records not long after he'd broken up with his last pack and moved in. When they’d gone from best friends to sort of roommates and started spending almost every minute together.

Yoongi liked Hoseok. Just liked him. Liked seeing him smile. Heart skipping beats and saving them for him. Spending hours standing just far enough apart with some sleazy jazz playing over the loudspeakers and Hobi’s lips all mischievous. Their first kiss hanging there, on the edge, just where Yoongi could see it but not have it just yet. Teasing him endlessly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me Hoseok,"

"You'll know when I'm flirting hyung."

Hobi had turned off the jazz and turned on Yoongi’s favorite music instead and Yoongi had been substantially wooed just by that.

Hobi had been shy with the rest of the pack. Freer with Yoongi he said, because he always knew where he stood with him. Not like with the other alphas where Hobi had to worry about showing his throat or not- or Jungkook and Jin- where he had to worry if he has too dominant or not dominant enough. Their firsts had felt truly new, untied of expectations. Just loving. None of the other stuff.

Sometimes, Hobi still feels this way.

Now Yoongi watches you and knows how it feels, the way your eyelashes flutter as you look down and away, flopping back against the nest scent going sweet with the memory of it. "I bet it was so hot-" Koo chimes kicking his feet when he rolls onto his tummy and continues to pinch at your thighs, hand sliding up gradually under your baggy pajama shorts. Tickling the hairs there.

"Hobi’s such a good kisser too-“ The omega swoons and your belly swoops at the sound.

Yoongi licks his lips, trying not to think of it.

"It wasn't hot, it wasn't anything-" But the blush on your cheeks tells a different story. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "I shouldn't have said anything." Yoongi gently pries your hands away from your face. His heart is racing a mile a minute like it's his first kiss and not yours.

"Even if it was something, I’d still be happy sweetheart.”

You bite your cheek; I just want to know if he regrets it. “I can’t ask him about it or I’ll make it weird.” You whine.

Jungkook’s fingers press into your chin, he looks awfully devilish, hair damp from a shower, his classes for the day passed. “You’ve been thinking about it a lot. That’s why you’ve been so quiet.”

You flush, but not for the reason he thinks.

The truth is you’ve been spending a lot more time on your own these days, painting the back-room space and finding excuses to head upstairs when everyone’s home, or downstairs when everyone goes up. There’s no reason. You tell yourself there’s no reason but-

Sometimes it’s hard, being sad without a cause. A gnawing emptiness like there's no point in enjoying anything anyways when sooner or later the rug will be yanked out from underneath you. A sense of a foreshortened future. An end that is simultaneously ridiculous to consider and yet nearby like a shadow in the corner of your eye that isn't there- not really.

Maybe it would be easier if you and Yoongi weren’t mated yet, and you’d have had that to look forward to. You’ve been thinking about mating marks a lot recently. Spending long hours looking at yours in the mirror, fingers hovering over the glass when you pull back blocking out parts of it with your fingertips. The parts that Geumjae left that you’ll never be able to quite get rid of.

You asked Jin about his and Namjoon’s the other day- but the omega had only sighed and told you not to worry about it.

You eagerly snap up the excuse handed to you now. It's better having them assume than explaining the real reason to them. For the most part, they believe you. Like there isn’t that taught line of something running through you like the very essence of you wants to snap. A discomfort at being happy.

A feeling like maybe, you don't deserve it.

If there is anything you deserve it’s certainly not Hobi’s smile when he comes home and asks you if you’ll help him move a few more plants in from outside. “You’ve got a good eye” he tells you. “I swear without you and Tae this place would look like a bachelor pad”

Hobi hasn’t been avoiding you since the rut but maybe it would be easier if he was.

He’s no less likely to ask you for late-night car rides, no less likely to bump shoulders with you playfully over dishes or offer you his headphone when he found you dozing two nights ago on the outdoor furniture. Your big blue blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders to keep out the fall chill.

He’d even accepted you when you held back the edge for him to get under. The warmth from his body trapped by it and transferred to yours as you talked. Mostly about Hobi’s job; his plans to leave early and help manage a specialty order from the city; nearly three thousand burgundy roses for a fall wedding.

“How do you even fit that many into a car?”

“Very, very carefully”

Last night as the pack had handed out Halloween candy, He’d been giggly and close. Eager to pick your favorite candy out of the bowl of bulk-bought candy bars and set them aside for you. He’d even given you a pair of little devil ears, similar to the halo on Tae’s head, a vision in a light pink dress that she’d been just itching to wear. The only one truly dressed up, the only one with the energy to go all out.

The fabric was soft and silky with cutouts for her body, which had you looping your hands around her waist at every available opportunity and maybe kissing places hidden when you’d helped her undress later, hands sneaking underneath the fabric just to touch.

No one had time to plan their outfits or decorate the house because of Namjoon’s rut. You improvised with eyeliner lined and drawn whiskers on Yoongi’s cheeks, grumbling half-heartedly as Tae dotted his nose with bright pink blush and attached a pair of cat ears to his head.

The one person who hadn’t escaped Hobi’s costumes was Noddle, hissy in his little black and yellow bee costume, you’d given him tuna as a special treat. The neighborhood kids had ooohd and ahhed at him in the window, grumpily guarding your house from any intruders.

It’s funny, noodle only hisses at the people dressed up as other cats.

Independent from your musings, your packmates hover on the edge of the bed. “who says you can’t ask him? Just talk to him-“ Yoongi tries to convince you.

"We can ask him for you!" Both of them pop up, their eyes all wide, matching black heads all fuzzy, your mate bobs his head, the picture of polite eagerness.

"Oh fuck no- You'll do no such thing-"

“Come on, let us play matchmaker with you."

A loud ring interrupts your conversation, coming from deep within the confines of your nest. It’s Yoongi's phone- discarded. Jungkook grins as he answers for him, smirking all the while.

"Hyung! We were just talking about you- No it's fine, Joonie forgot his lunch too-" Jungkook playfully shoves away Yoongi’s hand reaching for his phone. He pauses as Hobi says something on the other line.

Jungkook’s grin is nothing if not scheming.

"Yoongi's busy right now," he licks his lips, eyes on you. Yoongi is certainly not busy, the only thing he had planned for today was bringing Namjoon his lunch, another stop is hardly too much.

"But Y/n's free, I’ll have her drop it off. Bye, hyung. Love you too hyung."

~-~

Hobi is drawn to the front room of the flower shop because it’s his break time, someone forgot the last box of roses out back, and also because one of his coworkers is shouting again.

It's a semi-normal occurrence by any standard of measurement, but still, the sound of his shrill voice shouting in protest is just as grating as the feeling of dirt under Hobi’s fingernails.

They're sensitive and pricked too, he's spent the better part of the morning prepping the red roses, bundles, and bundles of them. The last one

He pauses, ignoring the commotion for as long as he can to take a sip of water, The cold drips down his throat, soothing the heat there. It might be cold at night but the lot out back is still unforgiving in the autumn sunlight, the occasional breeze telling stories of knit blankets and cozy sweatpants that Hobi will need within the month. He can’t wait for it to get colder.

The flower shop is structured in layers. The breakroom with the cubbies, a dilapidated old fridge, and a small table directly off the lot. A narrow hallway connects it first to the stock room and then to the counter and the retail space out front. The commotion comes from the stock room. The sound of a box falling over with a loud clang and then the softer sound of people arguing in hushed tones.

Three of his coworkers- two of which are the same ones who don't like him- shove each other to get through the door. One holding around the other middle.

"No, I've got this one-" Hobi stoops to pick up a roll of orange-red ribbon, half unrolled on the dusty floor.

"Come on- I took the granny for you this morning you owe me-"

"You're an omega, Felix."

"So? Like being a horndog is a uniquely alpha affliction?"

"Too late!" The third one darts through the door. Unencumbered by the other's scuffle. Tossing a kiss over his shoulder at the other two. Their frustrated groans resounding a hissed whisper. "Chan! You've already got an omega you don't need two-”

At his appearance, both of his coworkers straighten up. "What’s all the fuss about?" he asks with a tired sigh. Not that he really wants to make conversation with them about what client they're thirsting over this week. Hobi has never joined in with them, their near-running commentary on who comes into the shop.

“A pretty client.” It's nothing new, but what is new is the way that Hyunjin rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Pretty is not a word reserved for the hottest omega I’ve seen this year- she looks like Kate Moss and Zendaya had a love child with an angel-" he swoons, Hobi sighs and pushes through them to put the ribbon back on its holder. They probably knocked it off in their scuffle, his two coworkers practically fall through the door after him.

Hobi blinks.

It's just you, standing in the doorway looking at the hanging epiphytes and other little suncatchers that hand in the flower shop windows. You’re wearing one of Tae's big sweaters that fall to your upper thigh and a pair of semi-translucent leggings. When your hands go up to touch a suncatcher Hobi can tell you’re wearing shorts underneath, but the implication that you might be not is still there. There’s A little bit of flour on your front from whatever you were baking today.

The first thing he notices is a band-aid on your finger.

His sleazy coworker lays it on thick, leaning over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. You don’t seem to realize that he’s snuck up on you. Hobi watches as you flinch and step back, clutching a small pink package to your chest. Turning around quick.

Hobi swallows back a growl. Instincts grating.

"Can I help you find anything beautiful?” he drawls, casting you a dazzling grin that Hobi's sure has gotten him many first date.

"I was just-" Hobi drops a bouquet of roses into a nearby bucket with a loud thud. Your eyes shoot up, and Hobi sees the visceral way your shoulders relax, the way you instantly brighten.

"Hey! I got your lunch."

Hobi's coworkers splutter. Gazes darting between you and Hobi like they can’t make sense of it. “What?!" One of them hits him on the shoulder playfully like they're friends and Hobi's jaw ticks. "Yeah, Hobi what the fuck-"

Hobi's fingers are still on the roses as he looks at you, he doesn't tear his eyes away for a second, "She's my newest packmate," they've got a good sense to be embarrassed to try and recoup the situation.

“Oh- we didn't think Hobi could have such pretty packmates."

Oh, you don't like that one bit.

Your switch flips, Hobi sees you make the conscious decision to turn on the part of yourself that can be very charming, that makes his alpha ask ‘how high?’ if you even think about asking him to jump. You're very good at playing this game, encouraging their instincts out in just a few words.

You step closer looping your arm through Hobi's (He swears he won't be thinking about it later, how you push your body up against his just so, the faint warmth of your chest surrounding his upper arm, your fingers weakly tangling through his) You tilt your mating mark into the light so that they see it. tucking your hair behind your ear like you’re shy. your sleeve falls down, leaving your scent gland open to the bear air.

"You've obviously never met Jin then.” You pout up at him in mock distress, making it as cute as possible. “but- I would have thought he'd have told you all about me what with the car I gave him."

Hobi doesn’t believe your sudden sniffle for a second even though his face heats. And renewed incredulity hits their faces, near devastation that their written-off coworker has a packmate like this.

You blink back faux tears, “Did you not like it?” there is nothing cuter than a pretty pouty omega near crying because they think they've disappointed their alpha. Nothing that tugs on their instincts quite like this.

The men blink dumbly. This creature- is surely representative of another life, one that they hadn’t imagined for their coworker. Surely when they called Hobi a sugar baby, this isn’t what they had in mind.

"He talks about it so much!"

"I swear everyone slows down when they see it which is why the boss lets him park it out front."

"It's a really pretty car like really pretty," Felix says, eyes definitely not on your face but oh well.

Hobi grasps his little lunchbox hard, wrapped up in one of Tae's pink patterned silk scarves. Too intimidated to respond. You have them wrapped around your fingers in just a few words.

"Show me the flowers?" you offer, clearly done conversing with them, Hobi takes the easy out without a look in his coworkers’ direction.

The slick of the refrigerator doors slides close, blocking out the three of them clearly peering in. Your closeness is disguised by the condensation on the glass. Let them think something more of the way you stand close.

The mask falls in a second and where one moment you’d looked forcefully cute, the next, you just look tired.

"You're a menace."

You huff, wrapping your arms around your waist. "Only when I need to be"

"You didn't have to do that." He says because he doesn't know exactly what to say. How to express that he’s thankful without making it weird. Now that you've stepped away from the others there’s something vaguely wilted about you, something still. He’s noticed the last few days, since Namjoon’s rut if he’s being honest.

The truth is, nothing's been normal after Namjoon's rut.

The first day after Namjoon’s rut you’d avoided each other's company like the plague, fielding Namjoon’s numerous apologies and in general clingy behavior. But after a day or two you'd reached an unspoken agreement to just forget everything that had happened just like Jimin and Tae.

(That's a lie. Jimin and Tae have slept on opposite sides of every bed they've slept in in the last week.)

Hobi’s not sure why he thinks that there's something wrong, why he finds himself watching you and waiting. Measuring your plate at dinner for maybe the first time in weeks. Watching you when you cook, just…. keeping an eye on you in a way he might not have before.

Is it just him, or have you seemed less interested in cuddling and nesting as usual? There's something in you that just wants to get the nest in the upstairs over and done with and back to normal. Hobi had watched while he'd helped bring the countless blankets up there, every one of your movements rehearsed and perfunctory.

And yesterday, he’d walked into your room (your old room he should call it) And found you and Yoongi deep in conversation, sitting on the edge of your bed. And when Hobi had asked Yoongi had just said, “We’re gonna keep the nest in here for a few more days.” You'd ended up turning your bed around and tucking it into the wall by your dresser, making room for Tae's makeup desk.

At first, He thought that maybe he’d hurt you with his leaving. That you took it as an ultimate rejection of not only your friendship but your presence in the pack. But it seems like you’re as determined as he is to keep things as they were before. To act as though your relationship is just as it was. Just this. packmates that bring each other lunch and give each other cars and definitely step closer to make Hobi's nosey coworkers a little jealous.

Strange. All of it feels strange like deja vu. There’s a familiar stillness that he hasn’t seen in you in months really, not since late spring. Since before you started talking again only this time he's seeing the process in reverse.

You tap the lunch box with your fingertips, a faint flush coming to your cheeks, “Yoongi made it for you, not me.”

“Does it matter?” you flush harder, skin heating under his raised eyebrow,

“Yes.”

Hobi thinks your hands might be shaking a little bit when you gesture to the shelves piled high with flowers and buckets. "Which ones are your favorite anyway?" you ask, classic misdirection.

A few weeks ago Hobi had convinced his boss to order the flowers by color and not type to make arranging and picking out designs easier. Granted, Hobi is her most talented employee and the one she trusts most to handle their big-budget items like weddings and funerals so it was a relatively short argument.

This refrigerator is a mess of cream pinks, whites, and yellows. The big dinner plate-sized sunflowers hovering around your knees, and the dusty roses at the ceiling.

He points at the simple daisies, is it just his imagination, or do you make your giggle just a little bit louder, leaning into his arm. Hobi swears one of his coworkers is going to burst a blood vessel with how hard he's trying to contain his screech of indignation. You just grin and roll your eyes.

“Are you trying to make my life easier or harder?” He can’t stop his smile though, no matter how much he wants to.

“A bit of both probably.” You lean in close, the way an omega would to an alpha they were flirting with. Let them wonder what we’re saying, let them wonder what I mean by this. Your fingers dance over a nearby bucket, skimming the velvet soft blooms, “I would have pinned you for a Lily type of guy."

Hobi fingers one of the long stems, playing with it too. "Nah, these are Jungkook’s favorite, not mine." Hobi's shy when it comes to you, but still, he musters up the courage to take a spare bloom of daisy and tuck it behind your ear.

"As a thank you, for my lunch. Jungkook shouldn’t have made you come all the way here."

You shrug, "It’s no big deal. I- ugh- i put a few chocolates in there, the coconut ones." You might have noticed Hobi grabbing some last night, and he gravitated toward those in the big bowl of Halloween candy. Seeking out the little blue packages.

"I like those," he says, but you already know that.

There’s a loud crash, and when you look back Hobi’s coworkers have knocked one of the dysplays over in their quest for a better vantage point. they scramble to put it back together and look busy like they weren’t watching you.

Chan gives him a thumbs up and Hobi scoffs.

“I’m sorry for them.” He says, “They’re kind of always like this,” his jaw ticks. Some alphas have no manners.

You shrug, “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Are those the same ones that say shit about you behind your back?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate for a moment, standing toe to toe with him. “We should give them something else to talk about then.” Hobi’s hands are hard on the lunch box.

You step closer. Your worn boots brushing his sneakers as you lean up on your tippy toes. The scent mark looks more intimate that it is as you lightly drag your cheek down Hobi's neck. You know how to make it look sensual.

His caramel scent and your baked one together smell like flan or maybe something vaguely that belongs in the family of a Snickers bar, sparking hot and heady. Filling the refrigerator with it and the smell of flowers. He catches your waist, alarmed but not entirely displeased.

It has the desired effect.

Hobi sees the other alphas, the way their egos deflate. Tail tucked between their legs. Immediately looking dejected. Hobi barely has time to process your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck, the way you sway closer before you're darting away.

He catches you just before you pass back through the refrigerator doors (you should know better than to run from an alpha, there's hardly anything more exciting than the prospect of a chase). A real giggle fills the small space making the other 3 perk up. Hobi can’t stop himself from smiling even if he feels a little dizzy.

He catches your hand, tugging you a little bit back. “Hang out with me? Later?”

The stillness in you eases just a little, and your smile is twice as bright as the sunflowers. “Sure.”

He lets your hand go even though he doesn't want to, even though you could eat together. He imagines it; sitting in his car, Yoongi’s parked out front, you in his passenger seat having a few of those chocolates. But you have no reason to stay and keep him company through his lunch break.’

Hobi is too shy to ask.

Before you pass through the door you pause, looking at the suncatchers that hang by the windows again. Reaching out a finger to touch one so that rainbows swirl through the room. The sun's light misdirected to spill and swirl in a dizzying display of color. The door clangs closed with a faint jingle.

He sets his hand over the back of his hot neck. Heart thundering, something in his instincts relaxes by having you out the door and away from his other...competitors. They instantly descend on him, badgering him with countless questions.

“I didn’t know you could pull like that hyung," "How did you even meet?" does she have a sister?" "Does she have a favorite type of nesting supplies?”

Hobi shoots that last one a glare. "I think she's got everything she needs in that department." he says tightly.

He’d have thought your mating mark would be enough of a deterrent. The fact that it isn’t makes him even more annoyed if that's possible. They don’t get a single answer out of him- just the freezer door closed and locked in their faces. He sits there to eat his lunch, glaring at them through the foggy doors.

When he opens his lunchbox, he sees that you've shoved 7 chocolates into a space that should only logically fit 5. Rows of sliced meat and a dollop of sauce over rice in the shape of a heart. A sandwich just the way he likes it, cut-up fruit too, probably a whole pint of Strawberries cut into little hearts.

(The other alphas don't stand a chance.)

~-~

(Tae, Some time later)

Autumn brings with it lazy nights and the need for more blankets. You often find yourself curled up on the couch in Tae's room. Alternating between watching the autumn rain drip from the eves, going on tic-tock, napping, and watching Tae work at her desk. Sometimes on work nights, she's got her hair set into little pin curls, or a face mask on.

It's kind of silly that you can spend just hours watching her but you are that in love.

Her typing is gentle, a companion to the pitter-patter of the rain and the tv in the other room. Someone talking, someone showering, the faint thump thump thump of your heart, noodle meowing to be let in from outside, homey domestic and Awfully lonely.

It’s silly, you shouldn’t feel alone with Tae right there.

You stir sometimes, stretching your feet out and yawning. Cheek resting on the pillow. "I can shut the light if you want" Tae says, recognizing the feeling like she's being watched. She doesn’t turn because she knows it's you.

"No, I'm not tired" but the slow rising of your chest says something different. You've let the blanket slip off of you a little bit, folding your body onto her small couch fitting just barely. She rolls herself over to you to fix it and tuck it around your feet. Then goes back to writing.

"You've been typing one thing for a long time now”

Tae hums, agreeing. Pausing for a second and going back to delete one sentence and replacing it with another before her cursor moves on stepping in time with the clack of her fingers. She's gone with a shorter manicure this time to make typing easier, smooth little almonds that flash like fish scales. Pretty and pearlescent.

“You were writing the same thing yesterday and the day before that too. Is it a story?" you ask. Tae likes how you always ask that first, is it a story or a poem, by stanza or by prose. Which part of your soul are you working on today? is it more comfort or a bit of hurt?

Her fingers hesitate, "it is." She admits. “I’ve got like, maybe 30,000 words of it written already but yeah, it’s a story.”

“You don't write stories often."

she tips her head in agreement. "What could I add to the world you know? there are so many good books out there," she sighs heavily, "But-" she trails off, eyes full of faraway faces and a love that maybe feels a little bit like yours and Hobi’s. She always was better at catharizing her emotions about their relationships by comparing them to others. Namjoon and Jin are all Claire and Jamie. Yoongi and Hobi Westley and Buttercup.

But You and Hobi are something different. Maybe she took hobi's advice and found another outlet for her feelings about you two rather than get involved. then again, the main male character is actually a lot more like jungkook sometimes when he speaks.

Bits and pieces of Tae’s loves and muses are all over the story, but the main character? She’s all you.

"What's different about this one?" You ask, hair spilling over your shoulders in an uninterrupted tangle that has Tae itching for a brush. You'd tried her pin curls out a few nights ago but had complained about the pinching so Tae quiets the part of herself that wants to use you as her own mini dress-up doll.

"Usually my emotions are brief, but" she presses her palm to her chest, "I have all this pain here. All of this pain and all of these thoughts and I don't think I know what to do with it besides write it down." You pull yourself up and closer to her, phone slipping out of your lap and sliding onto the carpeted floor. But Tae’s smile is already comforting even if it is a little sad.

She wheels herself over again and presses her lips to yours, your needy fingers almost instantly find her waist, the way you grab at her when you want to cuddle. Tae knows your body language so well.

"It’s not something you can make better darling," she says, and she means it, the way she looks at you means she means it. "But I think- I think giving it to other people might make it better, a little."

You lean your cheek into her palm, sleepily sighing. "What’s it about?"

Tae launches into the beginning, and the rest is history. She talks about her own story the same way that she talks about the books she reads. Fast and excited, like it's right there in front of her eyes on a movie screen.

“It starts with a library- only it’s not like a normal library. This library is kind of magic-”

~-~

(Namjoon, 7 days after rut)

In the wake of Namjoon's rut, all of the alphas have been feeling their instincts a little more keenly; this has expressed itself in only one behavior one that you didn't think you'd see the return of after it had sort of calmed down at the beginning of your relationship.

You don’t know how to feel about the fresh return of the courting presents.

But with the nest upstairs, you suppose that you don't mind the veritable collection of new nesting pillows, blankets, and specially made Egyptian cotton sheets for your Alaskan king-sized mattress- courtesy of Jimin. In a variety of colors of course; black for his preference, and pink for Tae’s.

Namjoon doesn't like being one-upped by anyone. Although his gift takes several more days to arrive and set up. (Yoongi stayed up the night before with Namjoon to help set it up because Namjoon is notoriously bad about any sort of home improvement let alone when there's an Allen wrench and six pages of instructions involved)

You giggle as Namjoon's fingers tamp over your eyes. He almost steps on the back of your heels with how close you're walking. "Here, there's a wall" You reach out and help him lead you so that the surprise isn't spoiled. Bright shafts of light slip through his fingers.

"Joonie-"

"Here, step down- there you go pup. Here-"

Namjoon takes his hands from your eyes and resists the urge to bounce up and down, your wide blinks, your suddenly sweet scent all of it, soothing to the cloying discomfort of instincts not expressed in his chest. Lips parted into a cute little oh.

You're in the backroom, the last coat of paint was finished yesterday and the pack has gone to work putting it together with the new velvet green couch and many of Hobi's plants. But what you don't expect is the item just left of the door.

The nesting couch, or more correctly nesting pod has high walls that peak at the top somewhat like an onion. The interior of it is upholstered with smooth non-irritating fabric and a thick cushion at the base and up part of the walls. a soft little bowl almost like a human-sized dog bed (a pup bed).

A small dark soft space, perfect for nesting. With a little curtain that you can zip closed, that should enswathe you entirely in darkness. The interior of it is Piled high with a new duvet and more than a dozen new pillows (all freshly scented) like a bowl of colorful candies. Some of them are vaguely stuffed animal shaped and a few actually are stuffed animals.

You blink down at the croissant and the cake, the disembodied blueberry.

“Jungkook might have helped me pick them out, he went a little over the top.” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s rut or a” he coughs, “first knotting present, I guess. As a thank you and an I’m sorry for biting you present.” Namjoon shifts back and forth, feeling vaguely nauseous but in a love-sick sort of way. “Do you like it?”

Nesting nooks are expensive gifts, this one alone must have been several thousand dollars. Although Namjoon's anxiety ticks higher as you continue to not say anything. Staring at it and blinking like you can’t believe it’s there. “I thought you could maybe, use a bit of space because of the upstairs, I know you’re used to nesting on your own.” Yoongi had told him about your need to keep your downstairs nest still set up. You know the second the sentence slips past his lips that they've talked about it, that Namjoon’s worried.

It's nothing personal you just, you feel like you might need a little spot, like Tae does for her library room, a little spot that's just yours. A spot for you to be quiet

And Namjoon's just given you it.

Your mouth twists and Namjoon tilts your jaw up to his so that he can duck in close and nose along your hairline. "Hey I didn't mean-"

You take the nearest cushion and crush it to your chest, this one the shape of a graham cracker. "I love it." Your gaze darts away, heart in your throat. "Can I? Try it out?"

Namjoon steps aside hastily, watching as you ease inside it. Pulling yourself into the dark cavern. it’s soft and comfy. protected in a way that has you instantly feeling hazy. Quiet and mostly scentless, the noises from outside Dampened, the feeling of everything butter soft beneath your fingers.

It's so safe here.

You start to knead a pillow, softly, the way that noodle might. Flopping over onto your side. Back against the cushion wall. Rolling a little in it. And a slow purring slowly fills the room, soft and first, and then stronger. You rub your scent across the border, making it smell like yours.

Namjoon drops to his knees and watches you. when he sticks out his hand you nuzzle into it, cheeks pink, scent omegaspace sweet. you chirp happily and he smiles down at you.

“There you go pup.”

~-~

(Tae, sometime at night)

(Content warning)

Namjoon isn’t the only one who's gotten you courting gifts recently.

Tae presents yours to you with pink cheeks, the small rectangle pretty when you unwrap it, green warn fabric, and embroidery on the cover.

It’s a copy of Alice and Wonderland, delicately illustrated with watercolor splotches of characters on every other page. It smells like vanilla the way that Jimin smells like vanilla, the musk of it soft and smooth.

The next time you get small and pupish Tae reads to you, her soft voice lulling you into a softer, smaller headspace. So fuzzy that you can’t feel your toes, mind dumbly repeating ‘mommy, mommy mommy’ with little else on your mind.

Page after page of pictures that your wide eyes follow without so much as a word, small whines when Tae pauses to see if you’ve fallen asleep yet tell her everything she needs to know about if it had been a good decision or not. the right gift.

Tae is the only alpha in the pack that can give you this, who can trigger omegaspace in you with as little as a raised eyebrow.

She has a fantastic reading voice. She and makes the voices of the white rabbit and the mad hare just funny enough to have you huffing soft giggly purrs.

It's not the last book she gets you. Far from it, over the next few weeks, you quickly fall into a routine: after dinner, she’ll find you in the nesting nook, in your room, or in the bathroom washing up. And she’ll pull you in the direction of the library room and produce another wrapped volume. Some of them illustrated and some not.

You’ll curl up together on the couch, one ear pressed to her heartbeat, another that inches to hear her words and a soft croons. Her hair tickling your forehead where it lingers, just around her shoulders. Grown out now and faster since she started to use a fancy hair serum.

There are other, slightly more scandalous times, when you squirm at certain parts, unable to find a properly soothed position. When you turn to nuzzle into her shoulder. Nosing along her collarbones and searching for something that makes Tae’s chest tight in all the best ways. Bright eyes glassy, too shy to ask for what you wanted.

What you needed.

The first time you’d face planted into her chest into her barely there but steadily growing tits. She’d laughed, the skin there new feeling and vaguely sensitive. Little white stretch marks shine like a silver lining over the hem of her lace top.

“You looking for something pup?” she’d teased, she wasn’t necessarily surprised after all, you hadn’t been looking at the book for a few minutes, watching her soft inhale and exhale. The faint imprint of her nipples under the shirt.

“Can- can I” you’d stuttered, words too hard for you to string together, looking down at Tae’s chest, fingers bunching up the fabric of her dove-colored night dress.

Being in omegaspace is easier than being totally up these days. Tae knows you need this, without saying why, something is going on in your head that seems too big for it, something that makes you listless and quiet when no one’s around. There’s a reason- there has to be.

her hand cups your cheek and directs your gaze to her face and not her chest, and you blush, having been caught looking. “Good pups use their words, honey, even if they’re feeling small and needy.”

You struggle when you pull back, sorting through your pupils brain is a difficult task when preoccupied with Tae, mommy, want, pretty, mommy alpha smells so nice, looks so safe.

“Can I- can I put my mouth on Mommy?” heat laces down her chest, a fire like none other that has her body growing warm everywhere you touch, the smooth line of your inner thigh pressed to hers, your stomach as you inhale to whine. You squirm away from the embarrassment of asking for something so taboo.

Her hand grips your waist, and you know you aren’t going anywhere.

“Take what you need pup.”

Her spaghetti straps are down around her shoulders before you can blink, dress rucked down to her rib cage. Her chest has swelled so prettily from the hormones her nipples little puffy peaks. She’s maybe a b cup at best but your mouth waters, a whine slipping from your lips without you trying to summon it.

Tae guides you to them with her hand threaded through the hair on the back of your head. Fingers rubbing soothingly against your scalp and oh

With Tae so close, you can smell all of her. It’s so natural when your mouth guides into a suck, Hot and gentle where she’s sensitive. Your nose nudges against her skin taking deep lungfuls of her scent, greedy in the way that you curl around her body. Your brain is truly quiet for the first time in months. Resting your head in the crook of her elbow.

Tae sighs and stretches out while you settle. It’s not exactly not sexual but intimate, the attention at her chest isn’t something that makes arousal stir in her stomach, not when it's like this. Sucking softly, never too hard, with the same pressure that you might mouth at a soft blackberry, lips teasing but only just teasing.

She picks back up the book and keeps reading, ignoring the way her breath hitches with every harder suck.

There is something about tucking your face close, hands tangling in her dress, that feels like the most natural expression of your dynamic. The way she pets over your shoulders and reads to you while you set down your heavy worries. Clinging to her until your fingers go slack and your sucking slows. Lips parting to let out soft sleepy breaths across her sensitive skin and Tae knows you’ve fallen asleep.

Tae is the only alpha who can give you this.

After the first time, all bets are off.

Tae often finds you tugging at her top at dinner time, fingers curious and needy on her ribcage, unwilling to touch where you need to under the gaze of so many other.

Bending under the need, the haze of omegaspace tugging at you, begging for the couch and her in the green room. It’s especially bad if she wears anything low-cut. You’re squirmy in her lap during movie nights, a little breathless any time she hugs you (she might be a little mean and tug you up so that you're face to face with the object of your desire)

You're more than a little nervous around the rest of the pack.

But she agrees this is a secret. A habit that should be just yours. Tae never would have said there would be anything too intimate to share with them after coming out but maybe this is.

One time and one time only does Jimin accidentally walk in on you,

Namjoon is close behind, she isn’t sure what their reasons are. Luckily your head is blocked by a blanket and Tae only has to hiss a “get out” for them to turn tail and run. Thankfully, they hadn’t prodded that much about it later.

It’s not always so innocent, sometimes Tae’s thigh presses up between your own guiding you into a slow grind or her fingers wander, gently parting your thighs and pressing up and under your sleep shorts. fingers curiously exoloring between your thighs insistent to taste your pleasure in the air and hear your needy moans.

But every time you stop sucking, she stops touching. leaves her fingers just there tugging on your clit or just around them. Caught between a rock and a hard place, as you keep going, looking up at her, hips jerking against her fingers. Your sucking near frantic as you cum and Tae's wicked smile and mean laugh above you as you gush and drip around her fingers. rubbing gently over your clit at the same rhythm which you suck.

Worse are the times that she says, “Mommy’s turn” with a smile on her face. Switching your positions entirely. Holding your wrists so that you can’t try and cover yourself as she licks and sucks with abandon. Rubbing your frustrated tears away with her thumbs as she sucks at your nipples until they’re bitten and sensitive. So sensitive that you feel them every time they rub against your shirt, constantly distracting you and reminding you of her touch.

There is something about you needy and squirmy in omegaspace, dripping messy all over her nightdress, upset and tearful at being teased for so long that makes Tae’s alpha purr, makes her almost addicted. Those moments usually end with her cumming over your tummy and you grinding one out against her face or her thigh and once, her tits.

She’s cum on yours before, had you hold up her skirt like a good girl, standing there with your nipples wet from her mouth to let her jack off all over you. listening to you babble about how pretty her cock looks, how beautiful she is, it never takes her long.

The walk of shame to the bathroom had drawn the stares of quite a few of your packmates, Jimin had nearly walked into a wall as Tae led you upstairs for a shower.

It's intoxicating being needed, being the bearer of your needy whines and these delicate moments. When one nipple gets too sensitive and Tae transfers you to another, cheeks pink, lips wet and kissable, tasting like Tae's skin when she leans down. fussy, unwilling to be parted from her for even a second.

Tae looks and feels her most beautiful with her chest sucked pink, nipples glossy from your mouth when you inevitably fall asleep like that. And Tae has to pull up her dress and call for one of the alphas to help carry you to the nest like you weren't just doing something so salacious

When you’re alone, and your fingers instantly gravitate towards the buttons on her blouse, needy whines mean only one thing as you struggle to unfasten the buttons. Fingers clumsy from your wanting.

"My sweet little pup, so cute and needy for mommy that you can't even wait for a second, what am I going to do with you?"

~-~

(Hobi, the same day as before)

Not many people use the beach this late in the season. The businesses on the boardwalk are half-boarded up now that the tourist rush is over and half of the lights are empty and vacant of their usual neon splendor.

But maybe if Yoongi were here, he’d say that this is the way that you and Hobi flirt. With jabs back and forth like crashing waves. Jests of Are you tired yet? and not at all as you run and giggle, splashing through the dark waves. Happy and zoomy in the way that dogs get when you give them wide open spaces to run. Until the late hour drags your bones down and exhaustion makes you giggly and innocent. The way you and Hobi maybe never get to be when you’re not alone with each other.

But you can trust him, with your sensitive parts and your darkness too.

The beach is quiet at night, the hem of your pajama pants soaked 3 inches up from the cold water. Your shoes sit discarded in the sand and the cold salt air tickles your forehead and your bare toes. A pair of headphones between the two of you tangle in the sand like a string of fate. You bob your head to Hobi’s most recent favorite song and shiver.

Hobi notices and starts to shuck off his jacket, thick sweatshirt balmy underneath. You make a noise in protest but he doesn’t listen. His next words a mess in the middle of so much base, “I’ve got more meat on my bones than you do.”

You take his headphone out of your ear. “You sure?”

“Yeah,”

You ease into the warmth like it’s what you’ve been waiting for, and Hobi pulls himself closer to you to block the wind. You know you'll smell like him tomorrow morning, that the others will hover and breathe deep, appreciating your combined scents.

The moon is bright tonight, casting everything in shimmery pools of silver. You can see him in near-perfect blue-grey detail. It’s what drew you out tonight, the promise of an extra high tide and the glittering splendor of the ocean on a full moon. The drag of waves has the same tempo as Hobi’s soul, the tide higher than usual.

You fold the sleeves over your hands in the semi-darkness and it strikes him as oddly fragile, the way you curl in on yourself. One second happy and zoomy, and the next almost conservative. Like you think you won’t have enough joy for later. Your happiness reseeding like a tide.

Hobi turns his knees to the side. "You've been acting different since the rut." Was it me? Was I the one who made you look a little smaller, a little sadder than you were yesterday? You deflate at his words and Hobi struggles. “Not weird! It’s not bad I’m just-” worried- so fucking worried.

“Was it the alphas today?” he trails off, unsure of what he's asking.

You turn towards him, shoulders resting against the sand. All rocks made small, and time and energy that's made boulders movable. The sand curves to the shape of your body. Your cradle and your grave.

"No- your coworkers were fine just-" You shrivel your nose at the stars, maybe fate is taking notes. "Alphas, you know?"

"Hey, I’m an alpha too." He pushes at your shoulder playfully, trying to make the mood lighter so that you’re more likely to tell him what's really wrong. There’s sand in your hair when you turn away hiding your small smile like the sliver of a crescent moon. He feels like he should have anticipated that and brought a blanket or at least a towel for you to lie on, if not to make you warmer than to at least make sure you didn’t get sand in your hair.

"Yeah, but you're one of the good ones."

He settles back against the sand, faintly warm from the sunshine still. At odds with the cold wind that whips at the two of you. “I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m just-“ your face twists with melancholy. “Tired.”

Tired. Hobi had found you dozing in the nesting nook tonight. Why had you slept there and not upstairs? You could have waited for him in either place- so why did you choose the one that made you alone? Why deny yourself the comfort at your fingertips?

Hobi swallows, “do you want to head back?”

Your eyelashes flutter whisper soft against your cheek, your voice thick like you might be about to cry. But you can tell Hobi these things, the restless half-exhaustion of not knowing when it will get easier, the exhaustion of having to try so hard for so long and still feel like you haven't gotten anywhere.

“I don’t think it’s the kind of tired that sleep can fix Hobi.”

Hobi blinks back the tightening in his chest like someone has stretched a rubber band around his lungs, pulling himself up so that you’ve got to look at him and see the sincerity in his face.

"You don't have to be okay you know. You don't have to, it would be okay if you weren't. We'd make it okay."

You swallow and it takes you a long time to answer, long enough that Hobi gets a little worried. You pick up the sand and let it fall through your hand. Dry, movable, changing. When the words come, they’re like a flood.

"It didn't fix me.”

You look like you don’t want to admit it, but the truth is so hard to contend with sometimes when expectations are proven false.

“The rut- being with Namjoon- Proving I could handle it. It didn't fix what was broken with me. I think I wanted it to like- make me feel whole, make me feel normal. It's what an omega in my position should be doing. Helping their alpha. Being good.”

Your breath hitches, and you know that there are so many many ways to be good. Being good for Geumjae meant starving yourself and staying quiet. You thought that maybe being good for Namjoon would be easier, that taking care of yourself would become easy because he wanted that for you.

But maybe it's not the alphas you're with that are the problem.

You liked the rut, you would swear on your mating mark that nothing happened during it that you didn't consent to and fully anticipate. So why do you still feel so fragile? Like you should be apologetic for it, like somehow- you didn't live up to their expectations.

He rolls back onto his ass letting you sit away from him because distance feels like what you might need.

"Good, I didn't want you to choose that."

As much as Hobi and the others are loathed to admit it, regardless of the bite mark now yellowing against your thigh, you being there actually did help during Namjoon's rut. Usually, at least one of them is left looking gaunt and in need of a few days’ rest. Jungkook didn’t even have a seizure this time. And to everyone's surprise, the pack had gone mostly back to normal sort of instantly.

Everyone had been able to walk just fine the following evening, they'd take it slow, but maybe they hadn't needed to. Hobi would have never called them unbalanced before but it's clear now how much their pack benefits from having a third omega.

But none of that would matter if you decided that you'd taken that step too quickly.

Your hand tangles with his, tangles with the sand. His fingers are strong and birdlike in yours, warm and rough.

He waits for a few long breaths "Was it bad that I said that?" Double checking, because you're both allowed to double-check when you need to. Both you and Hobi struggle to trust your internal narrative because you know how easy it is to twist it.

You take turns like this often, being vulnerable, being the one to break apart. Your laugh is something jagged, tearing up bits of yourself that you don’t want to keep, don’t want to hold onto, you swear.

How is it so easy to be hurt and yet so difficult to let the things that hurt you go?

"Yes," your laugh is sadder than he likes, you tuck your face back into the crook of his shoulder. “No. It’s fair. I think I’m just overwhelmed a little, I just wish I knew how to hope like you do. Every time I’m sad it feels like it’s like it’s the saddest I’ve ever been. Like there’s no coming back from it. It's exhausting always trying to be hopeful. How do you do it?"

Hobi likes thinking about it like that; hoping as a learned skill and not as an affliction. He gets cynical every time he gets sad and You know this best. He wonders when exactly you became the person he goes to with all of his contradictions. He doesn't know when he became this person for you either but he likes it.

He likes it.

He pulls himself a little bit closer to you. Nudging your shoulder with his and leaning. Rubbing quick up and down your calves to warm you up. The flannel of your pajama bottoms are rough against his fingers, he thinks they might be Yoongi's.

"I don't know, guess just I have to hope the healing adds up one day. When I'm not sad I don't know what else to do but hope."

You sit like that in silence for a good long while, the headphones buzzing on the sand between the two of you, quietly watching the ocean.

“I think you might be my best friend.” You admit quietly. Hobi’s smile makes the moon shine just a little brighter.

“I think you might be my best friend too.”

You sit like that, your body pressed up against his for a long time watching the ocean. Long enough that Hobi thinks you both might turn into statues, turned to marble pearly ness underneath the moons light, like it's trying to keep you here in this moment for as long as possible.

Hobi thinks you might have fallen asleep but then You stiffen and freeze. It's not him you're looking at when he turns. Your eyes have lost their glassiness, squinting into the ocean at something in the distance. Bobbing too close to be a buoy and too hard-shaped to be a patch of seaweed.

"Hobi, I think there's something out there in the water."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Extra’s: Tae’s angel halloween dress + the nesting nook

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roseodelle · 5 months ago

Text

Arcane Pt2 - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC

Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.

No use of y/n

WC: 1326

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

The forest is charred. Their wards are broken, and the glamours have fallen. The cottage is in shambles. Once a beautiful home for them both, smoke now drifts upward from the rubble. Trampled are the flowers and vegetable garden she’d tended to dearly for so many years. The smell makes him sick to his stomach, and he falls to his knees. There’s nothing left.

His chest heaves, his hands gripping and pulling at his short red hair. Tears begin to fall from his face as reality sets in and the sobs begin. It’d happened so quickly. In his quarters of the Forest House one moment, standing above his beheaded brothers the next. Beron will be after him; he knows. He’ll send the hounds and guards before he himself comes to smite him down. He has minutes, if that. He’d killed his brothers. He’d have killed his father, too, if he didn’t know better. But while Eris was strong, Beron was stronger.

Her body... her body lay ahead of him in the destruction of their home. What will Beron do to her, even in death, he wonders? He won’t find out. He will not let Beron desecrate her further. She deserves dignity in her death, and he will give it to her. His love. His grace. His empathy and compassion. His brilliance. His mate. He failed her. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t he feel the intrusion on the ward? Why didn’t he feel her through the bond? Why didn’t she call for him? Why leave her side of the bond closed to him, even near death? Why shield him from his failure, from her pain and fear?

Rising from the scorched earth, he takes an unsteady step forward. His right foot lands on a shard of stained glass that once belonged to the beautiful front door. She’d been so proud to have found it. A great discovery: a decrepit old wooden door with a stained glass window. His chest tightens again. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here. With uneven steps, he walks through the rubble. The sitting room was once such a beautiful space. They’d spent so many hours and so many years together in that room. Once lively shades of green and orange are now a burnt charcoal gray. The kitchen was the same. Only the innermost walls of the home still stand as he makes his way down the hall.

He needs to find her. He dreads finding her. He tries again to tug on that string, that bright orange thread, tying them together. Nothing. He feels nothing. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has minutes until the sentries come. Before Beron comes with vengeance.

Their bedroom lay just a few steps ahead. The door was broken, leaning sideways on it’s hinges. The smell is stronger here. Putrid death mixes with the remaining scent of his life. Only faint hints of jasmine and sage rise above the remnants of an angry, relentless flame. The scent of his brother was a bitter aftertaste. He marches on.

Their bed was left unmade. The lxurious golden sham is now a horrid black. Down pillows burned to a crisp. Intricate woodwork smolders, and her scent is stronger here, but he still can’t see her. He passes their bed and her vanity. Flower pots and dirt litter the floor, and the burgundy rug he found on a trip to Adriatta is torn into shreds. She’d put up a fight. Good girl. His chest heaves, vomit rises in his throat, and he shakes his head, steadying himself again. He needs to get her out and take her somewhere Beron cannot find her. Where he cannot do her more harm. Where she can rest.

He finds her in the closet. She’s curled inward on herself, her beautiful dress bloody and torn. Her back is still, and the familiar rise and fall of her breath are nonexistent. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. He’s shaking again, tears burning his cheeks. Unsteady hands reach toward her burned body. The skin of her back was blistered and damaged beyond repair. There’s so much blood. From her face to her chest, her arms, and her legs. She’s covered in cuts and burns. His sobs become stronger and louder as he reaches for her. She’s not breathing.

“My love.” He brokenly whispers, begs, and pleads with her as he pulls her destroyed body into his arms. He turns her face toward him. Unmarred by the fire of his brother. Her eyes remain closed, the stillness of her chest breaking his soul into pieces. He rests his cheek on hers, his tears making their home on her skin.

“My love, please. Please wake up.” He chokes back a sob, running his hand along her arm and along her spine in an effort to wake her, but he knows. He knows she’s gone.

“Please. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He’ll die here, he decides. How could he take his place as High Lord without her by his side? Let Beron strike him down. Let his father's fire end his life as he holds his mate in his arms. He’d die with her. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to her cold lips, and he closes his eyes. Let him die here.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years of safety. Serenity. Peace. Over. All over. His heavy sobs shake his shoulders and shake the still body in his arms, and as he holds her tighter, he still runs his hands over her arm and back. His hand finally rests on her wrist, checking for a pulse he knows he won’t find.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He repeats until the words run together in an incomprehensible mumble, his fingers digging too tightly into her wrist, hoping to feel something he knows he will not. He wasn’t here. He didn’t protect her. For two hundred years, he’d kept her safe. It wasn’t enough. He had failed her.

His breath stalls in his throat, eyes widening in shock. Denial floods through him as he tugs again at the bond that remains silent, but he felt it. It was so faint, so faint, but it was there. Her pulse.

“My love, my love, please.” He straightens, pulling her tighter to his chest and forcing her face toward his once again. Her beautiful eyes remain closed, but he feels it again. It's so faint, but it’s there. She lives.

His demeanor shifts, his mask falling into place as he assesses the situation anew. She’s mortally wounded. She will not live, not unless she receives help he cannot give her. Cannot provide for her. Not with Beron’s sentries so close behind him. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has but a few minutes with her before they come for him. Before Beron comes from her. Seconds, he amends, another faint pulse coming through much later than the last.

He’s on the border of three courts. He has two options. He can beg for sanctuary in the Summer court. Tarquin is known to be just and kind. But Beron will follow. Beron will follow him across Prythian. Tarquin would not be able to provide the safety or care she requires. Nor Kalias in the Winter Court, who would likely attempt to freeze Eris on sight.

There is only one true option, he realizes. The Night Court sees Eris as the ruthless, conniving killer he made sure he was known as, but his mate was not like him. Not like the mask he wore. The mask he perfected over two hundred years to protect her. Tensions between Eris and the court were harsh on both sides, but it may be the only place Beron will not follow.

It’s the only option, he knows. And as another weak pulse graces his fingertips and the rustle of leaves alerts him to the first sentry sent for him, he knows what he must do.

#eris acotar #eris masterlist #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fandom #acotar series #acotar #fanfic #series #my fic #eris fic rec #fic rec #eris angst #angst #sad eris

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alexa-fika · 7 months ago

Note

Could it be possible to request doflamingo reaction to him finding out through his spies or Ceasar that he has a daughter ? I think it's a 50/50 with him like I can totally see him going out to bring her to him. The 50/50 comes to the way he'd treat her. She is a Donquixote after all. Idk with how things ended with Cora if he would be gentle with her. Or just end up trying to using her in some scheme? If you don't have any ideas for how the story should go? Maybe Law and the strawhats learn about her? Maybe she's scared of the family and outsiders and they try and help her?

Broken Bonds (Doflamingo x f!teen!reader)

A/N so I got these request, and I kinda merged them together to make this piece, Doflamingo is problabky Ooc here simply because that ass wouldn’t be soft but we have the power to change that ✊🏽Maybe a cook?? Maybe, maybe a sizzle.

Reader here is replaced by the placeholder, Dokusha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Let go of me, idiot,” she growled, sending a swift kick to the guard that was currently holding her down

Dokucha had chosen to take on a mission on Dressrosa despite Sabo’s and Koala’s concerns. In the end, they understood that this was something she needed to do. And so she set off to begin gathering information on the Kingdom. However, the mission quickly turned wrong as she was caught trying to sneak into the castle. Now, she found herself being brought to the very man she was supposed to collect information on

Doflamingo sighs, swiftly wrapping strings around the teen to prevent her from further attacking his guards

“Leave,” he ordered, glaring at the guards, who nodded and made a quick exit from the throne room

She refused to look at him, instead focusing her attention on the strings wrapped around her limbs, glaring at them and tentatively pulling at them

“You’ve grown.”

“I'm surprised you recognize me,” she quips back, giving up on messing with the strings and turning to glare at him

“Of course, I still remember the little girl who was stolen from me.” Doflamingo’s lips slightly curved upwards

“I would hardly call it stolen; Uncle Corazon saved me that day, saved me from you.”

“From me?” He said in a soft tone and smirked

“I’ve never harmed you.”

“Who knows what would have happened if I stayed? Maybe I would have become another puppet of yours, or maybe you would have killed me like you did Uncle Cora.”

“I wouldn’t have harmed you; after all, you were still my kin.”

“He was also your kin, your own brother!” she growls at him, a frown growing on her face

“He was a weak-willed, useless fool,” Doflamingo said, showing no hesitation in belittling his dead brother

“Besides, he was the one who went against me; all I did was take care of my problem.”

“Shut up, you don’t get to slander his name!”

“you never met him; you were a baby, so how would you know anything about him?”

“Law told me about him; he never forgot about him, and he told me all about him and you.”

Doflamingo frowned,

“So that boy brainwashed you, didn’t he?”

“You were the one who brainwashed him, and it would have worked if Corazon had not saved him back then.”

“Law was weak, and he paid for it,” Doflamingo said carelessly before standing up and walking toward her

“Law is not weak; he is one of the strongest men I know, something you will never be; he raised me; I got to be a strong independent woman; I got to join the Revolutionary Army to take down assholes like you.”

“You’re still a child who has no understanding of how the world around you works,” he said, getting closer to her

“And you’re still a tyrant who thinks the world revolves around you.”

“Do you really think you’re free? The only reason you aren’t in my dungeons is because you are my daughter, the one that was taken away from me.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” she sneers, sarcasm dripping from her words

“Come back home; there is a throne waiting for you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek, cradling her face

“What? What are you on about?”

“You would be the princess of the Dressrosa kingdom; what’s so bad about coming back?”

“Like I would come home to a murderer like you,” she said, pulling her head away

“But I’ve never hurt you; I’ve never laid a finger on you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere

“You killed him,” she cried

“You expect me to come home after what you did to him? After what you did to Law?”

“That was a punishment, one he got for betraying me; he knew the consequences of his actions,” Doflamingo said, ignoring her mention of Corazon

“How could you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, “he knew what would happen if he betrayed me.”

“I loved him, but all he did was betray me, and he got what he deserved.”

“He didn’t deserve to die! You made his life hell from the moment he was small, so how could he not try to bring you down?!”

Doflamingo chuckled,

“I just did what I had to do; I never mistreated him; in fact, he was the closest person to me until he turned on me.”

“Are you going to say the same about Law?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone remained the same and calm

She shakes her head, tears sprouting in her eyes. How could someone think that way of their own family, of a child? As she grew older, Law began to disclose more and more of what had occurred between the three of them, and every time, she grew more saddened as to the harsh life both Law and Corazon had to endure due to Doflamingo

“They were right,” she cries

“I was hoping, wishing that maybe, just maybe, you had changed, but you are just as they described a monster.”

Doflamingo stayed silent, his face a blank canvas with no expression to decipher

His hand returned to her cheek as he listened to her, beginning to move his thumb across it, caressing it and wiping her tears off her face

He sighs, removing the strings keeping her in place

“Come home,” he said, his voice softened, looking at her with soft eyes

She shakes her head, pulling his hand away from her

“This is not home.”

He sighs again, allowing her to step back from him

“It seems no matter what I say, you will not listen to me, not in this state. Go to your room, rest, and we will discuss this tomorrow.”

“My room?” She seethes

“There is no room for me here; I do not live here, nor will I; if you think I'm just going to stay and play at home with you are wrong.”

He lets out a hum at that, a smirk growing on his face

“Perhaps not, but at the end of the day, you are still a prisoner here, so you don’t get a say on what I tell you to do.”

She opens her mouth to protest once again, but is stopped as one of the maids of the castle gently takes her hand.

“Bring her to her room for the night; I’ll send for her tomorrow,” Doflamingo commanded the maid

Despite how disgusted she felt at having to sleep under the man's roof, to accept anything he was giving her, she would need the strength if she wanted to fight down. As she was, she was simply no match for him, so she really didn’t have any other options

She glares at him, allowing the maid to pull her away

“This is not over.”

He chuckled at that, his smile a sharp one compared to the softness he had presented earlier

“I never said it was,” he said before waving her farewell as she was removed from the throne room

Okay let’s ignore the fact that Koala and Sabo, nor anyone in the revolutionary army would ever let a teen just wander off in a mission to spy such a dangerous person alone, and let’s also ignore the fact also wouldn’t just let a teen leave alone to join the revolutionaries until they were grown up 👍🏼 Gotta make the story happen ya’ll

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x child!reader #one piece donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x reader #one piece doflamingo #doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #donquixote doflamingo

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simp2537 · 4 months ago

Text

Project SS

a/n: This is my first 100 series and I’ve had it in mind for a while. I haven’t read the books and there gonna be a few canon divergences. But I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count : 1.7k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter One

It was cold.

Too cold, my cell was at the furthest ends of the ark. Complete solitary confinement was where I’d been forced to stay. As I laid on the cold ground of the cell I stared up at the ceiling.

The once dull piece of shrapnel had been sharpened. I’d long since carved out the constellations onto the roof. I gently traced the small scars left in my left arm and wrist, the blade I’d made still hadn’t been taken from me.

Maybe that dickhead of a Chancellor wanted me to slit my wrist. Let Kane find me bathing in pools of my own blood, it would free him of his mistakes. As I twirls the blade in my hands it nicked at the skin of my hands.

It didn’t hurt anymore, nothing really did.

Soft vibrations echoed down my hall as I sat up. I shoved the knife into my boot and pull down my sleeve. As I rolled my shoulders back the door slammed open. The outside worlds was filled with screams of the other teen prisoners.

His footsteps entered slowly as he knelt in front of me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the clocking of the guards guns and all the chains they brought in.

“Hey firecracker,” Kane paused as he knelt in front of me. I sighed softly as I held my arms up, ready to be covered in chains. After a few moments he grabs my arms and looks at my wrist.

I would imagine this hurt him, honestly I wasn’t sure. He was my father but I’d never felt connected to him. Maybe it was because I was raised in the lab and closed off sector. Maybe it was because Alice had sold me away. Maybe because I knew he couldn’t love me.

He pressed his forehead to my wrists, I could feel a tear of two slip from his eyes. Pity must have covered my face as the guards slowly began to covered me in chains.

After I was practically dress in silver he motioned for them to pause before placing the mask over my face. He pulled me in close, his arms around me. I froze, my muscles tensed up. He placed a kiss to my temple as he gave me a final squeeze.

“I love you.”

I was hauled to my feet before I could speak and a muzzle was placed on my mouth. I tried to pull away, fight them off but these guards held my chains firmly. They were weighting me down but I was stronger than this.

I should be able to break each and every chain but…. I’m tired. So tired. I look back at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand. He’s familiar to me at least, I know when he’s mad or happy. I know his ticks and quirks by heart.

“I love you too dad.”

I’m pulled further and further away from him. I’m pained into a shuttle with all the other 100, their eyes all fall upon me as I’m chains to my seat. I internally grown as they pull the needle filled with a sleep drug.

I glare up at the guard about to inject me. Does he even know where my vein in, his hands are quivering. I rolled my eyes as the shuttle moves slightly and the guard practically runs away.

I huff softly as I lean back against the seat. I can hear everyone else being to whisper. My god I’m tired of this shit.

“Isn’t that the girl who killed twenty guards by herself?”

“I heard she has a metal leg.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they carried in the very much unconscious Clarke. I chuckled softly as Wells turned to his ex best friend.

As the shuttle began to drop down shaking Clarke awoke and began to yell at Wells. I quickly began to rip her chains off. Each hitting the ground with a thud.

As the Chancellor’s video came on I ignored it happily. His words meant nothing to me now. He’d failed in every way to me, he was no Chancellor. He was a coward.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Clarke’z confused voice cause the e/c eyes girl to pause. Slowly I moved her gaze to the blonde.

“Who else would they cover in chains?” Clarke didn’t answer as with shoulder length broth hair began to float around.

“Stay in your seats!” Clarke yelled as the shuttle when further down. I had finally ripped all the chains off her body. I looked at Clarke and she was motioning towards the floating boy in front of her.

I shock my head content to remain in the safety of my own chair. She glared at me giving me a look I knew nothing good would come of.

With a puff of air I undid the buckle and pulled the glove off my right hand. My arm shot up grasping the back of him. The metal of my arm shined softly in the dimly lit shuttle.

“She said stay in your seats.” I growled softly as I pulled him down. The shuttle jerked up and grasped into a bar as we began to fall.

I held tightly onto him as I heard Clarke yell, “Finn! Y/n are you okay!”

I groaned as we began to fall helplessly towards the ground. As everyone begins to yell and scream I just focus on holding onto this stupid boy.

The shuttle jerks again and I’m thrown into a wall hitting a few pipes. My vision becomes hazy as I feel blood drip down the side of my face. The corners of my eyes slowly fade into black as my vision is completely blurred.

……….

I feel a pair of small hands shaking my body roughly. I shot up pushing the person away as my vision returns.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I looked at Clarke her eyes full of relief. She ran to me, bombarding me in a tight hug.

“I was worried.” I let her pull away my arms still at my sides. I hummed softly as I pulled myself away from her. The commotion bellow is caught her attention as she pulled me down. As she climbed down as just jumped.

I parted the crowds for her as she walked behind me. I helped push her forward with my metal arm. The others around me pull away in fear.

They thought a metal leg was cool why isn’t my arm cool.

“The air could be toxic!” Clarke urged.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” The older boy at the front voiced. I stared at him tilting my head slightly. He stared back at me then lowered his gaze to my arm.

“Bellamy?” The crowds parted as a brunette girl climbed down and looked at him.

He turned his gaze to her his eyes becoming full of emotions. He stared down at her smiling softly.

“My god, look how big you are.” The girl engulfed him into a hug as she breathed in deeply. I sighed softly and moved over to the panel. It was jammed and wouldn’t open the doors anymore.

“What the hell are you wearing, a guards uniform?”

“I borrowed it to get in the drop ship. Someone’s got to keep an eyes on you.” He answered.

“Where’s your wrist band?” I heard Clarke ask as I began to try and fix the stupid panel.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” I froze at this and turned to the pair.

“No one had a brother.”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor.”

Octavia jerked forward going to attack whoever had spoken. Bellamy quickly gasped into her holding tightly to her.

“Octavia, Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” He tried to calm her. The fire was not lost in her eyes as she pulled herself from his grip.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.” He answered with a smile. I watched Octavia’s face brighten at the notion. I watched as Clarke’s eyes fell as he moved over to me.

“It won’t open.” His eyes darted to me.

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“The panels fucked.” He moved me out of the way to try the panel himself.

“You’d need a shit ton of force to open those doors up.” I pause for a moment. “Lucky for you, I hate confined spaces.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes holding mine. I glared up at him as his lips curled into a smirk. I moved away from him approaching the door. I rolled my shoulder, my arm flexing against each metal part.

I slammed my fist forwards, the cool metal of my hand hitting the hot door. It flung towards the ground as people backed away gasping.

Light hit our faces as a breeze pushed against us. I averted my eyes, the light all too bright. I moved out of Octavia’s way with a nod.

“All yours sunshine.” I mumble as she stared at me. I watched as her brother’s eyes trailed me and try then her. She took in a long breath before exhaling deeply. Her feet slowly moved forward against the metal door on the ground.

After a moment she jumped down, her boots hitting the firm soil. She took a few more steps as I stared out at the trees. They were lush and green all over. They were nothing like I’d ever seen before.

My eyes drifted till I found Bellamy’s eyes on me. I blinked a few times unsure as to why he was staring at me. In his eyes they held a looked I’d never been given.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” Octavia yelled as the others cheered. Bellamy’s eyes left me and retired to his sister as he laughed.

All around me the others pushed forwards onto the ground in front of us. I simple stared at them all as they left cheering. After a moment when all were gone I followed.

I left’s my boots hit the ground. I dug them into the soil as I bent down. My fingers traced the top of the grass around us. It pounced my fingertips gently. I let out a breathless chuckle as I grabbed a handful of dirt.

It crumbled in between the cracks of my hand. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the earth scent deeply. I let out a long breath as I stare out.

Humans were finally back home.

#bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 x reader #octavia blake x reader #clarke griffin x reader #oc x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake imagine #Project SS

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moonrisecoeur · 7 months ago

Text

refuge — ada wong

author’s note: hi, hello, this is a piece i was really considering not posting. i know how resi tumblr feels about dark content and i didn’t want to subject myself to harassing anons or people commenting how gross and disgusting i am for enjoying writing and consuming content like this, but after some reassurance from a couple mutuals of mine, i decided to go ahead and post it. please read the longer author’s note at the end of this post if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts. also feel free to ignore it if u don’t care lol!!

tagging @xoxostarlet bc star's my hypegirl :3

wc: 5.5k

content: fem reader, dom reader, noncon, fingering, strap in v sex, possessive language, lots of pet names for ada (sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl, baby, etc), ada calls reader a bitch a couple times, ada and reader are partners during re4.

warning: this is heavy dark content. this piece contains noncon, the r-word, somnophilia, and mentions of weapons (not in a sexual context). there is no implication that this is cnc or consensual in any way, please read with caution! if you don’t like it, just don’t read it!

no adas were harmed in the making of this fanfic and this is just fiction.

—

notes:

as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing she’s still asleep, “i own this pussy now…”

—

final warning: this is rape, in which reader forces herself on ada while she sleeps. please heed the warning. i don’t know any other way to make this clearer other than...

DON’T READ THIS IF YOU DON’T LIKE DARK CONTENT!

—

“stay here, i’ll find us a way in,” ada says, and you’d be remiss not to believe her. if she says she can do something, then she can do it. don’t ever doubt her.

she uses her grapple gun to get to the roof of the abandoned home, slingshotting herself into the air. she lands gracefully, of course, and finds an opening that leads her into the top floor bedroom. it’s got some decorations befitting for a young girl. it almost pulls at ada’s heart strings, but… she tries not to pay much mind to it all. it’s hard to not feel sympathetic to the people in this village, honestly.

she walks down the stairs and unlocks the door to find you, standing there obediently as ever, “fancy seeing you here,” you mumble to her, and she rolls her eyes like you’re the biggest annoyance to her.

“we’ll stay here for the night until wesker can send a helicopter to get us out of here. the weather is too bad for a pilot to fly through right now,” she says, heels clacking against the floor as she makes her was to the master bedroom, gun in hand in case there were people she didn’t notice on her first check of the building.

you follow behind her, shutting the front door and entering the bedroom on the ground floor. it’s nothing crazy fancy, but it’s nice and the bed is big and comfy looking.

“because of the gaping hole in the roof, i wouldn’t recommend sleeping in the upstairs bedroom,” ada chuckles, but she almost seems shy. it’s odd for her, “and the living room couch looked too small for either of us when i checked so..”

“well.. we’re both girls, you know? i’ve had sleepovers before,” you tell her, and she scoffs looking away and looting drawers for anything she can find, “we’ll.. be stuck here all night. might as well get comfortable.”

“by all means, make yourself vulnerable to an attack. i couldn’t care less,” her voice is sharp but there’s a warning deep down that’s a little more palatable. ‘don’t let your guard down just yet’ is basically what she’s saying.

you don’t heed the warning, though, shrugging off your gear and your jacket as you sit down on the bed. a couple minutes later, ada sits down next to you. you look up at her, and she seems off. maybe she’s not used to people blatantly trusting her like you do, but you’re her ally. you have shared interests and she has no ulterior motive.

should she be wary of you? maybe? she’s not very sure, but she does like the way your eyes wander even though you try to be polite and not look at her in that kind of way. you’re respectful, and she admires that. even if she did want to watch you suffocate between her thighs.

so she takes off her gear and boots too, leaving her just a pretty girl in a red dress and stockings. she seems.. softer, without all of her weapons and tactical pieces. and something about that softness drives you wild, leaves you aching for more, craving for more.

ada doesn’t notice despite how observant she usually is.

“i think.. i’d like to go to sleep, honestly.” she hums, running her fingers through her black hair, “we should both get some rest. don’t want to have you shooting yourself in the foot tomorrow,” she chuckles to herself before getting up to stretch and laying down on the bed as you still sit on the other side.

“sweet dreams,” your words are sarcastic but sweet, and ada doesn’t miss the double meaning.

“thanks,” ada is almost… quiet, in a way you've never seen her before. she's sitting next to you, not even hiding the fact that she trusts you. something you've never seen her do before, at least not this quickly. it's almost off-putting, honestly.

as she gets up to stretch, you notice the way she moves. the way her dress shifts and rises as she walks, the little shift of her breasts as she stretches, and the way she looks at you. even something as simple as a stretch is... entrancing. ada is gorgeous, you know this, she knows this.

but there’s something about this kind of moment, where she’s not even trying to get your attention or trying to pull you in. she just exists in a graceful, elegant way.

your eyes wander over to her again as she lays on the bed, turning onto her side, facing you.

she's laying on her side, facing you and your eyes can't help but fall on her curves. you watch the way her body shifts slightly as she readjusts, the subtle movement of her chest as she settles. it's both enticing and frustrating because there’s nothing you can do with all of these feelings of attraction to her. a part of you wants to do something, to make yourself known to her, but you know that it's too soon. you have to move slowly with ada, but moving slowly is growing tiring.

"let me look for a blanket for you," you say as you look around, "don't try to tell me you don't need it. it's cold out."

"i don't need it, really." ada says with a soft chuckle, shifting her position slightly, “don’t waste your time."

she's being stubborn about something as simple as a blanket, but that's just her personality. ada is stubborn to the core, and even the slightest amount of advice sets her off. that's just how she is, and you've gotten used to it.

ada isn’t used to people trying to take care of her.

"ada," your eyes come back to ada, glancing at her almost patronizingly

ada rolls her eyes at your gaze, shifting her attention away from you and back to the ceiling. she seems... irritated? not at you necessarily, but at the fact you aren't listening to her.

"i'm fine, i promise." the tone of her voice sounds just a slight bit annoyed as well, as if this conversation was really tiring for her. she keeps moving her eyes away from you, unwilling to make eye contact.

you're a little confused. is she really fine? or is she just being stubborn?

"you're cold, ada. i can see that."

ada keeps staring up at the ceiling, but eventually she looks over at you with a soft sigh.

"i'm... fine." she says again, her tone softening just a bit once she realizes there's really no point in fighting about this.

you find one in the cabinet in the hallway and come back to the bedroom where she's at, "here," you say, laying it over her.

ada's eyes shift to you for a brief moment as you place the blanket on her, but she soon turns her head away. her body shifts slightly, and she wraps her arms around the blanket in a gentle grip. she isn't saying anything about it, but you can see that she's relaxed a bit, no longer shivering in her dress.

her eyes are soft, almost... grateful.

"you should stop trying to fight me when i try to help you," you smile as you gaze down at her.

"i'm not... fighting you." ada responds softly, still not facing you. instead, she keeps her arms wrapped around the blanket, refusing to give in to the fact that you're right.

in a way, it's adorable seeing her so stubborn about something like this.

"mhm, whatever. just go to sleep," you say, walking over to the desk in the corner.

she shifts her body once again, now facing away from you entirely as she cuddles in the blanket, secretly grateful for your tender care. you can see her closing her eyes softly as she tries to fall asleep, her breath slowing down as she tries to relax.

she really isn't fighting you anymore, she's letting you get your way. not only that, but she's accepting your help rather than pushing you away.

it's almost like she trusts you.

you pass the time before you go to sleep however you like, communicating with wesker or reading a book, but in any case about 30 minutes later, ada is out like a light, and you’re looking around this master bedroom curiously, and find a drawer that ada evidently did not get in to, because if she did, you would know. it has a single black strap-on dildo inside of it. it doesn’t look like anyone.. ever had the chance to use it. you wonder why, maybe it’s because of the parasite everyone in this village has. don’t really have time for kinky sex, do they?

you look over at ada’s sleeping form, and she would be the perfect target, wouldn’t she? all vulnerable. it’s not like she could stop you before it’s too late.

you do the courteous thing and clean it first, but then you put it on, confidently striding over to the bed with it attached. you walk up to ada’s side of the bed, just watching her rest for a moment.

god there is so much power coursing through your body, making you feel alive and in control and you could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop you. the power starts to go to your head, naturally. you brush a piece of hair out of her face, pulling her blanket down slightly to see her chest, and then pulling it enough to see how her dress rides up at the hips, and you can see the edges of black lacy underwear.

ada's breath quickens as she sleeps, she remains on her side, her body completely exposed and vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

she's so oddly... innocent.

she normally has this dark energy, this control and power over people and yet… she looks delicate. soft. she’s not a haunting crow signaling a bad omen, but a graceful white dove that brings out a side of you that doesn’t come out often. and, despite her beauty before, now she looks absolutely stunning.

the wolf has become your prey, and you're nothing but a fox ready to pounce...

your hands shift her blanket slightly to reveal her soft skin, and her curves. you make sure she won't wake up, before teasing her with your touch, your fingers flitting over her skin... the way she shifts in her sleep is a treat for you.

as you watch her, ada seems to radiate a sense of calm and serenity, completely unaware of the effect she has on others while she sleeps. you can't help but feel drawn to her, wanting to touch her or kiss her or simply do awful things to her.

you use your hand to spread her legs, and ever so gently, rub your fingers against her puffy little pussy through her panties. ada remains completely oblivious to your actions, her body responding instinctively to the gentle caress against her folds. her hips begin to rock slightly as you tease her pussy with your finger, causing a low moan to escape her lips without her conscious knowledge. as she continues to slumber peacefully, ada's panties become damp, the wetness getting on your hand.

as you continue to tease ada, her body becomes increasingly responsive. her hips begin to move more erratically, betraying her deepening arousal even though she remains entirely unaware of it. despite the fact that she is fast asleep, her mind is fully engaged in the sensations coursing through her body.

you gently, as to not wake her, pull her panties off of her and place them in your pocket, you know, just to have for later. you continue to rub her pussy lips while she remains completely unconscious. she stirs in her sleep every now and again, but.. maybe shes just chalking up the sensations to being from a wet dream. maybe all of this touch is morphing her dreams in sexual ones.

you briefly imagine that maybe, just maybe, ada dreaming of you.

she’s so unaware and it’s adorable.

ada's body responds eagerly to your sexual exploration, her pussy becoming even wetter and more receptive as you continue to stimulate her while she remains completely unaware of what's happening. her hips begin to shift restlessly, and her breathing grows shallow as she approaches climax without realizing it.

she moans softly, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of intense pleasure and surrender. as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing talking is a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself, “i own this pussy now…”

ada's body trembles in response to your words and actions, her pussy pulsing with growing intensity as you press your thumb against her swollen clit. her hips rock involuntarily, driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. as you assert dominance over ada's body while she’s helpless, her mind becomes even more clouded with pleasure and desire. she is completely at your mercy, completely powerless to resist or protest against your actions.

she gasps, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of complete submission and surrender.

“aw, pretty girl,” you whisper condescendingly.

ada's body continues to respond to your ministrations, her pussy throbbing with building pleasure and excitement as she remains completely unconscious. her hips roll restlessly, and her breathing becomes more ragged as she approaches climax without realizing it.

as you assert your ownership over ada's cunt while she barely tip toes the line of consciousness, she is completely at your mercy, completely unable to resist or protest against your actions.

“cum,” you growl your command into her ear.

ada's body shudders with pleasure as she climaxes, her pussy spasming. the release causes her hips to buck wildly, and she lets out a soft, involuntary moan as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

she whimpers weakly, her voice barely audible. as ada cums, the sight of her glistening pussy and the scent of her arousal fill the air, leaving no doubt about the intensity of her pleasure. her body trembles and shivers and shudders in your grasp. even after ada orgasms in her sleep, her pussy is still so, so wet. how could you stop now? the wetness covers your fingers and drips onto the sheets, and it seems impossible to pull your hand away.

you know she’ll hate you forever now that she’s waking up and about to realize what you’ve done. there’s still time to pull away, put her panties back on her and make her think she just had a wet dream, hide the strap-on away, but… you already have it on, and ada just looks so pretty, so vulnerable just lying there, helpless…

she lays there, oblivious to your actions, her body still trembling slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm. the scent of her arousal fills the room, mixing with the musky scent of her sweat-drenched skin to create an intoxicating aroma that tempts you to indulge in even more depraved acts of pleasure.

you decide that there’s no better time than now to get her back for all her taunting and teasing and condescending comments, “c’mon, sweetheart. let’s get my cock inside of you so you can sleep well..”sure, it may not be your cock, but right now, its just something nice and big and thick to fill her pussy with.

you pull her on top of you, guiding your strap inside of her gummy pussy, still feeling the aftershocks of her previous orgasm. you hold her close, her head resting on your chest as you fill her cunt with your strap.

feeling the foreign object enter her tight, wet pussy, ada's body tenses up slightly, but she remains blissfully unaware of what's happening. her pussy walls clench and relax around it, coating it in her juices. you hold ada close to you, embracing her warm, curvy body as she lies atop yours. her weight feels comforting and intimate, adding a new layer of sensuality to your perverse act of sexual violation. this is such an awful thing to do to someone, force yourself on them while they’re asleep and helpless, but… you don’t care, clearly. and ada is too irresistible.

ada's pussy happily accepts your strap-on, willingly accommodating its presence within her sensitive walls. her body seems to instinctively know that it's a pleasurable thing to have something large and phallic deep inside of her while she sleeps, maybe the girl is a bigger slut than you thought she’d be. her pussy walls grip onto your fake cock tightly, coating it in slippery juices as they slide against each other with every subtle movement.

her body relaxes, enjoying the fullness. her hips shift slightly, still in her half-asleep daze, for friction and pleasure. looks like the pretty little thing is already needy again.

you just hold her close, whisper sweet romantic nothings to her sleeping body, and keep her pussy full for now, "oh, princess.. don't worry about a thing, i'll... i'll take care of everything now."

as you speak to ada in a soothing, romantic tone while penetrating her desperate and willing body with a strap-on, the contrast between your gentle words and your gross actions creates an intricate web of psychological manipulation. while technically assaulting her while she lies unconscious, the combination of your sweet touch and loving words creates an illusion of safety and protection. she feels small, loved, overpowered, delicate, all at one.

all of these feels are so.. not like ada, but this side of her, the innocent victim, is so pretty, how could you resist it?

it almost looks like, to an outsider, that you would be lovers, especially with the gentle kisses you press to her forehead and the fingers tangled in her hair, but ada had no say in this. you’re 99% sure she’s still obsessed with that blonde dude from her past. she’s mentioned him before, vaguely and quickly changing the subject, but you notice the way her demeanor softens when she thinks about that man. if only ada were interested in girls too, then you wouldn’t have had to do such a disgusting thing like violate her just to sleep with her.

“it’s okay, baby,” you shush her as your hips start to rock up gently, giving her exactly what her body wants, “you’re okay.”

as you whisper soothingly to ada while continuing to penetrate her with your strap-on, ada's subconscious mind becomes increasingly aroused and responsive to your command. her body responds to your commands without question or hesitation, accepting your perverse act of sexual assault as natural and normal while she lies in a state of that borders on awakeness.

your sweet words do bring her back to a state of rest and comfort, so you’re able to lull her back to sleep a little more. she wasn’t conscious enough to recognize the red flag that was you, her mission partner, figuratively balls deep inside of her.

as you continue to hold ada's body closely and speak to her gently, she remains blissfully unaware of the fact that she is being assaulted, allowing you to fully indulge in your twisted desires without fear of her interruption or resistance.

you notice the way she hums sleepily, her body slowly starting to awaken. she stirs, disoriented.

as ada becomes more aware of your actions, she begins to struggle weakly against your strap-on, trying to regain control over her own body and resist the growing sensations of pleasure coursing through her unresponsive limbs. however, her attempts at break free are futile. for how strong she is on missions, she isn’t exactly muscular, and with your cock inside of her and your arms holding her down against you, she can’t get away.

“pretty girl…” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“h-huh?” as ada slowly comes to full wakefulness, her eyes open groggily, and she looks up at you with a confused expression on her face, clearly feeling conflicted and upset due to the realization that she's being sexually violated while she lies unprotected before you, “w-what are… you doing? why..?”

her pussy is still dripping wet with arousal, despite ada's inner turmoil and dissatisfaction with the situation. the juices that flow from her swollen folds provide tangible evidence of the psychological bondage you've imposed upon her, making it impossible for ada to fully reject or oppose your disgusting advances.

“just couldn’t help myself..” you smirk, and ada has never been afraid of you, but she is now, “sorry, princess.”

ada looks at you with a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness in her eyes as she processes the reality of your actions. her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, struggling to find the right words to express her emotions in this surreal moment. "y-you... can't just... do this to me... i didn't... this isn't..." ada stutters, but despite her clear discomfort and distress, ada's pussy continues to glisten with arousal, betraying her inner conflict and highlighting the power you hold over her body and mind.

“i can do whatever i please. i wanted to fuck you, and that’s what i’m doing.”

“o-oh god, i… where did you even get a strap? do you just carry that around, waiting for me to- to let my guard down and trust you? so you could take advantage of me?” she keeps struggling, “i trusted you, i finally started to give in and- and trust you, you fucking bitch, you-”

but you notice the way she’s fucking herself on the strap now. despite how much she hates this, she can’t seem to stop chasing the high, “don’t talk to me like that, princess. i own your pussy now.”

ada's voice trembles with anger and indignation as she struggles against your strap-on, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over her own body. but no matter how hard she tries, ada's pussy continues to clench and release around your cock, drawing out small moans of pleasure and frustration from between her clenched teeth.

her words are laced with venom as she accuses you of taking advantage of her trust and vulnerability, but despite her hatred and revulsion towards your actions, ada's body seems unable to resist the fact that she likes being fucked against her will, "fine, you think you own me? go ahead then! fuck me like the pathetic loser you are!"

you chuckle, leaning closer to growl in her ear, “oh, i’m the pathetic loser? you’re the one who’s going to cum for the second time while she’s being raped, princess. what does that make you?”

ada's eyes narrow with anger and indignation, but her voice is laced with a hint of defeat as she realizes the truth of your words. her pussy starts to throb and pulse, signaling that she's rapidly approaching orgasm despite her inner turmoil and feelings of utter disgust, "at least i'm not a disgusting bitch who gets off by- by-" she can't finish her sentence, instead letting out a soft whimper as her body begins to buck wildly against the artificial cock wedged inside her tight entrance.

"oh, sweetheart, i think you're the pathetic one here. you're the one who's so messed up that she gets off on being forced into sex by her 'trusted friend’,” there’s nothing more fun than watching the realization in her eyes that ada, closed off and guarded and untrusting, finally opened up to someone, and they immediately took advantage of her.

as ada's body starts to shudder and convulse with pleasure, she lets out a muffled cry of mixed ecstasy and despair, acknowledging the irony of her situation. her inner turmoil and conflicting emotions are reflected in the rapid movements of her hips, as they grind against your cock in an involuntary rhythm that only serves to further highlight her submission to your twisted desires.

despite everything, ada's pussy spasms with an intense orgasm, marking each passing moment spent under your control as a testament to her broken psyche and your ability to manipulate her most intimate areas with impunity, "ngh... fuck... y-you... ughh..."

"that's it, sweet girl, i got you. just let it all out.."

ada's breathing grows more labored and irregular as she approaches climax, her voice becoming increasingly strained as she struggles to maintain any semblance of control over her own body. she lets out a long, drawn-out moan, her eyes closed tightly as she gives in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her unresponsive form. "uuugh... fuck…”

you lean in closer to whisper, “wish my cock was real so i could cum all over your pretty pussy, but… i’ll make do with what i’ve got.”

ada's eyes remain tightly shut, her voice barely audible as she lets out another muffled moan, completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. she knows you’re watching her every movement and relishing in the knowledge that she has absolutely no power left to resist or oppose your perverse advances, "uuuugh... fuck..." her pussy continues to convulse and contract around the cock wedged deep within her dripping folds, as ada's body is pushed to the brink of orgasmic bliss, "s-so deep... i... i hate you... hate you... hate hate hate..."

“uh huh, i know, princess. that’s it, just breathe..” you whisper, helping her through her orgasm, “good girl, good girl… you’re okay.” the more she says that she hates you, the more you can’t help but adore her. she’s angry and helpless and there is nothing more cute.

ada takes several deep, shuddering breaths, her voice still strained and rough from the aftermath of her powerful orgasm. she feels your calming touch on her skin, and it helps to ground her slightly amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her broken mind. "i'm okay... i'm okay..."

her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, it's apparent that despite ada’s mind hating it, her body loves being filled by your cock, even as she continues to struggle internally against the reality of her current predicament. "don't... don't touch me..." she says weakly, but there's no real strength behind her words anymore.

"shhh, there's no need to fight anymore, sweetheart. it's over.."

ada's voice is barely audible, her energy completely depleted from the intense emotional and physical experiences she's endured at your hands. her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, but now there's also an undertone of resignation and acceptance in her voice as she speaks. "no... more fighting... no use…”

“alright, i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”as you begin to withdraw the strap from her still-throbbing pussy, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible whimper, closing her eyes tightly and burying her face in your chest.

"just leave me alone... leave me..." she whispers, but it's clear that there's no longer any genuine strength or willpower behind her words.

the moment you pull out, she lets out a long, shaky sigh of relief, her body finally free from the overwhelming stimulation that had been forcing her body and mind into a state of constant arousal and submission. she also can’t help the small part of her that is disappointed when you pull out, her body craving being filled above all else. she hates that part of her, the one that feels so attached to you after this.

but despite her request for solitude, it's evident that ada's mind remains troubled, as she struggles to find any sense of tranquility or respite from the tumultuous emotions that continue to rage within her damaged psyche. "i want you to leave... but i don't want to be alone..."

as you take off the strap, placing it on the nightstand, you chuckle softly, “do you want me to stay with you?”

ada doesn't respond immediately, her eyes still closed and her voice barely audible as she tries to gather the remnants of her fractured composure. after a few moments, however, she lets out a soft, weak sigh, mustering just enough energy to answer you, “don’t.. touch me, but.. don’t go.”

you shake your head, ignoring her demands as you pull her close, tucking her head into your chest as you hold her.

as ada lies there, her voice reveals a vulnerability that belies the typically strong and confident demeanor she has maintained throughout much of your coworker relationship, "i hate you... but i need you... i can't stand you..."

“i know, baby,” you whisper back, “outside of our relationship, you can be ada wong, the… merciless badass who always accomplishes the mission at any cost, but to me? you’re just my little princess. whom i… sometimes use for my own amusement.”

ada hears your whispered words, and they cause a warm, bittersweet feeling to bloom within her heart, despite the harshness of your previous treatment of her. as you refer to her as "your little princess," she feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her, ranging from gratitude for the rare display of affection to confusion and frustration over why you insist on maintaining such a twisted dynamic between you two.

and then when she hears you mentioning using her for your own amusement… she decides that, yeah, no matter how sweet and gentle and loving you pretend to be, she decides that she hates you. no matter what you do, she’s going to hate you indefinitely for what you’ve done to her.

but then you run your fingers through her hair and press more kisses to her forehead and she can’t deny how it makes her feel. her brain is frazzled and confused, if it even can still produce coherent thoughts at all.

she remains silent for a moment, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it presses against her ear. “how… why do i feel so safe with you? after you just… did that..?”

you shrug, kissing her forehead, "not sure. i expected you to be a little more.. feistier, honestly.”

despite her defiance and determination to remain independent, ada can't deny the odd sensation of safety and comfort that comes from being held close to you, even while acknowledging the humiliation you've inflicted upon her. "maybe because i am so stubborn, you find it satisfying to break me down? to turn me into your perfect little princess?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability and longing for something deeper than just your sadistic games, “...am i your.. perfect little princess now?”

you chuckle deeply, and she likes the way it feel so warm and vibrates through your chest.. oh god she cannot be feeling this way about you. you’re a rapist. you took advantage of her, she never even had the chance to consent..

but you whisper, “of course you are. also, i'm sure you're wondering what this means for our... relationship going forward.”

“yeah, i… this.. changes things..” she stutters. “well, we’re going to have to pretend that it doesn’t. we’ll finish our mission just like we were supposed to, and then.. we’ll discuss the details in the future. for now, you should, like, actually go to sleep.”

she sighs, feeling a myriad of emotions, from love and hatred (towards you and herself) and anger and confusion and so much more, but eventually she falls back asleep, feeling oddly and confusingly safe in your arms. you fall asleep with her, and when morning comes, nothing has changed. ada is jarringly reminded of how awful you are as we wakes up in the morning to your fingers inside of her.

but she endures.

and when she puts her gear back on, and practically begs you on her knees (very pretty sight) for her panties back so she didn’t have to go commando on a mission in a short dress, she feels like herself again. she holds her gun in her hand and takes a deep breath, determined to move past this and get herself back together.

“you ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks back at you. you look somehow less threatening than you did last night, as if all of your actual weapons are less lethal than that fucking dildo you broke her mind with. she tightens her fists and remembers to breathe. ada is a survivor. she survived you. so she can survive this. she’s sure of it.

she looks back at her gun, wishing she could just shoot you point blank. she supposes she could if wesker wouldn’t be such a bitch about what happened to you. you’re practically the precious cargo she has to protect the whole goddamn time, forget the amber.

so she doesn’t, but… she imagines it. what an amazing picture that would be. she might just fantasize about it on the helicopter ride back.

“yeah... i’m ready.”

extended author’s note: i think the discussion of ‘whether or not it’s okay or acceptable to write/post/read dark content’ is really odd to me. i mean, we read about awful things happening to characters in books all of the time, and we never tell those authors that they shouldn’t write about those things. is the problem then romanticizing these topics? i could name plenty of published books that romanticize these same kinds of tropes that don’t get nearly as much backlash.

i don’t know if people who hate dead dove/dark content actually have a problem with it, or if they just have a problem with their beloved babygirl leon kennedy being portrayed as anything other than an innocent angel who could never do anything wrong. do i think leon would do half of the things he does on dc fics? no, but i do think people either 1) use dark content as a way to process their feelings and their traumas and 2) simply enjoy dark content because it’s taboo and, if replicated irl consensually, safely, and sanely, it’s also kinky and enjoyable.

i think it’s also especially hard for people who enjoy the reader being the perpetrator/dominant character in this kind of content because in the opposite kinds of fics, you’re not actively doing something bad to another people. you’re just letting something bad happen to you. there’s a lot of justified guilt for wanting to be the dominant person/perpetrator in these fantasies, but just because it’s justified doesn’t mean you *have* to feel bad. it’s okay to like things as fantasies that you would find reprehensible in real life. i just want to say that no matter what your kinks and interests are (as long as everyone in your fantasies is 18+), you are seen and valid for them to me. please take some time to remember that you are not a bad person for enjoying this, and ada wong is not a real person who can be harmed psychologically by me writing this content or by you enjoying it. and if you don’t enjoy it, that’s okay too! you’re welcome on my blog whether or not you enjoy this type of media.

as always, take care of yourself and read responsibly.

#resident evil smut #ada wong smut #ada wong resident evil #ada x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil 4 ada #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4r #re4r remake #re2 ada #resident evil imagines #moon.dc #moon.ncdc #moon.w

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bittersweetsadboi · 18 days ago

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So I've not watched a single episode of House of the Dragon, but I had dream that confused me and had me giggling uncontrollably. Rhaesaria never leaves my mind apparently.

I shall tell it in story form. Enjoy.

(Rhaenyra is busy looking for Dragon Riders via bastards like in the show but Vermithor does not claim any of them.)

With every group or person brought forward Vermithor rejects them. It's gotten to the point where he doesn't even kill them anymore.

He just huffs and lurks back into the shadows or turns his attention to the balcony where the Queen, Mysaria, Jace and any Guards or councilman stand watching in growing exasperation at his stubbornness.

Rhaenyra is gently banging her head against her desk trying to figure out what to do as their options dwindle with every trial.

"I had known Dragons to be specific in their choice of rider but not like this." Mysaria says softly as she slides a folded article of clothing under the Queens head, effectively ending her self abuse, though the head of white hair remains bowed on it.

"I do not understand, we have tried every drop of dragon seed, low and high born alike." Comes the Queens muffled reply.

"He does not even find them worthy enough to burn or eat. Instead he turns to us as if offended." Jace grumbles from his seat in front of the desk.

This has become a familiar scene. The three of them in the library or council room or the Queen' study, plotting and scheming. Though as of late it's more Mother and Son grumbling while the Mistress of Whispers paces silently, mind working overtime.

"There are still a small number of bastards that await their chance at being chosen, there is still hope." Mysaria says, stopping beside Jace as the Queen lifts her head.

"Have your Whispers gotten back to you about the others?" Jace asks, looking up at Mysaria with eyes so much like his mother. Curious. And intense.

"They have. A smaller group is traveling from further east." Mysaria answers.

"It is less likely that any of them will be claimed than those here on Dragon Stone." Rhaenyra states, staring blankly at the desk.

"Less likely, sure, but not impossible." Jace states, making his mother look up at him.

He gives her a gentle smile, one she can't help but return.

"Your confidence in this has remained steady in all this." She says, proud.

Jace nods his head in acknowledgement, glancing up at Mysaria who also smiles down at him, a small one, almost unnoticeable.

"Yes well, it's best not to lose faith now. We must remain hopeful, even if the odds are against us. You will claim back your throne, Mother. No matter how long it takes. I trust in you and our cause." He says, sitting straighter, chest puffed and voice strong.

Rhaenyra almost cries at his declaration, looking to Mysaria, who's eyes shine with the same devotion in her son's words.

Despite all this though, in the next few days and serval tries later, Vermithor also remains steadfast in his stubbornness. Still refusing to claim any riders. Even Silverwing had claimed someone at this point.

With the guards escorting the last of the group of bastards out the dragon pit, Rhaenyra marches herself down to where Vermithor waits. Jace and Mysaria looking at each other, shrugging.

The Queen gets right up in front of the Bronze Fury, almost puffing out smoke herself as she squares up at him, eyes a flame in frustration.

"I have brought every bastard and high born of dragon blood out from under every rock and still you refuse. What is it that you look for then? Is no one good enough?" She all but yells in frustration at him, not at all fearful, knowing that he won't harm her.

Instead he puffs out smoke at her, making her throw her hands up. He growls softly, shifting his big head slightly.

She turns to him, ready to vent some more when she sees his attention somewhere else. Following his line of sight, she turns to see Jace and Mysaria now joined on the balcony by Beala, serval nobleman and their guards.

Frowning, not really understanding his seeming fascination, she shakes her head and turns her heel. Clearly she has other things to do.

The next day a nobleman tries to claim Vermithor, and is unsurprisingly unsuccessful. Again, the Queen makes her frustration known. Again he ignores her and watches the balcony.

On the third try of this endless cycle Rhaenyra is close to tears, almost begging Vermithor to claim someone, anyone at this point. Still, he refuses and watches the balcony.

She stares at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What is it that you want?" She asks, almost a whisper.

Vermithor turns to her, looking her in her eyes, before turning back to stare at the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns as well. This time it's only Mysaria and Baela, who are watching with concern. The Queen frowns, looking back at the bronze giant. Then back at the balcony. Confused, feeling like she's missing something. She never gets the chance to figure it out as she's called for a meeting.

Day turns to night and the Queen is unable to sleep. Pacing her chambers. After about half a candle mark of this she takes to stalking the halls, before finding herself in the dragon pit once again.

Vermithor seems to have expected her, as he waits where she left him. She doesn't speak. She just looks at him, hoping he could just tell her what it would take to get him to cooperate.

He moves in closer and she puts her hand on his head, feeling his warmth, taking comfort in it.

"I am sorry." She says softly. He rumbles in acknowledgement.

They stay like that for a while before something seems to catch his attention. He lifts his head and, once again, watches the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns her own and her eyes find a lone figure resting against the balcony wall, watching them. Glancing between the figure and the Dragon, the Queen finally figures it out.

The next day Rhaenyra bursts into the library where Jace and Mysaria are bent over serval parchments.

They look up and frown at the Queen's sudden entrance and the clear excitement on her face, lavender eyes shining with a new found hope.

"Mother?"

"Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra strides up to them, Blood humming.

"I know who is to claim Vermithor." She says before grabbing them both by the hand and dragging them through the castle halls to the dragon pit.

Jace and Mysaria share looks of confusion and shock, unable to even speak as their Queen leads them.

Once reaching the pit, Rhaenyra pushes open the large doors and there, The Bronze Fury waits, seemingly also sharing in the Queens excitement.

Jace and Mysaria look around confused, not seeing anyone else around. They thought at least this person the Queen claims to be Vermithor's potential rider would be here as well.

Rhaenyra slides up to them, more specifically her Mistress of Whispers, gently taking her hand in her own, her other cupping a soft cheek and looking her in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Do you trust me?" She asks, voice softer than it's ever been.

Mysaria blinks in shock, mostly surprised by the Queen's open display of affection. Usually it's reserved for when they're alone.

"Of course." She answers, just as soft.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly and starts to slowly lead the dark haired woman towards the Dragon.

Jace breaks out his daze, still reeling from seeing his mother's fondness for her Lady clear for all of Westros to see. Not that he didn't know already. She only ever smiles like this when in her presence.

He steps forward and halts them in their advance, grabbing firmly on their interlocked hands.

"Have you lost your mind!" He says, glaring at his mother who looks at him in shock. A look mirrored by Mysaria.

"Jace-"

"I understand we are desperate but to just sacrifice anyone!" He says, enraged and forcefully breaks their hold on each other, stepping forward so Mysaria is behind him.

Rhaenyra stares wide eyed at her son's protective stance as he regards her. His eyes filled with confusion and something akin to betrayal.

"Jace I-"

"Just because he has not set anyone aflame in as many weeks does not mean he won't suddenly start again with one who is not of Dragon blood." Jace says cutting her off.

Rhaenyra stares as he looks her dead in her eyes, voice stronger than she's heard in a while.

"If you truly must attempt this trail, fine. But I beg of you Mother, choose anyone else. Not her." He's voice breaks slightly at the end, stepping back so he is closer to Mysaria, as if to emphasize his point.

This seems to break Rhaenyra out of her shock as her face softens. She smiles at her brave boy.

For some time now she has seen how Jace has gravitated towards her secret love. First it was small talk in the halls, then it was joining them in the library after council meetings.

Much like she had, he has started seeking Mysaria's council and even comfort when his mind won't let him rest.

Many times she has seen him, and even Baela, talking softly with Mysaria in the library.

Seeing the gentle smile the on Lady's face as she watched the young couple bicker. Giving them ideas for what to do to strengthen their relationship, and even the future wedding they wish to have.

More often than not, Jace and Baela would seek Mysaria's company, much like they would with her.

Rhaenyra looks behind her darling boy at her beloved. Apparently she was the only one who noticed all this if the absolute bewilderment on Mysaria's face is any indication.

Before anything else can be said, a deep rumble comes from behind her. She turns to look at Vermithor, who shifts impatiently, huffing as his eyes bore down at them.

Turning back to her son, who has not moved an inch from his place, she steps forward and cups his face.

"Believe me, my darling boy, I would not even think of doing this if I was not absolutely certain no harm would come to her." She tells him honestly.

He looks at her with tears in his eyes, not convinced.

"It's madness. She's not of Dragon blood. How do you know he will not hurt her or worse?" He asks, more like the young baby boy who used to sit in her lap when he was upset, rather than the brave man he has come to be.

Glancing behind him, Rhaenyra catches Mysaria's gaze, who's eyes ask the same question.

"Because he has already chosen her." She says completely serious, completely sure.

Mysaria's eyes widen, glancing between Vermithor and the Queen. The Dragon, almost as if to prove her point, bows his head slightly, eyes never leaving Mysaria.

"That's why he never claimed anyone else. He already has a rider. One he watched from a distance, waiting for her to claim him as well." Rhaenyra continues, looking back at her son.

Jace's mind runs through every trial and every interaction his witnessed and finally understands what his mother means.

Every time Vermithor has watched the balcony, there was only one common denominator in every pair or group of people that stood and watched back.

Mysaria.

He turns his head back, to look at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She looks at him, not entirely sure what to make of his expression.

Vermithor, tired of being ignored, huffs in annoyance. They turn to him and he tilts his head, trying to see around the Mother and Son who keep blocking his line of sight on his apparent chosen rider.

Rhaenyra turns back to them. Looking at Jace now.

"Do you trust me?" She asks.

Jace swallows a lump in his throat as he looks between his mother, the dragon, and the Mistress of Whispers.

He gives his answer by reaching back and taking Mysaria's hand. Then taking his mother's. Then he joins their hands and steps back, eyes still shining with tears.

Breathing a sigh of relief and gratitude, Rhaenyra looks to Mysaria, who remains silent as she nods her consent.

The Queen slowly leads Mysaria to Vermithor who eagerly waits. Once they're close enough, he moves his giant head closer until he's but an arms length away.

Not even waiting for any command or anything, he rests his head on the platform before them, eyes gazing deep into Mysaria's, seemingly ignoring Rhaenyra altogether.

She's almost offended but she gets it.

Mysaria stands frozen as she gazes down at this hulking beast. She has seen him burn and eat people with no mercy and yet here he is, like a puppy waiting for head pets from his favorite person.

Glancing at her Queen, who gives her and encouraging smile, she steels her nerves and slowly steps forward.

Lifting a hand, she rests it on his head and a sudden calm enters her bloodstream. Her body vibrating with the deep rumble of contentment she feels pass along the dragon.

Emboldened, she moves closer, resting her other hand on him, running them along his warm scales as he huffs softly, enjoying the attention.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly, happy and in awe as the two embrace the bond. Syrax's own cry of triumph heard in the distance.

Jace let's out a breathless laugh as he stares in absolute shock, a tear falling from his eye, running his hands through his curls, bewildered.

He looks around, still processing until his eyes land on the balcony where Baela stands frozen, eyes wide and jaw hanging. He chuckles and turns to make his way to her, excitement and new hope humming in his veins.

Once there, she turns to him, filled with questions. He answers as much as he can as they watch the trio in the pit.

Rhaenyra and Mysaria talking softly, arms around each other as they shower Vermithor in affection.

Baela let's out an all out belly laugh that has Jace raising an eyebrow at her. She just smiles smugly, eyes on pit.

"Father will die once he finds out."

#Next episode:#Daemon: That's not how that works.#Rhaenyra: I don't think he cares #Daemon: it's blasphemous.#Jace: You want to go down and tell him that.#Baela: he hasn't killed anyone in a while #Rhaenyra: Now that he has his chosen...who knows #Grandpa Vermithor: *Gremlin smiles*#rhaesaria #rhaenyra targaryen #mysaria #rhaenyra x mysaria #hotd

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blackcat419 · 2 months ago

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What was attempted with Alicent Hightower in Season 2 and why it failed

Using Enneagram type 6 to explain why and how Alicent’s character was assassinated

If you are familiar with the enneagram and assigning the types to characters, you’ve likely seen Alicent described in the following way. People claim she’s a type 1 because they’re obsessed with rules and rule following. I myself thought she was a type 2 because her character is focused around caregiving.

But while watching the LocalScriptMan’s type 6 video, he brought up Alicent as an example of a type 6.

The enneagram has 3 main clusters, each operating from a different emotion that drives them. Type 1 is in the gut cluster and their leading emotion is anger. Type 2 is part of the head cluster and their leading emotion is shame. And type 6 is part of the fear cluster and their leading emotion is… well fear. This doesn’t mean that one type only experiences one emotion but that when faced with stress, they have their primary emotion they go to.

Alicent’s lead emotion is fear. She’s anxious and fearful for herself, the lives of her friends, and the safety of her family. When that fear is made manifest and her family and friends are hurt, she gets angry. But after that anger fails to achieve her goal, to alleviate that fear, she becomes shameful.

So what’s Alicent’s primary core goal? What drives her? The safety of her family, specifically her children. And how does she achieve that goal? Unlike a type 7, she doesn’t run from her fear and anxiety and unlike a type 5 she doesn’t try to deeply understand what’s around her to understand that fear. She looks for security and consistency in the people and systems around her to try and stay safe. So when that trust and loyalty from people around her is broken, she has a stronger reaction than any other type because that’s her core fear being made realized, she isn’t safe with the people around her.

The type 6 has two subtypes within itself, phobic and counterphobic. Phobic 6 seek safety and security within groups while counterphobic 6 seek safety and security outside the normal systems around them. Think a loyal soldier vs an isolationist doomsday prep-er

How does a 6 grow and face their insecurities? They must gain bravery to escape finding their safety in system or being completely isolated.

I think the writers wanted to show alicent moving away from seeking the security of the throne and the power around it to being brave and finding security and bravery within herself. But the missed because Alicent is not being brave and protecting her family by putting herself in danger, she’s fulfilling her own deepest fear that her children are not safe with anyone, not even her.

So how could this have worked? Alicent needs to be brave when seeking her children’s safety and put herself in harms way to ensure their safety. She is partly doing that by walking into Dragonstone without any guards. But her deal with Rhaenyra should be more along the lines of her book counter part where she offers to split the kingdom or she could go further and offer Rhaenyra the throne if she lets her and her children leave Westeros. She could say that her seeking of the throne was originally to gain the power to ensure her family’s safety but that she now sees that the throne’s power only put her children in more danger. So when Rhaenyra says she must kill Aegon, have Alicent plead and beg that he won’t be able to sire any sons to challenge her then turn to anger and say her father was always right, Rhaenyra would kill her kids. This should then reinforce Alicent’s conviction for the throne because her children can’t even be safe outside of the system because the system will kill them.

Alicent’s character was ruined when the writers decided that she was okay with fulfilling her core fear.

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd discussion #alicent hightower #hotd critical

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celest1all · 1 year ago

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#DESIDERIUM: CHAPTER ONE

#PAIRING: [] draco malfoy x lupin!reader

#WARNINGS: [] depression, mentions of bad eating habits, 's about it for this one.

#AUTHORS NOTE: [] sorry it's so short guys ! i'm very sad atm and i just wanted to kick start this fic somehow lmao. enjoy :)

#DESIDERIUM MASTERLIST [] read the rest here <-

The worst part about depression isn't the sadness or the never ending pit of pain you somehow end up falling back into regardless of how happy your life is, it's the not feeling anything. No happiness, no sadness and not even anger itself can find its way into your body.

It's just empty.

And that's what she felt, every quaking moment of her day was filled by a gnawing sense of emptiness that nothing could fix. She tried everything, cigarettes, alcohol and even self harm. None of it seemed to heal the wounds inside her, only leaving more visible ones at that.

She found something else, a way to help herself - or atleast that's what she thought she was doing - and that was helping others, giving the people around her the love and care she believed they deserved.

You walked into the Great Hall, silently wishing that all the food was gone as you weren't particularly hungry in the first place. You scanned over the huge array of students trying to pinpoint the people you were closest to - and the people you made it your mission to protect and help no matter the personal cost.

Harry was the first to notice you coming over, the slight smile gracing his lips upon seeing you. He waved you over and alerted Hermione and Ron that you were there.

"Hey," he said lightly, moving over on the bench to let you sit down "how are you doing?"

His question caught you off guard a bit, no one really paid that much mind to how you felt. You shrugged the feeling off as believing that he only cared as you were the daughter of his late Godfathers best friend.

"I'm fine." You say with a plastered smile, hoping it wouldn't let you down now. It never did, but there was always a chance it might at some point.

Hermione and Ron didn't seem totally interested in your presence and Harry nodded at your answer, going back to the two other Gryffindors in front of him and animatedly conversating with them.

Deciding not to push the conversation - or any conversation for that matter - any further, you started looking around the Great Hall again. Your eyes ended up looking at the Slytherin table, the green and silver ultimately catching your eye.

You never really spoke with any of the Slytherins, there were a few minute long sentences with a few of them like Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. You like Blaise the most, he was nice. You had tripped over one of the other Slytherins foot (you were unsure if it was purposeful or not) and Blaise offered you his hand to help you back up. Ever since then, he would give you small smiles now and again, but you still didn't really speak a lot.

Blaise ended up noticing you daydreaming whilst staring at their table and smiled lightly at you, giving you a small wave. Jolting out of the trance you were in, you waved back, once again giving another fake smile that was getting all to easily to hide.

"Why you waving at her for?" Someone from beside Blaise spoke, he knew who it was though.

Blaise simply shrugged and turned to face Draco, "She's nice, I helped her one time."

Draco snorted at that, disgusted by the idea that one of his own was willing to help a Gryffindor - you no less. "You do know who she is, right?" He says snarkily. "She's Lupins daughter."

Blaise just shrugged again, not really sure of where to go from there. He decided to not continue the conversation and started speaking to Theodore Nott about something else, something irrelevant to you.

Draco looked at Blaise briefly and back to where you were in the Great Hall, you were staring deeply into the table in front of you, whilst still trying engage in any conversation that might potentially be thrown your way by the others. He couldn't understand why someone from his house would help you, and then continue to be civil towards you. You're not only a Gryffindor, but also a werewolf's daughter! Why was Blaise so willing to be nice to you?

The platinum haired boy was fascinated - no, he was confused and ultimately annoyed - about that fact, and what was so special about you. There couldn't be anything, right?

Draco wanted to find out why, and if there's one thing he prides himself on being, is that he will always get his way regardless of the consequences.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader angst #draco malfoy series

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kissesforsatoru · 2 years ago

Note

Haiii! I love your blog so much and I'm not sure if this has been requested or not?? Could I request Childe, Cyno and perhaps Ayato with a darling that quickly develops Stockholm Syndrome? QvQ;

Their darling probably tried to escape once, but only midway stopped herself and the moment she notices them, she runs back and apologies repeatedly? Earlier she was mortified with her situation, but now she fully submit. Their darling probably clings onto them sometimes, giving them a form of affection even if this relationship is extremely harmful.

Maybe their darling would even go as far as to defend//protect them if they're given the opportunity to even talk to others and they suspect things.

I hope this isnt a lot!

𓏲 ˖. pairing. . . cyno x reader, childe x reader

𓏲 ˖. summary. . . darling escapes without realizing they have stockholm syndrome

𓏲 ˖. warnings. . . general yandere themes, stockholm syndrome, punishments, descriptions of injuries (not graphic)

𓏲 ˖. warnings. . . i’m so sorry, but i couldn’t think of a way to do this for ayato so i decided not to include him . i hope that’s okay!

cyno is pissed when he comes home to find you gone, and it takes every ounce of self restraint in him to not flip the fuck out. he breathes slow and heavy as he looks in every possible place you could be, thoroughly making sure that you really aren’t there—and when he comes to the conclusion that you aren’t, he angrily storms out of the house to go look for you. he almost missed you, your frame hidden well behind a crate in front of the house, but he couldn’t have missed the weak cry that left your lips as he stormed by. he was honestly surprised when you tightly grabbed the fabric on his waist, crying as you murmured how sorry you were for trying to escape.

scenario ;

“what the fuck were you thinking?” he practically growled as he bent down to pick you up. you bite your lip and turn away from him, embarrassed by the whole situation, but you still cling to him despite how bad you’re feeling.

“i’m so sorry, please forgive me. i’ll never run away again.” you sob, shoving your face into his chest. cyno doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s angry because of how tightly he’s holding you against him. you’re sure there will be faint bruises where his fingers are later on, but you don’t really mind. you’re just happy to be back with him.

after running away, a group a eremites followed you until they had you cornered. all you could think in the moment was how scared you were, and that you wished cyno was there to protect you, because you knew he would. it made you sick to think about those things—you didn’t want to want him, you didn’t want to depend on him. you were lucky enough that you could run away from the eremites before they could catch you, and subconsciously you found yourself back at cyno’s house. you couldn’t help but cry as you realized the kind of situation your gotten yourself into.

“yeah, you fucking won’t. not after i’m done with you.” your lip quivers at the thought of what he might do to you, but you nestle further into him and try not to think too much about it for now—instead focusing on how warm and comfortable he’s making you feel in his arms.

childe panics when he realizes you’re not in your room anymore, instead probably deep into the snowy woods of snezhnya by now. his first instinct is to massacre all the fatui guards that let you escape, but when he realizes how dangerous it is for you to be out all alone, he quickly abandons the thought for the time being to go find you—and when he does, his heart nearly stops. you’re curled in the snow, breathe shaking and ragged as you shiver uncontrollably from the incessant coldness against your skin. he thought you were dead at first, and you might as well have been. he doesn’t hesitate to take your limp body into his arms, wrapping his fur coat around you tightly before taking you home.

scenario ;

you didn’t expect to wake up surrounded in warmth—really, you didn’t expect to wake up at all. after running away you quickly realized just how bad of an idea it was. you missed the warmth and comfort of childe’s house, as much as you hated to admit it. you desperately wanted to be tucked in his arms again where you were safe from the sharp biting winds and cool pricks of snow—in his arms where you were meant to be.

you did try to go back before he noticed, but you failed to realize just how bad the storm had gotten, and you quickly got lost. it was only so long before you’d collapsed in the snow, wrapping your arms tightly around your shivering body, trying to cling to the last bits of warmth you had left. you could barely feel anything as you passed out, your last thought being how you regretted ever leaving childe’s mansion.

the last thing you’d expected was to wake up wrapped in blankets near a fire, tucked tightly into childe’s side. at best, you thought that childe would’ve thrown you in a cell and kept you there for who knows how long to punish you for running away. but this was an outcome you wouldn’t dare complain about, because this was way better than all the horrible ways you could’ve died or been punished.

you grabbed his thick jacket tightly and nuzzled further into his warm body, the chill from earlier still lingering faintly. biting your lip you mustered up the courage to whisper an apology—one barely audible, but you knew childe heard when he hummed and wrapped another blanket around you.

maybe you’d be punished later, but right now you couldn’t help but enjoy the warmth childe provided you.

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fatale-distraction · 5 months ago

Text

Okay but bear with me tho cause I have Headcanons

The Dread Wolf prowled through the streets of Minrathous, careful to keep to the shadows, winding a convoluted path with unerring steps through the most obscure backstreets. Overhead, the sentinel towers floated, their lyrium-powered eyes scanning for his presence. They wouldn’t find him. His agents were scattered throughout the city, simultaneously sowing confusion and protecting the elven population of the city. The magisterium would see any elf breaking curfew as a threat, even the lowliest child slave wasn’t above suspicion. The innocent must be protected as much as possible.

He rounded a corner, and immediately stepped back behind the mortar wall as a spotlight swept by, clutching the final piece of his grand puzzle to his chest. The moment it passed, he hurried onward. An elderly elven man stumbled across his path, clinging to the hand of a young woman who froze at the sight of the mage before her.

“Go,” he hissed, gesturing behind him. “Quickly. Tell any others to get to their homes.”

“Thank you,” the girl stammered, staring up at him with large, luminous blue eyes. They weren’t the right color, but so similar it drove a knife into his side.

He pushed on.

“You are in violation of curfew—…”

A shadow flitted by on quiet feet and the scream of a guardsman was cut off with a barely perceptible snick of metal. Everything was going to plan.

“The Chargers have been spotted,” the shadow whispered as it followed his steps. “They’re guarding something, but our people haven’t been able to find out what. No sign of her.”

“She’s likely the very person they’re protecting,” Solas murmured back. “Keep eyes on them, but don’t interfere unless they move first.”

The agent hesitated. “I don’t think it is her. There’s a rumor she was seen on the other side of town. Same area the Blue Wraith report came from. It’s possible The Chargers are merely a distraction, but…”

“Just keep tabs on both of them,” snapped the Dread Wolf. “And get back to work.”

The shadow melted away and Solas picked up his pace again, tugging his hood down more firmly. It didn’t bode well that Cremisius had let the former Inquisitor out of his sight, even accompanied by the most famed Slaver Slayer of the current age. He needed to hurry.

As Solas rounded another labyrinthine corner, he nearly stumbled over a small, shivering bundle pressed against the crumbling brick and swore. The creature squealed in terror and scuttled away. There was a flash of wild reddish-brown curls and fearful violet eyes. The wrong color, both, yet the same. He skidded to a halt and stared. The little bundle pressed further into the shadows, its cloak pinned at the shoulder with an all too familiar golden eye.

Solas crept forward, heart in his throat, stashing the final artifact within the folds of his cloak. The tiny cloaked figure shied away and whimpered, trembling all over. He reached forward and pulled the hood back. His own eyes stared back at him, wider, wetter, and younger. Unruly curls he knew like the back of his hand, the same color his own hair had been so many centuries past. His nose. Her rose-bud lips. A perfect chimera of their shared features.

“No,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes. “No, that’s not—…” But it was possible. She’d tracked him down not long after the Exhalted Council, specifically to yell at him. There hadn’t been much yelling.

That was almost seven years ago. And this fearful little waif couldn’t be much younger than six. He reached for her again and she shrieked, covering her face with tiny, pale hands.

“No!” She squealed. “Please don’t eat me, Dread Wolf! I won’t run away anymore, please!”

His face fell. He could feel his heart shatter like glass, the icy shards dropping down through his stomach. “Oh,” he breathed, kneeling beside her. “No, no, no, please don’t cry…I won’t harm you, da’ean.”

The child continued whimpering, curling in on herself. Watching the terror in her eyes, his own face reflected in irises he’d never forget, the image distorted by tears, tore at him as truly as a wolf’s teeth. As gently as he knew how, Solas tentatively took her by the arms and helped her to stand. When she jerked away and stumbled into the wall behind her it was like a punch to the gut.

“Where is your mother?” Whispered Solas, reaching out to take her hand even more slowly. She eyed him with an all-too-familiar suspicion, but allowed the contact, though her fingers shook.

“She went with the glowing man,” the girl sniffed and squared her little shoulders in sudden defiance. “I wanted to go with, but my Krem said I had to stay. I don’t want to stay, I want to fight with mamae, I want to fight the Dread Wolf!”

Solas couldn’t help the devastated smile that pulled at his lips. “And, da’len? What do you think, now that you’ve found him?”

The child considered him, scrubbing her face with a grubby paw. She set her chin, the same way she always had. “I don’t think you’re very scary at all,” she insisted. “You’re just tall and bald.”

An ugly snort burst from him before he could stop it. “Well, you’re quite right,” he allowed. “What is your name?”

“Mahriel,” she replied. “I already know your name. It’s Fen’Harel.”

“Yes. And your mother? What is her name?”

“Mamae.”

“Her name, child, what is her given name?”

“Her name is Mamae,” insisted Mahriel in a tone that suggested she thought him to be terribly, regrettably stupid.

Solas sighed and stood, still holding onto the girl’s hand. She was so little he nearly had to bend at the waist. “I see. At any rate, it’s not safe for you to be wandering the streets alone. There are people much more scary than I who wouldn’t shy away from harming a child.”

“More dangerous than you?” She asked quietly.

Solas gave her a grim smile. “No.”

She considered this and seemed to come to the conclusion that as long as she had the more dangerous scary person on her side, the other scary people shouldn’t pose much of a problem. “Okay.” She lifted her arms and, clearly unaccustomed to being disobeyed, commanded him. “Up.”

“Yes, my lady,” the Dread Wolf replied soberly, lifting the child easily into his arms. “I’ll see you safely back to…”

“My Krem,” she supplied. The girl put her hand to his ear with a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t want Mamae to know I escaped. She’ll be very angry at him.”

“I’m sure.”

Moving through the streets with a priceless artifact had been difficult enough. This precious package was far more nerve-wracking. Every sweep of the sentinel buildings sent a jolt through his heart, every sound was a potential threat. Where before the adrenaline had been an exhilaration, now just shook him down to his bones. One of his agents bolted by, skidded to a screeching halt, turned around and gaped openly. Solas scowled, made a violent gesture, and they scampered off, tossing a bewildered look over their shoulder.

He needed to hurry before word spread too far.

The last thing he needed just now was an ‘I told you so’ lecture from Merrill.

Who was in charge here, anyway?

“What the FUCK do you mean, she’s GONE?!”

The roof of the skeevy bar shook and glass bottles rattled on the shelves. Krem alone stood before the former Inquisitor, head bowed in shame.

“I don’t know how she escaped, one minute she was here, and then—…”

“You got outsmarted by a six-and-a-half year-old CHILD!” roared Ellana. Fenris leaned against the wall behind her, glowering.

“Grim and Stitches are already out looking for her—…”

The small elven woman grabbed her friend by the front of his armor and yanked him down to her height. “My daughter,” she enunciated through furious tears. “My precious elvhen daughter is wandering around the streets of Minrathous BY HERSELF, during a lockdown, with swarms of Fen’Harel’s agents and Venatori forces crawling about in the middle of the night. And you sent TWO men out after her?”

“Dalish and Skinner are out there, too.”

“Oh, FOUR! That makes me feel so much better, Krem.” Ellana turned to speak to her body guard over her shoulder. “FOUR people out looking for my daughter, Fenris, whom I birthed from my own body at great expense to my health.”

The Blue Wraith snarled an oath. “Shall I go?”

“You’re supposed to be guarding Her Worship,” argued Krem.

“And you were supposed to guard a CHILD,” snapped Fenris, lips curling in rage as he pushed away from the wall and advanced.

“Stop it, both of you,” demanded Ellana, shouldering between the two men before it could come to blows. She raked trembling fingers through her bright red curls, then dropped her hand to rub at her left elbow. It had been almost eight years since the unexpected amputation, and it still ached sometimes. Particularly when emotions ran high. “I’ll go look for her myself. Fenris with me, Krem…”

He looked so thoroughly dejected it broke her heart. The mercenary loved that little girl like his own from the start. She sighed. “Stay here in case she turns up. She’ll be scared and she’ll need you.”

“Yes, Your Worship,” he choked out.

The door to the bar creaked open and all three adults whirled, two swords came unsheathed, and hand-held crossbow found its way into Ellana’s hand.

A small, reddish blur blasted into Ellana, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Mamae!”

“Mahriel!” Her mother cried out, scooping the child into her arms with a fresh burst of tears. Fenris and Krem exchanged relieved looks and sheathed their weapons. Krem slumped against the bar with a groan while the other man turned to secure the door. “What were you thinking, running away from your Krem?! Glowy Man nearly gutted him, and I hadn’t even decided on all the terrible things I was going to make him do!”

“Thanks,” Krem deadpanned from his slumped position.

“Stop calling me that,” Fenris grumbled from his post by the door. His eyes searched the darkness outside through the high peep-hole carved through the wood, but saw nothing but still shadows.

“I was even considering making Krem scrub my chamber pot,” scolded Ellana.

“No!” Her daughter wailed into her bosom, repentant tears streaming down her fat cheeks. “No, don’t make my Krem clean your stinky chamber pot! It was my fault! I tricked him! I’m so sorry, Krem!”

The mercenary just groaned, massaging his temples. “I’m never having kids…” he muttered to himself. “They’re too much trouble, and that one’s not even mine. No kids, not ever.”

His smile ached as the Dread Wolf perched on the roof of the reappropriated bar, listening to the litany of relieved admonishments. She hadn’t changed much, not where it counted. She was still patently incapable of being serious for longer than a moment, still full of kindness even when overcome by righteous fury. Still full of love, even for those who had let her down so terribly. Solas risked a small peek through a knot in the wooden roof. The little girl was now clutched in Cremisius’ strong arms and sobbing out her apologies while her mother recovered with an impressive swig from the first bottle she could get her hands on.

There would be discussions. Later. First he would string his spymaster up by their thumbs and demand to know just how in the ever-loving fuck they’d managed to overlook the existence of a whole entire child for nearly seven years. Then he’d find Ellana and if he could resist shaking her bodily, demand an explanation, regardless of whether he deserved one or not. If there was time, he’d ask Krem how a six year old had outsmarted him.

But for now…He double-checked that the artifact was still safely stowed in his cloak pocket. It was the last piece. Now all that remained was to return to Arlathan Forest and begin.

He had to move quickly.

The Dread Wolf took one last look. Ellana had wrestled her daughter back from her friend and was cradling her close, stroking her hair and murmuring softly. Krem stood at her side, his hand on the former Inquisitor’s shoulder. Fenris, however, stood protectively over all of them, staring straight up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword.

The Dread Wolf fled.

#dragon age #ellanasha lavellan #solas #solavellan #okay but what if tho #solavellan baby #da4 #dragon age 4 #the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #writing down fataleities

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