#where there is just a drop down menu for simple things like tables that you can just fill out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fanficsformyfaves · 4 months ago

Text

I Don't Wanna Live Forever Pt.2

Rhea Ripley x Fem Prostitute!Reader (Pt.1)

WARNING: ANGST, Depressive Episode, Harassment, Bar Fight, Violence, Confrontation, Confessions, Hurt to Comfort

PREFACE: Reader was Rhea's favorite girl to call on a Saturday night, but little did she know that the wrestler was falling harder and harder with each visit

A/N: Special Appearance by The Judgment Day!

Shed a couple tears over this, but it's cool

The radio silence was unbearable. It had been weeks and with each day that passed, I began to regret what I did more and more. If I'd truly done the right thing, why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel like I'd just lost a part of myself losing her? I had only myself to blame, so it was unfair of me to be angry at her, but I was.

I was angry at the longing stares and the gentle caresses against my bare skin. I was angry at the inside jokes and little secrets that were shared beneath her sheets. I was angry at all the nights we spent in each others arms. All the things that got me in this mess in the first place, but most of all...I was angry at myself.

Angry that I was too much of a coward to tell her that her feelings were in fact reciprocated.

With where my head was at and how devasting everything was, I decided to completely resign from the service that was using me. In no world could I imagine continuing to be in other peoples beds, when all I wanted was to be in hers. Out of every low point I'd hit before, this was by far the worst one.

I could barely get out of bed without tears immediately streaming down my face. Days felt empty and nights felt suffocating like my body knew something was missing. Even simple tasks like eating and breathing had now become burdensome.

I didn't know whether or not I'd make it out of this one, but by some miracle, I was met with a chance at starting over.

An old friend of mine that used to work with me in the same service recently reached out upon hearing about my departure from one of the other girls. I found out, shortly after leaving, that she got a job at a bar closer to the city and that they were hiring new drink-runners. The pay was decent and I needed something to keep me busy, so of course, I said yes to being interviewed.

I sent in my resume, went in on Monday and the next morning, I got a call saying I was hired, which brings us to right now.

The night started of fine with me just serving the drinks and food, when I heard the bell signaling someone came in. It was a group of obnoxiously loud men that immediately had me and my friend rolling our eyes. I picked up some menus and reluctantly headed over to the table they chose.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Placing down the laminated papers.

"No fucking way!", I heard one of them exclaim,

And when I turn to see who it was, my heart dropped. It was a guy that I previously serviced.

"Yes?", I asked,

Playing clueless.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't recognize me...or the fun little night we had"

I could tell by the way he slurred his words that he was incredibly drunk. His group immediately began snickering and raking their eyes up and down my body.

"I'm sorry, sir. You must be thinking of someone else"

"Nah, I'd recognize those tits anywhere", he declared,

Causing 'oohs' to echo from the table.

I held my composure and took a deep breath through my nose.

"Excuse me, gentlemen", I said,

Walking away and heading back to the bar.

"What's up?", my friend asked,

Seeing the irritated expression on my face.

"Old clients at table 6"

"Ugh, again? Do they not have jobs? They're here every night"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you haven't been scheduled past 8 yet, so you were lucky enough not to run into them", she explained,

"Well, I guess I'm shit outta luck now", I joked.

And as if the universe couldn't have had worse timing, another group walks in and the sinking feeling in my chest had now become a burning sting.

"Wait, isn't that-"

Before my friend could get her words out, I immediately hid in the kitchen. I hear her calling out to me as I left, but didn't bother turning back to look.

Out of any place on earth and out of any bar, she just had to show up at the one that I work at? This had to have been some sick joke. What was I meant to do now? It's not like I could just leave and risk getting in trouble on my second week.

I stayed still a few minutes to recollect myself and once I was successful, I take in one last deep breath, before heading back out.

"You've got this", my friend reassured,

Handing me four menus.

I made my way towards her table and the closer I got, the harder it became for the both of us to ignore the other's gaze.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Putting on my best customer service voice.

"I'll take chicken tenders", the one with the mullet answered,

"We both want steaks, medium rare", the tallest added on,

As I jotted down their orders.

"Alright and...for you, miss?", I asked,

The hesitance in my voice giving my nerves away.

"Just some gin for now", she answered,

Avoiding eye contact.

As painful as it was, I decided against asking any further questions at the risk of making things any more uncomfortable.

"Those should be right out", I nod my head,

Walking off, but as I was headed towards the serving hatch to put the orders in, I felt a hand grab my wrist.

"What time do you get off?", the asshole from earlier questioned,

Causing me to rip my arm away.

"Excuse you", I scolded,

Going to turn away, when he grabbed me by the arm next. I could feel the panic start to set in and my eyes start to water.

"Get off, seriously", my words trembled,

"Oh, what? Does the slut think she's too good for m-", his sentence was cut short by a tissue holder hitting the back of his head,

Causing him to fall over.

"She said get off", Rhea warned through gritted teeth,

"Handle this, I'm taking her home", she ordered her friends,

They all turn to each other smirking, before sauntering over to the table full of the guy's friends. They all immediately took off, leaving him behind to fend for himself.

"Come on", she urged,

"My shift isn't over", I shakily muttered,

She sighed, taking out her wallet.

"Dom, make sure to let the manager knows what happened and that (Y/N) went home", she instructed,

Pulling out a couple hundreds, before dropping them on the table.

"You got it, mami", he said,

Picking up the guy and dragging him outside with the help of the other two men.

"Wait, what are they-"

"Doesn't matter. Come on", she throws an arm over my shoulder,

Leading me outside and helping me into her car. The last thing I saw before driving off was the three men completely pummeling the guy into a pulp. Not to say he didn't deserve it, but, I still couldn't help but feel uneasy.

The car ride wasn't much help either. Besides the quite hum that came from the engine and the passing cars, it was mostly silent. She must've noticed, as her hand gently gripped my knee in an attempt to calm me down.

"Are you hurt?", she finally spoke,

"My arm's sore", I answered hesitantly,

Causing her to let out a shaky exhale through her nose.

He did yank me pretty hard, so I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up to a handprint on me.

"We're almost at mine", she lets me know.

As if I didn't already recognize the street we were on. I mean I'd been down this road too many times not to.

"We're here"

She pulls into her driveway and gets out to open my door for me. She then leads me into the house, urging me to take a seat on the sofa.

"I'll get an icebag. Wait, here"

"It's fine-"

Before I could object, she had already left the living room.

The tension was so apparent, I felt it in my bones. She was cold and guarded, but I had no right to fault her for it. I was the one who ended things and now, I had to lay in the bed I made.

She returns with the ice and lifts my sleeve to press it against the bruise, causing me to wince at the ache.

"Who was that guy, anyways?", she questioned,

"An old client. I don't work there anymore though"

For the first time this whole evening, her eyes finally met mine.

"What?"

"I quit last month. I couldn't do it anymore", I admitted,

As her gaze softened.

"Why?"

"It's not important", I tried to brush off,

"(Y/N)"

"It doesn't matter-"

"(Y/N)", she called sternly,

Causing tears to prick at my eyes.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No-"

"Then what?"

What was I meant to say? That I was the cause of my own hurting? That I left the only life I'd known because someone showed me that I deserved better than that? That that person was her?

"Then...what?", she pressed further.

With a single tear rolling down my cheek, I finally confessed.

"Because of you", my voice waivered.

Her eyes widened, as she slowly put the icepack down.

"Since the last time we spoke, I've been going through the worst time"

A tear rolled down my cheek and my entire body began to chill. Her brows met in a sadness that was too deep to describe.

“I thought I could get over it, but I couldn’t have been more wrong and it didn’t hit me till I left your house”

“Then why did you?”

“I…”

It was as if all the words were caught in my throat with no way out.

What was I meant to say? What could I say? Anything I thought of wouldn’t excuse the way I’d walked out on her. I would be lucky if she could’ve even look me in the eyes again, much less forgive me.

“I was a coward”

She shakes her head, averting her gaze down to her lap.

“So much so that it made me lose you”

I hear a sigh and I couldn’t decipher whether she was disappointed or annoyed.

“I should’ve stayed. I should’ve given this a fighting chance. It was unfair, cruel and undeserved. You were the first person to show me kindness and it scared me. I didn't know how to receive that kind of care and I know that isn't an excuse, but that was the reason and I can't tell you how sorry I am"

The silence was the most painful part. It sent knives straight through my chest and there was nothing I could do to alleviate that burn.

“I understand if you want me to leave. I deserve that”, I sobbed,

Picking at the lose thread on my uniform, when she takes my hand.

“I don’t want that”, she finally spoke,

"You leaving did hurt me and it was something that I thought I'd be angry for, but...I wasn't. I was sad. Sad because I thought you didn't care for me the way I cared for you. You were my favorite part of every single waking moment. Your laugh, your smile, the way you talk, the heart you have, I've never seen anything like it"

I felt every piece of me break with each word.

"This whole time, that's all I could think about. That you didn't feel the same", she continued,

Gathering her own tears now.

"Rhea", I muttered,

Taking her face into my hands.

"You don't understand how much I love you"

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley oneshot #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley smut #demi bennett

171 notes · View notes

zomtart · 23 days ago

Text

The Anatomy of a Stranger (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

This was supposed to be a fluff fic…oops!

Tuna-Tober Day 3: Broken

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: reader and frank are broken up, second chance, ends happily…or does it:D

Word Count: 1.1k

In simple words, the run-down diner was not where you wanted to be. You were given shitty hours, shittier pay, and the shittiest treatment from customers. The only upside was that it was close to your new apartment, so at least you didn’t have a long walk before you could crash into bed.

Though lately, sleep felt like a scarce thing. All your classes had been scheduled early, an aspect that made you want to drop out of medical school more than you usually did. The promise of finally achieving your dream kept you going, even if you were doing it a little later than most aspiring doctors would. After your gap year had turned into a gap decade, you were certainly at a disadvantage from time.

You were so focused on keeping your eyes open that you didn’t realize Frank had walked through the door and sat down at the table in the corner. All you knew was that the bell on top of the door had rung, and therefore you had someone to get a menu to.

It was around two AM when you slid the laminated piece of paper to the table, your gaze fixed on your notepad as you pulled it out from your pocket and got ready to write.

“Hello, what can I--”

The words died in your throat as you looked up and met Frank Castle’s gaze. The breath seemed to lock in your chest, a feeling of shocking numbness blooming across your body.

Frank didn’t fare much better, but he certainly had a skill at hiding it. While your mouth had fallen to the floor and sat there, he simply clenched his jaw, silent as he waited for you to gain your footing. You wish you could know what he was thinking. Did seeing you even affect him? Was he hurting like you were?

He looked like he always did, which was to say, like he just got the shit beaten out of him. A deep red mark ran across his nose, suggesting it was broken for the umpteenth time. He had a black eye, and at the edge of his collarbone where his shirt dripped down, a purple bruise peeked out across his skin. Even after all this time your hands itched to go towards him. To help. To heal, or, if that was impossible as it often was, to soothe. You still remembered the feeling of his skin like it was yesterday. The rough drag of it against your fingers. The way he’d pull your hand away when you traced a scar, like he could somehow shield you from the gallery of them right in front of you. Like you couldn’t handle it. Like you didn’t have scars of your own.

You tore your gaze away from his body and instead stared at your notepad. Nevermind the goddamn luck you wanted to curse the sky for, the luck that had placed Frank fucking Castle in this small-town diner when you hadn’t seen him in nearly two years. If you could just keep your eyes off him, maybe you could get through it.

You cleared your throat. “What can I get for you?” you ask, though you already knew the answer. The bastard had always needed constant caffeine for his nightly…endeavors. Part of you wished he had stopped doing that. Not that you thought about him.

“I’ll just have a black coffee, ma’am. Thank you.”

You know he meant it as a show of respect, respect that you would show a stranger, but hearing that word out of his mouth made you want to slap him. How dare he call you that? Like he hadn’t ripped your life apart? Like he hadn’t known he was the only person in the entire world you felt understood you, really knew you, and then left you? What did he know about respect?

You simply gritted your teeth and nodded, turning around. As you walked back to the coffee bar you surveyed the diner, noting there was only one other patron in the diner besides Frank. There was a chef in the back, but you hardly saw him during these night shifts, the plates of hot food seemingly magically appearing after you leave an order slip. This was one of the only times you wished the place had been crowded so the noise could drown out the thoughts in your head. Mask the feeling you had gotten so good at pushing down.

When you came back with his coffee, cursing yourself for how your hands shook when you set the mug down, he pitched his voice low and asked quietly, “You running the place all by yourself?”

“No.” you mumbled quietly, setting a couple sugar packets down on the table even though you knew he took it black. “Someone’s in the back.”

He nodded, looking around the diner again.

You should have left. You should have turned around and walked away. He wouldn’t order anything else. He’d stay there with his coffee for no more than an hour, and then he’d leave. You’d never have to see him again.

You should have left.

“...you look like shit.” you said quietly.

He laughed, and it was the best sound you’d ever heard. It was like sunshine after a long winter, or coming home after a vacation.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Are you…safe?” you said, and you wanted to kick yourself for how small you sounded. You hated to admit it, but you cared about him. You probably always would. The sight of his bruised face still made your chest tighten.

“I’m actually…” there was a long pause, and for some reason it felt hopeful. “Yeah. I’m safe. Think I’m…I’m done.”

“Done?” the word flew out of your mouth as soon as he said it. “Done? Done with…with…”

He shrugged, taking a sip from his coffee. You murmured something about how shitty the brew here was. He laughed again.

“Yeah. Trying, at least. To be done.”

“...oh.”

“Yeah.”

It should have been awkward. It probably was to anyone who would have watched, if the diner hadn’t been so empty. But it felt like you were back in your old apartment, curled up in bed with him. It was like when you knew someone so well that even silence felt like a conversation. That you had something that progressed beyond words. You thought that…thing had disappeared, that it had been broken beyond repair. But here it was, like it had never left.

@tunatober

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x oc #anyway don't be a stranger #the punisher #the punisher x reader #tuna tober #tuna-tober #tunatober #tuna tober 2024

91 notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 8 days ago

Text

Dying’s Up To Me - A No Love Lost Prologue

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: This is just straight sad angst. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.

Title from Dog Years by Halsey

Word Count: 4k

Summary/Warnings: A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. All the warnings. Mentions of suicide, isolation, and SA without depiction (not by Soldier Boy).

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst.

You escaped. You’re looking up and down the highway, at the green trees, all reaching up to the warmth of the sun, and you’re free.

You’re really, finally fucking free.

There’s soot and ash and grime covering your body, but you’re fucking free. You’ve been running for almost a day, and you’re about to collapse, but Homelander isn’t going to find you. He’s not allowed to find you. You’ll burn the whole world before you go back to the lab or the white room. You’ll figure out a way to kill yourself before you go back.

Right now, though, is about going. Just keep fucking going, until you find somewhere that hurts a little less. Not home—you don’t think you’ll ever have home again—but shelter. A place to figure out what comes immediately next, and nothing beyond that. Somewhere empty, where you can’t hurt anyone.

You really don’t want to hurt anyone. There are still the screams and pleas of the scientists and guards ringing in your ears, and their callous, arbitrary expressions had haunted your days, but their melting, flame-twisted faces would follow you into nightmares for the rest of your life. But there hadn’t been another way. You have to keep reminding yourself that there really hadn’t been another way, and you’d never do it again. If you have to, you’ll lock yourself away to never hurt anyone again.

At least this time it would be your choice. And Homelander wouldn’t be there. Nobody would touch you, and that would be fine. Anything would be better than these past few years. Loneliness would be simple, compared to eyes on you always. Cruel blue eyes, telling you that you should be lucky and grateful and to stop fucking crying. Red hands holding you down, and a cold body-

No. You won’t think about it. You won’t let him have that power over you. Another rule, nobody is allowed to have that power over you again. To consume your life like that, and tell you a single fucking thing about yourself.

You find a rest stop, and the sign on the side tells you that you’re still in upstate New York, but the highway markers say you’re at least 30 miles from where you started. And you need some food, and water, and clothing, but you don’t have any money. You don’t have fucking shit, except a foreign, painful itch under your skin and scorched cloth covering your body. You don’t even have shoes, but the heat of the pavement doesn’t hurt you, and if you’ve stepped on glass at any point, there’s no evidence of it.

But you’re still so hungry. And tired. And you just want to sit down and wear something that doesn’t smell like smoke and guts and sanitizer.

And there’s a car with the windows open, and a wallet in the cupholder. No owner in site, the lot itself practically empty.

You take the risk—only forty dollars, and the car is a Tesla, so you don’t feel that bad—and shuffle into the rest stop. You can afford some chips, and a water bottle, and so much New York themed clothing someone would think you’re a sponsor of the state. A hoodie, sweatpants, and a baseball cap and sunglasses that you wear indoors for safety. There’s a Wendy’s in the building, so you get the largest, most disgustingly greasy burger on the menu and drop yourself at one of the food court tables. Ignoring any stares in your direction, you focus on the news—playing on a high-mounted TV without sound—and eat.

Things have changed since you’ve last been outside. A lot of things have really changed. That blonde supe, with the light powers who’d only just joined the Seven before you’d died in every way that mattered, has renounced it. Vought, the Seven, the whole supe-kebab. The newscasters are talking about how she’s accused Homelander of being an abusive, manipulative psychopath, that’s a danger to America and everyone alive.

You could’ve told them that. You have three years of testimony to that very fact, plus a little more you never want to think about again.

Queen Maeve is missing. You’d take a safe bet Homelander’s got something to do with that as well, because when you’d seen him last he was sneering at you about how the only people he respected always fucking betray him, and made you promise once more to never lie to him or hurt him or pretend to know better than he did. You had, because you didn’t have a choice, and the rest of that day was locked deep inside your brain, in a place you’d never open.

Someone who’s apparently very infamous named William Butcher—you’d heard that name before, but you’re not sure where—is working with Soldier Boy, who’s somehow alive and also a threat to America. That’s interesting. Not the threat to America part—you’d take a pretty safe bet than any man with V in his body and sparkling TV persona is dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted—but the alive part. It explained Homelander’s complaints of nobody is stronger than he is last time, and his joking, menacing order to the scientists to not make you too powerful.

You didn’t care about powerful. You didn’t really care about most things anymore, and you’re not sure where you’re going from here, but it’s never within a million fucking yards of Homelander, or Vought, or anything else that might trap you and hurt you. Hopefully this William Butcher guy and Soldier Boy will kill Homelander, and he won’t be your problem again. Blondie can deal with the whole those guys are a threat to America thing after, because right now—as long as they’re only targeting Homelander—you just need it done. A dead Homelander, fast, and quick, and done, so nobody ever had to hurt like this again.

From the rest stop, you wander for a long while more. Down the highway, scratching at your skin to keep the fire in your body, never touching anyone, and stealing money out of cars to keep yourself alive. At one point, you find a public library in a small town—hidden deep in the Berkshires with tall trees that shield you in green light from anyone in the sky—and google yourself.

You’re dead. Very dead. Three years ago you’d died by suicide, leaving a note that said you were jumping off a bridge, and nobody had looked into it further beyond that. Your father had written your obituary, calling you smart, and kind, and determined. And that was it.

Nothing left to go back to.

You make two rules. One, you can never touch anyone again, because you can feel what they feel and it’s not fair.

Two, you’ll never be peaceful again, and that’s fine. You’re too broken to live any sort of normal life, and you’ll be alone, but it’s for everyone’s safety. You’re a danger, Vought’s a danger, and Homelander’s the worst danger of all.

Because Soldier Boy and William Butcher had failed you—they didn’t even fucking know you, but you were still annoyed about it—and Homelander was still fucking alive. Soldier Boy was dead himself, Queen Maeve was dead as well, and even though the news said Homelander was on trial for killing someone in broad daylight, you don’t think that will go anywhere. He was pleading innocent, like a fucking cunt, and a jury would buy it. He had—allegedly—killed that guy for his son, Ryan, who was a very sweet looking boy that you’d heard some very confusing things from Homelander about. How Ryan was strong, and he was proud to have a son, even if the son’s mother was a bitch who’d died like a fucking cockroach. How Ryan was still too human, and was being so mean to Homelander, siding with William Butcher over his own father-

Oh. That’s where you’d heard the name Butcher before. He was the guy that Homelander was always complaining about being an annoying inconvenience, ruining his perfectly good life, always trying to kill him when that was impossible.

Killing Homelander was impossible. Soldier Boy hadn’t done it, and even Blondie—you’ve learned her supe name was Starlight, and her real name is Annie January—had said she thought he could. To be fair, every news report you could find said that Soldier Boy went insane at the end, trying to kill everyone around him without remorse, but it really doesn’t matter in the long run, because Homelander is still alive, and unkillable.

You should leave. You should run and never look back, find somewhere far across the ocean with sunlight and grass and a sky that won’t ever be watching you. But you need to see your grave first. It feels important, for some stupid fucking reason, to sit at your grave and ensure that there’s some evidence you existed. Some proof that, at least before, you were loved and safe. A remnant of that part of you, that will never exist again.

It’s not a fancy gravestone. When you find it—after another week of walking and stealing and trying not to scream at the sky in case it hears—it actually looks a little pathetic. It has your name, and your birthday, and the day that you “died”. It says loving daughter and sister, and that’s it. No real epitaph, just loving daughter and sister.

And you can’t bring yourself to leave. You think you might rot away here, because you can’t actually die, but you can stop being alive. In every way that counts, you’re not alive. You’re alone and cold and the wind is biting at your ears at night, despite the suffocating heat of the day. It rains, a heavy thunderstorm that lasts two nights, and you don’t flinch or catch a cold. So you’ll stay here, and try not to think about how you weren’t a loving daughter or sister. Your mother hated you, and you saw your father once a month but barely spoke outside of that, and all your siblings might have loved you, but you’ll never forgive yourself for leaving them.

Your whole life before this had been about helping people, and all that’s left is a gravestone with a lie about how good you were. No legacy, no flowers resting on the grass in tribute. Only you in the dark, staring at a name that might not be yours anymore, and watching the pine trees in the graveyard sway in the wind of the night.

“You knew her?”

You almost jump out of your skin—nobody visits this place, and you’d come to expect solitude—whipping around to see a large, dark-skinned man with an Outkast shirt, gold chain, and leather jacket standing at your side.

“Sorry?”

The man says your name, nodding to your grave stone. “You knew her?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, keeping your face bored and tone neutral. You don’t know who the fuck this guy is, or why he’s at your grave, and you don’t trust it. You don’t trust anything anymore. “Not well, though. You?”

“Never met her.” The man shrugs. “But I’m a true crime fan, thought I’d look into whatever the fuck happened to her.”

Your nails dig into your skin as you force yourself to remain completely fucking indifferent. “I thought she killed herself. Not much true crime in that.”

“Please.” The man makes a dismissive gesture, and you blink. “Nobody ever found a body, and that’s the first fucking rule of death. You always need to see the body.”

“She jumped off a bridge-“

“Or something else happened.” The man is watching you now, studying your face carefully. You’re going to bite off your tongue. “Something more true crime. You knew her. She seem like the type to kill herself?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah, actually. She did.”

The man gives you a frown of light surprise. “Really?”

“She wasn’t exactly a happy person.” You mutter, trying not to choke on bile. “I mean, her life was fine, but she was lonely. History of mental illness, maybe she snapped.”

You wish this man would leave. Just fucking leave you alone, so you don’t have to think about this. You had been lonely, but not like you are now. Things had been getting better before, you’d been getting better before, and now nothing would ever be better again.

But the man hums, still watching you, and stays. “Tragic shit.” He extends his hand. “Marvin Milk, by the way. You?”

You recognize that name. You don’t have a fucking clue from where, but you do. And you hesitate too long, because you can’t shake Marvin Milk’s hand, but you won’t tell him your name. So when you finally speak, you see his face twitch, and you have to get out of here.

“I’m nobody,” you say, and cross your arms. A clear, plain signal that you won’t shake his hand. “And I actually have somewhere to be-“

“Fuckin hell, that’s it.”

Whatever painfully British voice said that came from behind you, and Marvin Milk’s eyes widen.

You haven’t fully turned when something large and explosive hits you, launching your right through your own gravestone and yanking any control over the fire away from your grasp.

You’re burning. The whole fucking world is flame, and there’s no purpose to it. It’s just pain and anger and fire. Trying to find what hurt you—or tried to hurt you, you don’t have a scratch on your body—and hurt it.

You don’t want to hurt it. Your hand has moved to your throat, and you’re gripping yourself with white-knuckles, trying to yank all the fire back into your body. You hate this, and you don’t want to hurt anyone, and people are yelling around you and you’ll never be safe again-

You have to run. Try to get around them, away from them, away from everyone. If Vought, if Homelander, sent them to collect you, you’ll bury yourself so deep in the earth they’ll have to spend a lifetime digging to find you. If they’re the government, they can choke on the fire and smoke—rushing from you like a hurricane, scorching the dirt and grass and night around you—and pass out until you’re far, far away from anyone who will ever know you.

Third rule. The world is burning around you, several voices are shouting Anomaly and it’s making the fire slip further from your grasp, and nobody will be allowed to know you again. Just to be safe, nobody will be allowed past the layer of your appearance and the words that you calculate before they leave your mouth.

People who know you call you weak. And you can’t afford to be weak anymore. There’s so much fucking pain in your body, and you can’t let it control you. You’re moving on pure instinct, trying to just go, fucking run, get away and hide for a million years until this heals itself, but these people are trying to stop you. Through the haze of flame and smoke and pain you can count six of them, but their features are blurred with the rest of the world. They seem to be yelling at each other more than you, scrambling around to try and keep you in the graveyard but away from their bodies. Three of them are running at you, two smaller women and a man, and all of them shouting at the man in particular.

He’s raising something you’re not lucid enough to recognize, but you know it’s aimed at you, and everyone is screaming and shouting and everything hurts-

Something crashes over your body, and the whole world starts to hiss. It’s water—ice-cold fucking water—that’s steaming off your still burning, almost naked body, and it’s brought you down.

But you’re still angry. Everything is sharp and in focus, and now you’re fucking angry. You can see the man clearly before you—Hawaiian shirt, black trench coat, bearded face in a crude smirk that you want to punch—and you’re going to get out of here.

“Pleasure to meet you, Love-“

The man—he’s the British cunt who blasted you through your grave—never gets to finish his greeting. Your punch to his jaw is weak—wrath and a bitter, hollow hole forming in your body from the contact—but your whole body is still alight with flame so it does the trick. You manage push down the guilt that eats you from the twist and sizzle of his flesh, he’ll live, hopefully, and fucking run.

You’re halfway to the graveyard gate when someone tackles you, knocking you to the ground. They’re strong—filled with determination and focus—and you’re burning but they’re not moving off of you. You’re screaming and thrashing, you need to go, this person is touching you and people can’t touch you, can’t hold you, can’t be near you to keep you under them ever again, never fucking again-

“Mon Coeur, you are burning-“

“Unless you got a better plan to keep the human fuckin wildfire down, Frenchie, Kimiko’s gonna be sittin on her until she calms her bloody tits.”

That gets through. They’ll let you go if you calm down.

You don’t know how to calm down. Everything is burning and you can’t calm down, so your hand creeps back to your throat. That’s helped before, yanking yourself down by a brutal anchor, but the fire is out and you can’t pull it back in.

The person above you is suddenly gone, and you think the world might be ending. Everything is burning, but you can’t control your legs or body or brain. Your own screams are hollow in your head, exhaustion settles in your bones, your body aching, and the fire goes dark with your consciousness.

When you wake up—the world a blur you have to blink away—that determination that doesn’t belong to you is still all over your skin, and someone is pinning your arms behind your back. You’re still in the graveyard, kneeling on the grass as dawn cracks the horizon, and there are five people with varying levels of weariness on their faces before you. Watching as you shake yourself awake, their bodies braced as if you might attack them like a feral animal.

You won’t. Right now. You’ll find out who they are, and what they want, then adapt to whatever the situation calls for.

In the breaching daylight, it’s easier to see their faces. Marvin Milk is still there, his jacket slightly scorched—you feel a little bad, it was a nice jacket—and he’s standing next to a shorter, twitchy and wild-eyed man who’s mostly looking behind you. At whoever is holding you. Next to the shorter man is another taller, skinny, anxious looking man, who’s running his hands through his hair and looking around the rest of the group with a nervous expression.

And his side is Blondie. Starlight. Fucking Starlight, in normal people clothing, studying you with a drawn focus and glaring at the man right before you.

William Butcher. You hadn’t recognized him in the haze of your fear and the flame, in the shadows of the night, but that’s him. His face is twisted with a burn, but you’ve seen enough of the news to recognize the fucker.

They’re not with Vought or Homelander. And you still don’t fucking trust it.

You cough, forcing yourself to speak. “What do you want.”

“Look who’s gotten up from her fuckin nap-“

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking over their odd group with narrowed eyes. “I know you idiots, I’ve seen the news. What the fuck do you want from me.”

“That depends,” Marvin Milk crosses his arms, looking you up and down. “You want to tell us who the hell you are, without any lies?”

“Are you going to hit me with a rocket launcher again?”

William Butcher looks like he’s going to sneer something at you, but Starlight cuts him off.

“We won’t. We shouldn’t have,” she shoots Butcher a glare. “In the first place. Please just tell us who you are.”

You chew on your cheek, still not ready to show your cards. “Who do you think I am?”

“We don’t got the faintest idea-“

“Wrong.” You snap. “You clearly have some idea, if you’re bringing weapons and making someone hold me down.” You twist around, and find the owner of the alien determination crossing your skin—a dark-haired, pretty asian woman with an unwavering face—watching you. “You don’t have to restrain me, by the way. I won’t run, and you shouldn’t touch me.”

The woman looks over your shoulder, and Butcher scoffs. “You just tried to bloody kill us, Love, forgive us for making sure you ain’t able to do it again-“

“If I am who you think I am,” you drawl. “Then we both know I could kill you if I wanted to. I’ll talk, but she shouldn’t touch me.”

The wild-eyed man swallows, and speaks with the heaviest French accent you’ve ever heard. “Why may she not touch you-“

“She may,” you shrug best you can with the woman still gripping your arms. “But she shouldn’t. I can feel you,” you turn to the woman once more. “And I can’t help it.”

“The fuck you mean feel her-“

You cut off Milk with a flat look. “I’ll tell you if she lets me go.”

They all exchange looks, Starlight nods to the woman, and when she lets go you’re left alone in your body once more. Empty and tired and alone.

“Awesome,” you rub your wrists, remaining on the ground as the woman rejoins her group. “So? What’s up, cunts?”

They all stare at you, and the tall, nervous one speaks first, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re, um, looking for you? I think?”

“And who am I?”

They all exchange frowns again. It’s starting to get annoying.

“You’re the fuckin Anomaly,” Butcher grunts, looking over you and saying your name. Your full, real name. “Dead three years ago, clearly bloody alive in front of us, escaped Vought captivity a few months back.”

“Wrong.” You mutter. “Wasn’t Vought.”

Starlight frowns. “But-“

“Was Vought funded. But not Vought.”

“Homelander, ain’t it?” Butcher smirks. “Maeve said you got an agenda-“

“I don’t have anything,” you snap. “What do you want.”

They want you. To fight for them. To kill Homelander.

You can’t kill Homelander. He needs to die, but you can’t kill him. The sky is becoming blue, and you’re becoming cold in the sunlight, and you can’t fight or kill Homelander.

But you can help. You tell them—almost—all your powers. Fire. Feelings. Fucking healing. You even display that last one, placing a light hand on Butcher’s face and manage not to flinch at the hatred and unending fury in his body, or the way everyone faces curl into disgust and horror as your own face morphs and contorts into burn scars, healing within the same second.

You flinch back from Butcher, and they exchange another set of fucking looks before offering you something. You don’t have to fight Homelander, but that healing thing will be useful, and they don’t want to just leave you for Homelander to find. You can go with them—provided you tell them what happened to you and work with them—and you don’t have to decay into a hollow vessel of pain and fire in the graveyard.

You look at your grave, and it's only ruins. Someone might repair it, but you think it might just stay like that. And you don’t want to stick around to find out. There’s birds singing in the trees, and the sounds of life waking with the day, and you won��t fail yourself. You won’t go back, but you want to be the last person who is reduced to a broken grave by Homelander’s hands.

It’s not like you have anything else to waste what might be immortality on.

So you dig your nails into your skin, and agree to their terms. You leave the graveyard with the Boys—that’s a stupid fucking name for a team, but you don’t tell them that—and make a fourth rule. The first three can be inherent. Don’t touch anyone, never rest, and never let anyone know you are all for survival. They’ll ring in the back of your head without reminder, because they’ll be instinct. Stay free, keep breathing, don’t stop moving or lose control. You don’t have to be alive, but you need to survive. At least until you’ve played your part, you need to keep going.

And that’s the fourth rule. Whatever it takes. You’ll never be alive again, so you need to do whatever it takes. You’ll be whatever you need to be, and Homelander will die. Homelander has to fucking die, and then you can go back to wasting away in the lonely, hollow cold.

But for now, whatever it fucking takes.

End Note: Very silly of me to publish the prologue over halfway through the series.

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

76 notes · View notes

film-in-my-soul · 1 year ago

Note

Hey!! For the a ship, a trope, a sentence ask game: How about Icemav - accidental secret realtionship with "you guys walked in on us in the locker room, more than once, how did you not know?"

Maverick is nervous. He knows, realistically, that he shouldn't be. DADT had been repealed, Slider did a whole coming out thing for his niece the year before, hell, Maverick's seen Wolf with his hands down Holly's pants. But still, this is different. This clarifies that what he's got with Ice is here to stay, not a relative (well-loved as she is) or a hook-up when it's easy.

A hand slots into Maverick's, a body saddling up next to his in the bar booth. The hand is large, familiar, and heavier with the weight of the ring he'd slipped down Ice's fourth finger without complaint. It slides away just as quickly, old habits worn into the other man, but Maverick doesn't complain, not when Ice puts that same hand on Maverick's thigh.

"Could feel your leg shaking all the way from the door."

Maverick scoffs. "Sure you could."

Ice knocks their shoulders together and doesn't leave space between them when he settles again. It makes Maverick smile, opening his mouth to tease again when Slider's loud and unmistakable voice draws his attention.

"Alright, break it up, love birds," he slides into the space across from them, Hollywood hot on his heels.

"Where's Wolf?"

Slider rolls his eyes, and Hollywood winces.

"Might have accidentally told him the wrong day. He and Cindy took the kids to dinner."

Maverick kicks the other man under the table and doesn't look sorry when Hollywood yelps. All his previous nerves slip, and he pushes menus towards the new arrivals, waiting until their food's put in and they have drinks to try and broach why he and Ice have gathered them.

When he can't manage, picking at the corner of his bottle, Slider sighs.

"Alright, you two gonna tell us what this is all about? Cause if I gotta learn Maverick knocked up some Admiral's daughter, I'm making you pay my part of the bill."

And somehow, Slider's ability to shit talk right through a thick atmosphere has Maverick's tongue loosening.

"Ice and I are gettin' hitched." He doesn't even need to drag Ice's hand out with the simple silver engagement band, the man at his side doing it himself with a raised brow like he's daring either of the other men to say something about it.

They don't, though arguably it's worse than if they had. Hollywood spits out the beer he'd been sipping, and Slider's jaw drops damn near to the table.

"You-"

"I'm sorry, what-"

"When the hell did all this happen?" Slider settles on, waving a hand between Maverick and Ice. It makes Maverick's brows furrow, but Ice drops his arm over his shoulder, too, so what minor irritation had been forcing that expression smooths out, leaving only blatant confusion.

"What the hell do you mean?" There's a bit to Maverick's tone.

"Hey," Holly says, finally done choking, "it's not that we're not happy for you guys, hell yeah, marriage and all that, but... just... isn't it a bit fast?"

It's Maverick's turn for his mouth to slacken. He'd say they're fucking with them, but honestly, Hollywood's a shit liar, and Slider would have made some crack about them being married already.

"Are you both saying you didn't know?" Ice asks, drawing Maverick's eyes to him. He's unsurprised to see an equal amount of surprise pinching Ice's lips into a downturned line.

"I mean... we haven't seen you both in a while." Slider hedges, shrugging, and Maveirk's had just about enough. He throws up his hands.

"We've been together since '92!" comes his exclamation, "You guys walked in on us in the locker room more than once. How did you not know?"

Slider is the one who chokes this time, and Hollywood, flush high on his cheeks, probably remembering something he ought to have forgotten grimaces.

"Whoops?"

Maverick feels even less bad slamming the toe of his boots into the other man's calf a second time.

What a bunch of idiots.

#icemav #icemav ficlet #nano ficlet #top gun ficlet

156 notes · View notes

callsign-joyride · 1 year ago

Note

Bradley Bradshaw & number two! 🩷

G.U.Y. | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Bradley teaches you a lesson after his class reunion.

Content warnings: SMUT (18+), rough sex, unprotected p in v, spanking (once), spitting, ass play, squirting, creampie, cum eating, overstimulation (I blacked out while writing this lmao it's filthy)

Prompt: "Will you stop talking or do I have to make you shut up?"

This was written for my Summer of Smut writing event. Feel free to send in requests!

Bradley never went to his class reunions. Sure, he had been invited. He wasn’t popular, but he knew everyone and everyone knew him. He tried to put his past behind him after graduation, especially after joining the Navy. He didn’t hate going to school by any means, but Carole was sick for most of the time that he was in high school, so he had to skip out on most of the extracurricular activities.

He tried to hide the invitation for the twenty-year reunion under a stack of mail, but you found it when you were looking for the water bill.

“What’s this?” You asked as you handed it to him. He was watching an old baseball game in the living room.

“An invitation for a class reunion. I’m not going. I never go to those things, anyway.”

“I think you should go. It’ll be close to Christmas and we could visit your parents at the cemetery.”

Bradley put the piece of cardstock down and stood up to put his hands on your hips.

“You would go to Virginia with me? In the dead of winter?”

“Yeah… I mean, it’s where you’re from. You’ve been to Arizona with me tons of times. Maybe you’ll have more fun if I’m there.”

You ended up being right, for the most part. Phoenix was willing to keep an eye on the home that you and Bradley shared while you were out of town. You planned the trip so that you’d be back in Fightertown just before Christmas, so you’d be able to spend the holidays with the Dagger Squad. You landed in Virginia around dinner time the night before the reunion and dropped your bags off at the hotel before going out to eat. He wanted to go to an Italian place that was Carol’s favorite, and you were excited as the host seated you and handed you the menus.

“What was your mom’s favorite wine?” You asked as you looked at their selection of wines.

“I don’t know… Mom didn’t really drink that much, but she always ordered the primitivo when we went here.”

“Okay, I’ll order it, then. And we’re here for a few days so I might order a bottle if I like it.”

“You really don’t have to, but I can buy the bottle if you like it.”

Bradley ended up buying you the bottle of wine. You were both exhausted when you got back to the hotel, so you put the bottle in the fridge and started getting ready for bed. Everything about the night was normal, with you easily falling into your routines even though you weren’t at home. Bradley ordered breakfast to the room after you woke up and you both started getting ready.

“One of my buddies texted me last night, said his wife thought she saw me at that restaurant. D’you wanna get lunch with them?” He asked. You thought about it for a moment before finishing applying your lip gloss.

“I mean, I don’t see why not. You’re not in town very often.”

“I’ll let him know.”

The lunch went well, and it was nearing time to head out for the reunion. It was going to be hosted in the gymnasium of the high school with dinner and dessert provided. Soft music played when you walked in with Bradley, you in a simple green dress, and Bradley in a white Henley and jeans. His dog tags were on the outside of his shirt this time, because he really hadn’t seen most of his classmates since graduation.

“Great,” he grumbled as the two of you were finally able to sit down.

“What is it?” You asked.

He picked up the place card that was across from you and did a double take of it. Of course his ex was going to be there, she was one of the “popular” girls. And of course someone put them at the same table. As he explained the situation, you gently took the place card out of his hands and walked over to a nearby table. You were going to swap out the place cards, but he stopped you before you could get the chance.

“Maybe there was a reason for it? I don’t think she’ll try anything, anyways.”

“Okay.”

Bradley talked to a few people who approached the two of you for a few minutes before you got up to go to the bathroom. When you came back, Bradley’s ex-girlfriend, Cassandra, was sitting in her seat across from Bradley and it looked like she was trying to flirt with him. He was being quieter than usual until you got to the table and put your arm around his shoulders and said hi to Cassandra.

“Oh! Are you his new girlfriend?” She excitedly asked.

“Well, we’ve been together for almost three years. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Bradley, I thought you were single!”

“I’m not, so…” Bradley shrugged his shoulders and announced that he was getting up to get a drink. You asked him to get you water and something to snack on while he was over there, and he said yes.

When he left, you were having small talk with Cassandra. She asked you where you were from, what you did for work, other things like that. When he came back, you looked like you were getting angry and you sounded like it, too.

“That’s interesting. Bradley never wanted to get married or have kids when he was with me. I always thought that it was because of what losing both of his parents did to him.”

“Or maybe it was just you that he didn’t want to marry or have kids with… Just a thought.”

You didn’t even realize that Bradley had come back until he put your water and snacks in front of you. He put his hand on your shoulder as he sat down with his beer.

“Hey, I think maybe you should calm down a little bit,” he said. You glanced at him and took a sip of your water before looking back over at Cassandra.

“I mean, look at you. You were the popular girl with mom and dad’s money to let you do whatever you wanted. I’ll tell you right now, I wouldn’t be with Bradley if he didn’t want to have kids. He’s a nice guy, too, so I think it’s just you. From what I’ve heard, you were quite the mean girl. It’s no wonder that you’re still single.”

“Alright, you’re taking this a little too far. Cassandra, I’m sorry for what was just said. I think we’re gonna head out. I’ll see you around,” Bradley said. He grabbed your bag and helped you stand before you walked out of the building.

The drive back to the hotel was silent except for the radio softly playing. Bradley unlocked the room for you before closing the door and locking it.

“Take off your dress and get on the bed,” he said as he kicked his shoes off.

“I hope you know that I’m not sorry for what I said to that bitch earlier.”

Bradley sighed and walked over to you. He rolled you over so that you were on all fours and you could feel his hardened cock press up against you.

“Will you stop talking or do I have to make you shut up?” He asked as he moved your panties to the side.

He rubbed your pussy and you let out a small scream as he slammed his cock inside of you. With his arms around your waist, he moved in and out of you at a grueling pace. He pulled out almost all the way and smacked your ass before slamming into you, eliciting a moan from you.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” He rasped into your ear. You could only moan in response as he continued to pound into you. You groaned as you felt a warm droplet of spit and let out a sharp cry as Bradley used that as lubricant to slowly insert his thumb in your ass.

“You want me to stop?” He asked.

“Bradley, fuck - don’t stop! Feels s’good,” you said.

His thrusts got impossibly faster and he used his other hand to rub your clit as he brought you closer to the edge. You came right as you felt Bradley’s cock twitch inside of you, gushing all over him and the bed. With his cum leaking out of you, Bradley rolled you over and put a pillow under your back before starting to go down on you. You let out a cry from the burn of his mustache on your sore clit and he moved up to lay his head on your chest. He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and looked up at you before kissing you.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go and get something to eat,” he said as he carried you to the bathroom. Before the two of you left to get tacos, Bradley called room service to get a clean set of sheets.

“You should do that more often. I like it rough,” you said as you and Bradley got to the lobby of the hotel.

“You gotta stop doing that. We’re in public.”

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha @genius2050 @halstead-severide-fan @withakindheartx

Taglist form (Google form, email is not asked)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #top gun maverick #rooster #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagines #x reader #reader insert #top gun #bradley bradshaw smut #callsign joyride's summer of smut

85 notes · View notes

issacballsac · 3 months ago

Text

Never One Without Two!

Octavian

Male Reader

Gleaming the streets with your self deprecating nature shining through your chosen circle. Where he went so did you and vice versa.

Today had happened to be one of the few days the both of you were not plaguing the lives of everyone around you. A simple hangout day.

Deviating from typical augur duties the frail boy sat with you in your bedroom watching various sitcoms. Though there wasn’t much watching on your part as his avid need to chime in with his verbal opinions on the characters’ decisions made it impossible to hear anything else much less concentrate.

Several sighs later and the two of you switched to scrolling aimlessly on TikTok in search of something, anything entertaining to watch.

“…Packing my tumblr to go on a…hot girl walk?”

“Y’know this is the only time I actually wanna hear your thoughts on this.”

“I don’t have any thoughts to share with the likes of you. But, honestly is all of that really necessary?”

“EXACTLY.”

Only stopping with criticism to stalk the rest of their page to see what else they had to offer, before you sprung up an offer of your own.

“We should play Murder Mystery.”

“Can’t, I’m still banned, it ends tomorrow though.”

“Damn why can’t you not be banned for a day that I actually wanna play a game.”

“It’s not like I was in the wrong, the moderation is just stupid.”

You couldn’t even escape Octavian’s rash decisions ruining your plans in the digital world much less the real world. So with dwindling activities to participate in your brain for the first time in a while went into overdrive.

“Alright get up, we’re going out.”

“Why would I go out with you?”

“You wish you could get with me. But, I’m talking about actually going out, like outside.”

“Where?”

“If I tell you it won’t be as exciting. Now stop asking me questions.”

Grasping his dominant hand the both of you flew out the door. With your eyes dead set on the mysterious hangout location.

“A cafe? Really?”

“It’s a casual thing, consider it a date.”

“Why would I want to go on a date with you?”

“I love you too man. Anyway we seat ourselves here, so, sit down.”

Reluctantly your date to be sat down and shut up for a graceful minute, overlooking the menu. Keeping a longing stare above the menu.

“Y’know I’ve never realised how freaky your pearly blues are. They’re really piercing through my soul.”

“Quiet.”

“Look I love ‘em on you but it’s kinda crazy. Deadass.”

A silent scoff left his breath. Just as a waiter picked up on your situation and swung by.

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you boys?”

“Hello, I’ll have a cup of mint tea and—maybe a croissant or lemon cake?”

“I highly recommend the cakes here they’re absolutely amazing.”

“So he’ll have that lemon cake, and I’ll just have a coffee, cappuccino.”

“Good choices I’ll get that out in for you guys!”

“Thanks!”

With a short pastime the beverages and cake is bought out. Granted with a simple ‘enjoy’ the waiter swayed from your table.

“Everything looks so good!”

Clasping your hands together paired with closed eyes in thanks. Your short thanks ended abruptly as your eyes opened to see a spoonful of your cake missing.

“What the fuck.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ’hm’ me you big back bitch. Order your own cake.”

“There is enough for the both of us, why do you think she gave us two spoons? Sometimes your intellect escapes you I swear.”

“No you ass. She gave ME two spoons. One for my cake and one for any sugar to put in my tea.”

“You don’t put sugar in your tea. So the spoon is for me.”

“Yeah? Well she wouldn’t know that. So the spoon is mine. If you disagree any further I will drop your skinny ass right here and now.”

“Crude and intimate. Just hurry and eat your food, so I can leave I have work to do.”

His harsh words would’ve come across in a more offensive way if he truly wanted to leave hastily. So you sat in a comforting silence enjoying your food, occasionally giving him some of your cake.

Idk how to end short stories ngl

#fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #x masc reader #octavian x reader #octavian pjo #Octavian pjo x male reader #Octavian x male reader

18 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 2 years ago

Note

hi rei !!! i absolutely loved reading Charming !!! seokjin and OC's camaraderie was so cute and delightful, made me squeal and giggle and blush the enture time (>//<) however, i couldn't help but wonder....how did taehyung and OC meet? what ensued that one night ? 👀

Oh hey!! Love this prompt, here's what happened.

Pairing: Taehyung x F! reader

Word count: 1.8k

From the Charming AU.

The most beautiful man in the room at this wedding isn't the groom, or the best man, but the man quietly sitting at a table close to the back. You noticed him as soon as you walked in.

You pass by each gorgeously decorated table, pastel peonies arranged tastefully in threes and fives in mason jars, petal confetti strewn artfully, and realise your search for your allocated seat is bringing you closer to the beautiful man.

When you're close enough to see the calligraphy showing that you and the beautiful man are indeed at the same table, you glance nervously at him to see he's looking back at you.

He stands politely when it's apparent you're about to join him.

'Kim Taehyung,' he says. His voice is a loose low drawl that warms your ears like smoke.

You tell him your name, find the place card with your name on it, across the round table from him.

Taehyung smiles and lifts the place card next to his, exchanges it with yours and then beckons you over to sit next to him.

'I won't tell if you won't,' he confides.

'It's our secret,' you agree.

'I have another one,' Taehyung says, conspiratorial.

He lifts a tiny minibar bottle out of the inner pocket of his dinner jacket, unscrews it, and offers it to you.

You take a sip, and the liquor, warmed by the proximity to his body, sears a path down your throat. You swallow, eyes watering.

Taehyung takes his own sip.

‘I thought about paying someone from my office to come with me to this wedding,’ he says.

You’re quiet a moment, then, drawn by the simple honesty in his tone, make your own confession.

‘I almost didn’t come because I didn’t want to come alone,’ you say.

‘My last girlfriend got married a month ago,’ Taehyung says. He smiles at you.

‘You’re very handsome,’ you remark. You smile back. ‘Since we’re trading truths.’

He laughs softly. 'You're very pretty too. I like your dress.'

'Thank you.' You take another sip. ‘The menu looks good.’

Taehyung says, ‘Yeah.’

More people join your table, eventually, but in truth, you're too wrapped up in the man next to you to pay them much attention.

Taehyung swipes a bite of your starter, smirks at you.

'Trying to provoke me?' you ask.

His eyes drop to your lips. 'Yeah.'

He leans back in his seat. 'Also, the food isn’t as good as I thought it would be. Want to go grab dinner?’

It isn’t like you to blow off any of your responsibilities, but you’re a Nam, and your family’s always been unpredictable.

So you turn to Taehyung, your new friend, the man who’s looking at you like he can’t take his eyes off you, and you say, ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

Kim Taehyung turns to you once you’re seated in the taxi he hailed off the street a block from the hotel.

You’d had to walk past the notorious chaebol Min twins on your way out, and Min Yoongi had raised a brow at you and Taehyung that you’d both ignored.

‘Where should we go?’ Taehyung asks. His profile is stunning in the half light, the reds and golds from the traffic light you’ve stopped at highlighting his straight nose, his firm jaw.

Outside, a light rain is pattering against the windows of the cab, but inside, you’re warm with anticipation.

Sneaking away from the society wedding of the season with the most beautiful man in the room is making you giddy.

The way he looks at you isn’t helping.

Taehyung smiles at you, as excited as you are.

‘Want to get chicken?’

The next thing you know, you’re elbow to elbow with him at a fried chicken joint, sharing an order and a beer.

Taehyung nudges you, sauce in the corner of his mouth.

‘What?’ he asks.

You lean over and lick it off him.

Taehyung turns, just as quick, and kisses you full on the lips.

He tastes like chicken and beer, and he kisses so well he makes you forget you’re sitting on wipe-clean plastic in a fluorescent lighted joint with last year’s pop music playing in the background.

Taehyung pulls away, and there’s a cockiness to his smirk that you both love and hate.

You hate cocky men, but he wears it so well you can’t find it in yourself to care.

‘I’m staying at the Landmark, down the road. Want to come over?’

***

Taehyung’s shoulders are so broad you can barely see around them.

He stays perfectly still, watching you in the mirrors of the elevator.

Of course he’s staying in the penthouse suite, the man’s whole attitude screams chaebol, and you would know.

In your heels you can brush your lips against his jaw, especially when he leans down.

He cups your elbow with his big hand, helping you reach.

He reaches into his pocket, and for a moment, you have the crazy idea that he’s going to pay you.

Instead, he hands you a keycard.

‘This activates the lift. You’re free to leave whenever,’ he tells you.

He smirks. ‘You’re also free to slap me anytime if you don’t like what I’m doing. I won’t mind.’

You reach out, cup his cheek. You can feel the roughness of his stubble even though there’s barely anything to see.

‘Here?’ you ask, hand still on his cheek.

He leans his face into your hand. His eyes are serious.

‘My name is Kim Taehyung, I’m part of the Kim family - my grandfather is Kim Seokwoo.’

He nods at the jolt of recognition in your eyes.

‘I’m not telling you this to get into your panties. I just want you to know you’re safe with me. I know your brother.’

You consider this.

‘Did you know who I was when I sat down next to you?’

‘Apart from the prettiest girl in the room?’ he asks, smiling charmingly at you. ‘I didn’t realise until you introduced yourself. Haven’t you been abroad?’

‘I got back last year,' you tell him.

The elevator doors open to a vast penthouse suite, a wall of floor to ceiling windows, the entire city lit up below.

Taehyung takes it in like it’s his due, like he was born to own the world.

He walks over to the window. He hasn't turned any lights on, but he doesn't need to, not when he's got an entire city to light the room.

He smiles at you. 'Beautiful, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' you agree. 'I missed it when I was away.'

Taehyung leans down, and your lips meet. His kiss is firm, blatant in his intentions. He holds your hip with one hand, the other resting in the small of your back.

'Do you think they've cut the wedding cake yet?' you wonder, between kisses.

Taehyung laughs. 'I honestly couldn't care less.'

He's walked you backwards, your back against the cool glass of the window, his hips pressing tight to yours, so close you can feel the weight of his hardness with every move of his hips.

You undress each other, slow, the scritching of your zip loud in the quiet of the room. You press kisses to his chest in between buttons, until he's shirtless in front of you.

He unbuckles his belt, lets it furl on the floor, and you help him with his trousers. Your hand brushes over the bulge in his boxer briefs, and he lets you feel, patient as you run your fingers over the rigid line of him. When you cup him, he hisses but doesn't move, letting out a shuddering breath.

He hooks a finger in between your breasts, and you have no idea how he knew your bra fastened in the front but he unclasps it easily. He helps you slip the straps down over your arms, hooks a finger over the band of your panties.

'Let me?' he asks.

He drops to his knees in front of you, tugs your panties down, helps you step out of them.

You'd be embarrassed about how wet you are if he wasn't so vocal in his appreciation of you. He pushes your thighs apart, kissing up your thigh, open mouthed, tongue flicking against your skin.

He flicks his eyes up at you just as his lips meet your cunt.

'Fu-- uh---' you gasp.

Taehyung licks up between your legs, thumbs spreading you apart so he can flick his tongue against your clit.

You bite your own fist to keep from screaming as the tip of his tongue works your clit.

'F'kin sweet,' Taehyung mumbles, muffled against your cunt.

He laps at your arousal, hands tight on your upper thighs. 'Let me hear you,' he says.

'Fuck,' you moan, and he laughs, the vibration of his voice against you making your knees threaten to buckle.

He keeps his steady assault on your clit, the pressure of his tongue making the pleasure build, until you're gasping his name with every lap of his tongue.

'Easy,' he murmurs. 'Easy, baby.'

He seems to know exactly what you need, and he's determined to drag you over the edge.

'Taehyung,' you wail, and he hums against your cunt.

'Good girl, fuck, good girl,' he murmurs, and then you're coming, eyes squeezed shut, the pleasure making your thighs shake.

'Fuck, get inside me,' you plead.

'Yeah,' Taehyung grunts. He turns you around, there's the rip of a condom wrapper, then he's entering you, hand on your back adjusting you to him.

He slides in, slow, laying kisses on your back to ease the stretch as he fills you.

'Ngh.'

'Yeah,' he says. You can see his reflection in the glass, head back, the muscles of his throat working as he starts to move.

'You're a good girl, aren't you? Taking me so well,' he praises you, hands tight on your hips.

You're transfixed by how stunning he looks as he fucks into you, eyes dark, lips set in a straight line.

His dick hits you perfectly every time, slotting inside you like he belongs there, filling you up.

'Watch your face, baby,' he warns, but his hand's already there, cupping the side of your face to protect you as he slams his hips against your ass, pushing you into the glass.

He grinds against your ass, breath shuddering in your ear as his cock jerks inside you.

He pulls out with a gasp, ties off the condom, tosses it and pulls you back into his arms like even that thirty seconds without you was too much.

He buries his face in your neck, arms tight around you.

'Shit,' you tease. 'That was some wedding, huh?'

He laughs. 'The best one I've been to lately.'

©hamsterclaw 2023

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #gemini au

25 notes · View notes

boreal-sea · 2 years ago

Note

This is really random but how do you make that gender dysphoria-euphoria graph on excel? As a fellow grad student, I’m trying to get better at data visualization, and that is so pretty. I’m not really a big excel girlie (mostly use stata) but I’ve never seen that type of graph before so I wouldn’t know how to even look it up.

Haha sure!! So it's not too hard to make but it's kinda involved, and I'm sure there's easier ways to do it in python (which I'm supposed to be teaching myself) but I only know Excel so here we go:

Let's go from this first graph to the second graph:

The first thing you want to do is set up a simple table like the one on the left in the image below. You don't have to separate everything out into different columns, I just did that because I was doing this fast and it's way clearer for me to keep track of what I'm doing.

The second thing you wanna do is understand how graphs in Excel work: You have to define an X axis and a Y axis. For this graph style, called a CalTech plot, we only actually want to display data across the X axis, but we still need to define it on the Y axis so Excel understands we're trying to make a graph.

So the -10 to 10 is going to be our X axis data. The 1's in the other columns just give Y a value so we can get it on the graph. That's the basic set up.

So, add a scatter plot however you like, and then right click to edit the data. Add each data type into the plot as a separate Series. Set the X to be the -10 to 10, and the Y values to be the corresponding data column.

Now here's where the details come in. Initially, your graph will probably look like this:

That's terrible. There's no legend, the dots are tiny, there's a Y axis right in the middle and grid-lines etc... So let's fix it!

Double-click on the Y axis. If the dots are too high or too low you can adjust the Min and Max values on the menu that'll pop up on the right. I set my Min to -1 and my Max to 2. Once you're done, click on the Y axis and literally just hit Delete. It'll go away.

Same with the grid-lines: click 'em and delete 'em. You can also remove all these items through the [+] menu that shows up when you click on the graph OR on the top menu under Chart Design.

After that, we need to add the Legend and change the size of the dots.. You can add the legend and then change its position using the [+] menu or through the Chart Design menu. I have it displayed on the Bottom.

Once you've got that squared away, if you don't have the right hand menu up you need to double-click anywhere in the chart area get the it to show up. It should say "Format Chart Area". Single-click on one of your data points, and it changes to say "Format Data Series":

Click on the paint bucket, then click on Marker, then click on the > to make the Marker Options menu drop down and then you can finally change the size of the markers. I picked 10 because it's nice and visible. Do that for all your markers! Finally, you can click on the Legend itself and go to font size to increase it and make it more visible.

And now, the last step. The colored boxes? They're literally just boxes. Insert > Illustrations > Shapes, and click on the rectangle. Click on Shape Format on the main menu to adjust the Shape Fill under More Fill Colors, and set the Transparency to 50%. Copy-paste as many boxes as you want!

Done!

If you wanna play around, you can change the "level" of the dots which can be helpful for data sets with overlapping numbers:

See how I changed the Y values to 1, 2, 3 and 4 in my table? I also had to change my Y-axis values to Min: -1 and Max: 5, but you can easily use the [+] menu to bring back the Y axis any time you need it, then delete it again.

#tutorial #sort of

13 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 2 years ago

Text

Agent Y/L/N P2

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader (Spy)

Rating Sweet

Concept Spies

"So... what exactly are you going to Russia to do?" I asked leaning on my bedroom door watching her as she unpacked my bag completely and was now repacking it slightly differently mixing some of her own items into my bag and some of mine into her's clearly giving the bags the illusion of a couple having packed them together and swapped items over for the sake of space and such.

"Classified" she snapped refolding my shirts differently

"What was wrong with how I packed them?" I asked her

"Firstly, If you think we'll get through this with one bag check you're an idiot we'll be stopped and searched at the airport on arrival guaranteed, I can get us though departures on my clearance but we'll be searched when we arrive. And when we make it to the hotel porters will take them and search through them. Trust me any mistake will be scrutinized" she explained

"You do realize I'm a chess player right? Not some kinda international spy? There not going to give a shit"

"You're an American. That's enough" she says "They search the bags and find things that don't make sense we have a problem, trust me." she says "secondly, this is a cotton dress shirt, you fold it like that it'll wrinkle. And then you either need to pack an iron or rent one from the hotel. You got sixty nine dollars a week for an iron?" she asks

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"Fair enough."

"Do you smoke?" she asks

"No, you?"

"No, Drink?"

"Socially. You?"

"When needed" she says

"What are you going to do while I'm playing chess anyway?"

"Classified"

"If I'm supposed to be your boyfriend won't it be suspicious if I don't know where you're going everyday?"

"Sightseeing" she says "That's all you need to say,"

"Fine, Ohh uhh don't pack the books too deep I'll read them on the plane" "I though I'd put the travel board on the top so you could practice?"

"Both. I read and practice"

"Fair enough" she nods

"What's your name anyway?" I asked "let me guess classified?"

"Classified." she snapped

"Well what am I supposed to do? Call you agent y/l/n? Cause I think that'll raise some suspicion."

"The passport and identification I'm taking with me says Emily Smith"

"Emily smith?"

"Yes."

"Did your agents pick too random names out of a hat?"

"You're meant to have names that don't draw attention to yourself, boring, simple, forgettable."

"Fine. But if were meant to be a couple you should have a pet name" "Smart thinking, what did you have in mind?"

"Babe?"

"Absolutely not."

"Darling?"

"Fine" she sighed

"Alright, Just do whatever it is you're going to do and stay out of my business" I told her.

I woke to the loud aggressive ringing from my alarm on the bedside table, I groaned, turning over to shut the damn thing off, rubbing my eyes and staring up at the ceiling waiting for my eyes to clear a little, I perked up a little as I smelt something strange, Burning. Oh fuck! I quickly jumped out of bed, slipping my kimono on our of habit and opening the door to the main apartment but I calmed down immediately as I saw the CIA girl in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Oh fuck-" I sighed

"What?"

"I forgot you were here. I thought my fucking apartment was on fire"

"No, just breakfast" She says setting a coffee down on the table for me

"Thanks, You didn't have to you know."

"Airport food and coffee is some of the most disgusting in the world, I'd rather lick the floor its cleaner" she explained

"Fair enough, What's on the menu then?"

"Pancakes."

"Nice" I smiled sipping my coffee and actually noticing her, as she stood in little white heels, black seamed stockings, a black petticoat under a white textured off the shoulder dress with a large black belt around her waist, her hair pinned up in some tight curls make up as pristine as I had ever seen a girl.

"I've already set all the bags by the door, and called the taxi company to pick us up in an hour drop of at the airport, We'll have exactly thirty two minutes until initial boarding luckily I've already got it set for us to skip primary check in and security checks and access to the silver lounge. We'll be first to board given our clearance and we can get settled until we arrive in moscow. I've been notified they'll be a car waiting to take us to the hotel" she explained before delivering a plate of pancakes to the table "Shouldn't be so hard I hope Mr watts."

"Hu. Maybe I should take one of you guys with me on all my trips" I joked sitting down to have some pancakes "and Just Benny is fine."

"Alright, Benny." she smiled bringing her own coffee,

"What is the uhh the plot I guess?"

"Plot?" she asks

"You're meant to be my girlfriend. What if people ask questions"

"Good point. We may get questions on the arrival end or over the two weeks. Well what do you suggest?"

"Uhhh... How about, we met in a bar. Been dating for about a year and you're just moved into me."

"I do not feel I'm a bar girl."

"Don't you?"

"I don't feel thats an emily smith concept"

"How about, we met... In the supermarket?"

"Buying what?"

"What does that matter?"

"They may ask"

"Just grocery shopping, just meet in the line one day?"

"Some day they only had one check out open"

"Yeah and we complained to each other"

"A fine start to a budding romance" she laughed

"I've had worse" I laughed

"Alright, Come on we don't want to be late" she says finishing her coffee, I finished my breakfast and my own coffee quickly going and getting dressed given everything was already arranged, she got her handbag and her jacket on as I shut up the apartment given I'd be gone for two weeks, making sure everything is as it should be making sure to lock the place up tight as she took our bags to the taxi. I don't know why but I suddenly felt kinda nervous about all this, I mean. If they found out I helped get her into the country and do whatever it is she's doing... What the hell would they do to me? I didn't want to imagine. I forced it away maybe if I just pretend I have no idea. I went up and got into the taxi with her the two of us sat silently until we arrived at the airport she climbed out first and immediately some men came to unpack the taxi taking our things.

"I hope you know what your doing" I told her

"I've done this twenty nine times. I think I'm good." she says "Not a word now, Until I tell you so. I'm emily until I tell you otherwise"

"Understood" I nodded

She offered her hand so I took it and headed into the airport with her.

15 notes · View notes

disneyanddisneyships · 2 years ago

Text

@gyubby99 this has nothing to do with anything. I saw a quote and it reminded me of alaponi so...

Alastor x OC

I don't even know where where wanted to go with this but here's some Alaponi fluff.

Alastor wanted to do something for Aponi. Something romantic that he usually wouldn't do, especially down in hell.

That's when Husk gave him the idea to take her out to a nice dinner. Not like the usual places. An actual restaurant where people ate.

"A restaurant? But Husker, there aren't any without.... other things being performed," Alastor stated, a bit uncomfortable at the thought of sexual activities.

Husk shrugged. "Then I guess youre outta ideas," He stated, plain and simple before walking away to open the fridge.

"Oh are ya tryin ta do somethin nice for Aponi?" Angel asked as he walked down the stairs, getting ready to head to work.

"Indeed I am, Angel. Husker gave me the idea of dinner, but I'd rather not uh.... go to any of the ones... here...." Alastor cleared his throat.

"Oh. Well I know a nice restaurant on the edge'a hell. Val owns it, but it's not a strip club. He's a business man. He knows people down here may just wanna get somethin ta eat. I could kd give ya the address before I leave," Angel explained.

"That would be wonderful, my friend!" Alastor exclaimed, hus smile becoming more genuine.

An hour passed.

"Al, where are we going?" Aponi chuckled as Alastor lead her into a restaurant, his hands over her eyes.

"Alright darling, open your eyes," he stated as he removed his hands.

Aponi's eyes fluttered open. Her mouth dropped. A restaurant down here? Without any strippers? That must've been one in a million.

"Al..... it's... a normal restaurant. That's amazing! but why are we here?" Aponi asked as she turned to her boyfriend.

"I wanted to take you to a nice place, darling! And this was the best option for the best woman," Alastor smirked.

"Awwwwwwe! Thank you, darling!" Aponi exclaimed.

The two were seated and they looked at their menus.

Aponi placed her had gently on the table to fidgit with with table cloth as she looked through her menu.

Alastor's hand went to hers and held it.

As the night went on, their dinner was eaten and they began to just talk to one another.

Alastor doesn't know what he said, but Aponi laughed, and he smiled softly at it.

She's laughing.... how can she sit here and laugh, and look so beautiful? He thought to himself as she snorted. He loved when she did that.

Half an hour later, the couple walked through hell, slowly making their way back to the hotel.

Aponi clinged onto Alastor's arm and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked through the chaos of hell.

"Tonight was amazing," Aponi muttered as she and Alastor walked.

"It truly was, my dear," Alastor answered.

"We should do it more often," Aponi stated.

"Only once were married my dear," Alastor replied before ge stopped walking.

"Al?" Aponi asked as she looked at him.

Alastor took a deep breath before kneeling. "Marry me, darling," Alastor stated.

"W-what?" Aponi stuttered.

"Darling, I know we're not perfect... I know I'm not perfect.... but darling, I love you. I'm obsessed with you. I'd die for you, kill for you. Either way, it would be bliss because it's you..... Marry me," Alastor spoke as he opened a box with a ring inside.

Aponi's mouth was open, and tears were in her eyes before her smile broke out. "Yes.... Yes!" She exclaimed before hugging him.

15 notes · View notes

aldbooks · 2 years ago

Text

The Temporary Roommate - T - Ch 2

7,616 words

Part 2 of ACOTAR Secret Santa gift for @poisonivy206

—-

Once they arrived at the house, Mor left Emerie to wander the garden she'd shown an interest in while she went inside to find the elderly couple, Bronwyn and Able, who looked after the estate while she was gone.

"My lady!" Bronwyn hurriedly dusted flour coated hands on her apron and dropped a curtsy while Able leapt up from the table he'd been sitting at, peeling vegetables to bow. "You're early. We did not expect you until tomorrow."

"Yes," Mor said, giving them an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if I've disrupted your routine but, there's been a change of plans... I brought a guest."

Both faeries perked up at the news. "A guest? Oh, goodness. I'd only just begun preparing your room, my lady. I haven't opened any of the other rooms. It will take at least a day to prepare, the other rooms have been closed up for so long, they're frightfully dusty."

That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. She'd meant to send a note ahead of her arrival to warn the housekeeper but had been preoccupied with rushing the remainder of her preparations for the visit. With magic, it was the work of a few minutes to clean out a room and stock it with fresh linens but Bronwyn prided herself on anticipating her mistress' needs. Mor had thrown her carefully ordered household into a bit of chaos.

"Which room would you like to put...?"

"Emerie," she provided.

"Lady Emerie." Mor iddn't bother to correct her. Emerie could do decide if she was comfortable being addressed as such. "Which room shall I put her in?"

"Oh it doesn't matter," she waved a hand. "Whichever is easiest for you. I just wanted to give you a heads up for dinner."

The housekeeper's eyes widened as she glanced around at the ingredients she'd begun preparing and Mor could see her calculating if she'd have enough. She gave her husband a look and he nodded. "I'll gather some more potatoes," he said before moving towards the door.

"I was only preparing a simple stew," Bronwyn fretted, her eyes darting towards the larder which would likely not have been stocked with much meat yet until Able went hunting tomorrow.

"It's no bother, Bronwyn. I don't mind and I don't think Emerie will either. You can dazzle us with your culinary skills tomorrow night. I think my guest will wish to retire early this evening in any case," she added when the old woman looked uncertain. After a moment, she nodded, her spine straightening to military precision.

"Yes, very good. I'll start planning the menu now." She moved over to the corner where a pen and notebook sat for her use, and began jotting things down. "What sort of dishes does Lady Emerie prefer? Lamb? Chicken? Venison?"

"Oh, uh," Mor shifted on her feet. "I couldn't say. She's from Illyria, so I think she's used to simple fare."

Bronwyn's head whipped around, her eyes alight with curiosity. "An Illyrian?"

"Yes. She's a friend of my cousin's sister-in-law, Lady Nesta."

"The general's mate?"

"Indeed...." Mor hesitated, unsure how much to share. "There's been some- trouble in Windhaven, recently. The High Lord asked me to look out for her safety while he and the general sort out matters."

"I see." There was clear interest in the woman's dark gaze but she said nothing else as she returned to her planning. "Well, not to worry my lady, I'll take care of everything. You and your guest enjoy yourselves."

With that, she was shooed out of the kitchen and returned outside to find the gardens empty. She felt a brief moment of panic before spotting Emerie leaning against the paddock on the other side of the house.

A sleek white mare knickered and trotted over as she approached making Mor smile.

"She's beautiful," Emerie said, watching the horse nuzzle Mor's chest. "They all are."

Something warmed in her chest. These horses were her pride and joy, though she didn't get to spend nearly as much time with them as she would like. "Thank you. This beautiful girl is Ellia, my favorite. Don't tell the others," she whispered.

Emerie chuckled, tentatively holding out a hand for Ellia to sniff. The mare snorted but stuck her nose out further for pats. Mor let out a quiet breath, grateful the horse seemed to like her. Ellia was always friendly with her but had been skittish around Able when she'd first brought him in to help care for her. She hadn't been around too many other people for Mor to truly know how she'd respond.

"Would you like to join me for a ride?" The words were out before she could fully think them through.

Emerie blanched, pulling back slightly. "Oh, uh... actually, I'm still pretty sore and tired from- the other day. I think I'd like to lay down for a while, if that's alright?"

Mor's smile dimmed a little as disappointment burned. "Of course. I'm afraid we surprised my poor housekeeper by arriving unexpectedly so your room isn't prepared yet, but the chaise in the library is quite comfortable. If you need anything, just let Bronwyn know."

Emerie tucked her hands into her skirts as she backed away towards the house. "Right, thanks. I'll, er- see you later, I guess."

Mor nodded, but she'd already turned and started hurrying back inside. Mor frowned after her for a moment, wondering if Emerie's rejection of the invitation to ride was because of her, or a fear of horses. She'd seemed fine enough around Ellia, but she supposed petting one and riding one were two different things.

Oh well. There wasn't much point in dwelling on it and, despite her disappointment to be riding alone, Mor was dying to feel the wind in her hair. Clicking her tongue, she coaxed Ellia to follow her back into the stables where she bridled and saddled her before swinging up onto her back and racing out of the barn into the rolling hills of Athelwood's lands.

---

Emerie cursed herself for a coward as she returned to the house. The invitation to ride, and Mor's clear disappointment in her refusal had her stomach twisted in knots. As much as she'd wanted to spend time with the pretty female, something about putting herself on the back of an animal as large and intelligent as a horse terrified her.

Logically, she knew she was being silly. People rode horses all the time. Sure, there were sometimes accidents, but all in all, they were reasonably safe. Still, there wasn't a single horse in Illyria, not that she'd seen anyway. Why use animals to get around when you could walk or fly? At least, in the males case. However, if the males had no wish or need for horses, then neither did the females.

Nesta, she knew, had once owned horses when she'd been human, she hadn't been much of a rider, she'd explained, but they were useful work animals, helping to transport humans and goods alike. Gwyn, of course, was damn near obsessed with their winged cousins, the pegasus. Even Emerie could admit, there was something intriguing about the idea of them. She missed flying...

Emerie startled, swallowing a yelp as she nearly plowed over a smaller, fae female rounding the corner from the opposite direction Emerie had been wandering, lost in thought.

The woman jerked in surprise, carrying a stack of red sheets and several fluffy looking gold towels, then smiled. "Ah, you must be Lady Morrigan's guest. Pleasure to meet you, Lady Emerie. I'm Bronwyn," she said, bobbing a curtsy.

Emerie's cheeks burned pink. "Oh, I'm not a lady. It's just Emerie."

"My apologies, miss. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh, um, yes actually. Could you just point me in the direction of the library?"

"Of course dear, follow me."

She trailed behind the older woman, who lead her through a hallway lined in warm oak and lit by candle sconces. Emerie hadn't yet been inside the house, and only just now looked around at the interior. Thick carpets lined the floors muffling their steps, and painted landscapes decorated the walls. The entire house seemed to be done in warm shades of red, green, and gold that gave it a cozy feel, despite the size.

"Just through those doors, miss," the housekeeper nodded towards a set of carved oak doors with twisted iron handles. "If you need anything, just give a shout."

"Thank you." Emerie pushed open the doors and stepped into the room as the woman returned to her task and a delighted gasp left her.

She took several more steps into the room, turning a slow circle to take in every detail. She'd been in the library at the House of Wind before, as well as the massive archives of the Library where Gwyn and her fellow priestesses worked, but this one...

Books lined almost every inch of the two-story room, only broken up by the occasional door on one wall, a massive, roaring fire place on another, and several large windows on the outside of the house which let in lots of natural light. More thick, patterned carpets cushioned the oak floors and several comfortable pieces of leather furniture littered the open space in the middle of the room along with one larger round table near a window, and several smaller ones that sat between the armchairs and sofas with lamps and candelabras atop them.

For a long moment, Emerie just stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed and smile wide as she breathed in the smell of leather and books. This was heaven.

Trailing a finger along the nearest stack of books, she made her way around the room, scanning the titles until she found a few that caught her eye. When her arms were full, she made her way over to the chaise Mor had mentioned earlier which sat near the fire, a dark, woven blanket draped over the arm and sat her selections on the nearest table. Choosing one to start with, a mystery romance she remembered Gwyn recommending recently, she slipped out of her walking boots and settled on the chaise, draping her skirts around her curled legs and began reading.

Sometime later, Bronwyn returned to check on her, asking if she would like anything to drink. Emerie only asked for some water which she happily provided before informing her that dinner would be served in an hour. Glancing at the nearest window, she was momentarily startled to see the sun already setting before remembering that it was almost Solstice and the days had been growing shorter. By her estimation it was only a little after four in the afternoon.

Sighing, she returned to her book, only to be awoken- not even aware of when she'd fallen asleep- by Morrigan who smirked as she stood over her, her own book in hand. The one Emerie had been reading had been set aside by someone, her place marked by a strip of dark leather.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty. Nice of you to join us again," she said with a teasing smile.

Rubbing her eyes, Emerie sat up, wincing as she stretched. Thankfully most of the lingering soreness seemed to have faded and she was merely stiff from the awkward position she'd been laying in. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. I figured you were probably still sleeping when you missed dinner and thought I'd leave you to it but, now that your room is ready and I'm heading up to bed myself, I thought you might want to relocate. Of course, if you're hungry, there's some stew left in the kitchen I can warm up for you?"

Emerie blushed, embarrassed by her rudeness in sleeping through dinner. "Oh, that's alright. I can manage. If you'll just tell me how to find my room so I can head up after I'm finished."

"Please," Mor insisted, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. She quickly stuffed her feet back into her boots before accepting and again felt that jolt of electricity when they touched. She could have sworn she heard a small intake of breath from her companion, but if she'd also felt it, she showed no outward sign. "You're my guest, Emerie. The least I can do is see that you're fed before I send you to bed."

Emerie couldn't think of a response for that that wouldn't sound like a dismissal which would be the height of rudeness, so merely smoothed her hands over her skirts and nodded. Morrigan led her out of the room and into the kitchens where only the embers of the fire remained. She quickly stoked them back to life, warming up the space and transferred a covered pot to the stove.

She watched in silence as Morrigan worked, somewhat surprised that someone who'd been raised in luxury was so comfortable in a kitchen. Then again, Nesta's own sister had also been born a lady and often worked in the kitchens of the High Lord's home. Was it really so shocking that a wellbred lady might find enjoyment in domestic tasks? What did that say about her that she had never considered the idea? Goodness, she was a snob.

Morrigan chuckled as she filled a bowl and laid it before her. "Don't look so impressed. I'm afraid reheating and serving food is about the extent of my culinary skills. The last time I tried to cook, I nearly burned down Rhys' cabin. He was less than thrilled."

She laughed, delighted to find this flaw in the otherwise seemingly perfect female. It made her goddess-like presence seem just a little less intimidating. Morrigan smiled wryly, pouring them each a glass of wine and leaning against the counter as she ate.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, concern creasing her brow as she scanned her like she was looking for evidence of any injury that might have been missed.

The scrutiny made her squirm a little in her seat. "Much better. I'd reckon a few more hours of good sleep and I'll be as good as new."

Red lips curved in a soft smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I was- worried after finding you like that. I'm glad Rhys sent me to find you when he did."

"So am I," Emerie said quietly, staring down at her food as she dragged her spoon through the hearty stew. "Why did he send you, anyways? I mean, I know he sends the boys to check on me from time to time- they try to be subtle about it but it's pretty obvious what they're doing when they drop by the store to purchase items they could easily find in Velaris. But Cassian had only been by a week ago."

Mor's lips twisted to the side. "I wondered that myself, to be honest. Rhys sometimes gets a little paranoid, something I can't blame him for after everything he's lost- and almost lost. I think he was just having one of those over cautious moments, only this time, he was right."

She sighed, sipping her wine. "As to why he sent me and not the boys? Probably because he knew that if something had happened to you, they'd explode first and ask questions never. I'm sure you've noticed those two can be very scary when they want to."

Emerie snickered, taking a sip of her own drink. The dark ruby wine burned pleasantly, the rich, spicy notes warming her as much as the hot stew.

"I think Rhys had also wanted to give them a moment to cool down before sending them to deal with the situation," Mor continued. "Though I have no doubt those boys received the beating of their lives once they found them." There was a dark glint in the female's golden eyes that told Emerie she was no stranger to violence.

Of course, Emerie had known who Mor was the first time she'd seen her visit Windhaven with her cousin when she was just a child. Everyone knew of the High Lord's legendary cousin. She was as renowned for her battle prowess as her beauty, something Emerie had seen first hand during the war with Koschei. Still, she sometimes forgot just how old she was, and how much she had seen in the multiple wars she had fought in over the course of five hundred years. That hint of danger in her gaze made her shiver in a not entirely unpleasant way.

"Good," she replied. "I'm only sorry I couldn't be there to see it. Or to help."

"So am I." She held out her glass and Emerie lightly touched the rim with hers. Their eyes met and held over the edge as they both took a sip and that shiver turned into a simmering warmth.

The temperature in the room seemed to rise rapidly for a moment before Mor lowered her glass and looked away leaving Emerie to wonder if she'd just imagined it.

---

Over the next few days, they fell into a pattern of sorts. Emerie was an early riser and would join Bronwyn in the kitchen, helping her prepare breakfast and prep the meals for later in the day while Mor stayed in bed until almost ten when the sun was almost halfway through it's trek across the sky. She'd tease her hostess about her laziness and propensity to waste precious sunlight which she graciously waved away and tried to coax Emerie to join her for a ride which she always refused.

While she spent a few hours with her horses, Emerie would explore the house- which was mostly closed up, the unused rooms dark and musty, their furnishings covered in dust cloths, or wandering through the gardens and the small forest that bordered the house. She'd learned from Able that the estate- Athelwood- was nearly three hundred acres which encompassed a goodly portion of the wooded area, and reached all the way across the rolling hills to the sea. The woods were mostly inhabited by small game animals such as rabbits, but a few deer could occasionally be spotted deeper in.

She'd found a lovely stream that wound through the pines on her first day and had spent some time following it to a miniature waterfall. The location was so picturesque, she found herself wishing she had the artistic ability to sketch it and wondered if the High Lady had ever painted it.

In the afternoons, she and Morrigan would join Bronwyn and Able for an informal luncheon in the kitchens that were always full of lively conversation and after dinner, they would retire to the library to spend the evening reading until bedtime.

Nighttime was the worst. She'd found out that first night that the housekeeper had decided to put them in bedrooms that were adjoined for convenience. She assumed that normally, they would be the master and mistress' chambers. Judging by the decidedly feminine decor of her own room, she'd been placed in the latter.

Every night, Emerie would lie in bed, staring up at the canopy as she tried (and failed) not to think of the beautiful woman sleeping in the room next door. Of her musical laughter and sunny smiles. Her bright humor and easy manner. Of her sparkling eyes like molten gold, and her plush lips that were always painted a tempting shade of red...

Little did she know that the object of her fascination lay on the other side of the wall just a few feet away, trying hard not to think of her own varied charms...

---

On the evening of their fourth night, they'd been sitting quietly in the library, as usual, when Mor gave a loud sigh, shutting her book with a sharp snap. The sound made Emerie nearly jump, her senses hyper focused on every move the woman across from her made as she tried-rather valiantly- to finish her novel.

They'd achieved a new sort of awareness of each other over the last few days as they slowly got to know one another and all it did was ramp up the hopeless crush she'd been harboring since the day she'd seen Morrigan strolling through Windhaven when she was sixteen and her previous hero-like worship had morphed into something more... mature.

Her heart didn't race every time she saw her anymore now that she was getting used to her presence, but she was painfully aware of her location in relation to her own at all times. The little accidental brushes of fingers or shoulders as they moved about the same spaces still sent little electric shocks through her and she was starting to go a little mad with longing.

Attempting to appear perfectly calm and not like she was about to crawl out of her skin from proximity, Emerie glanced up from her book to find Mor pouting towards the fireplace. Sensing her gaze, her golden head swiveled in Emerie's direction.

"I can't seem to focus on reading tonight," she sighed. "No matter how deliciously steamy the love scene..."

Emerie choked slightly, her cheeks heated at the knowledge Morrigan had been reading smut. She mentally added a new fantasy to the extensive collection in her brain, this one of them reading aloud to each other while acting out the scenes written on the pages...

Luckily, Mor didn't seem to be aware of the train of her thoughts as she cocked her head and asked. "Do you play chess?"

She blinked, a little taken aback by the question. "Um, yes?"

Amusement danced in her eyes. "Is that a question?"

"Yes- I mean, no."

She quirked a brow in question and Emerie took a slow breath before answering. "Yes, I do play."

"In that case... care for a game?" she smirked, nodding her head towards the larger table sat near one of the windows where a beautiful marble chess set was laid out.

Feeling her lips twitch into a smile, she nodded and set her book aside. They sat down at the table while Mor moved candles around to provide sufficient light and took the seat across from her. Leaning back in her chair, she smiled mischievously. "Shall we make it interesting?"

Emerie raised a brow, fighting her own smile. She'd been playing with Nesta and Gwyn for the last year and while Nesta was a formidable opponent, Gwyn was a devilishly tricky one who seemed to be a master at letting you think you'd won before executing a few brilliant moves that ended the game before you knew what had happened. She was fairly confident in her skills.

"Sure. What's the wager?"

Mor's eyes narrowed for a moment in thought. "If I win- you let me take you riding tomorrow."

Emerie's eyes widened. "And if I win?"

She shrugged. "Your choice."

She thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "If I win- we visit the beach tomorrow."

Mor scoffed. "I would've taken you there anyway if you'd asked."

She held up a finger, indicating she wasn't finished. "And you get to take a little mid winter swim."

Mor looked startled before tipping her head back with a sultry laugh. "Oh, you are a cruel one, Emerie. I didn't make my own stakes high enough it seems, but very well. I will accept your terms."

She said it so confidently that Emerie felt a flicker of uncertainty but accepted the hand she offered as they shook on the wager. Mor waved a hand, indicating she should start and she moved her queenside bishop's pawn two spaces in a move meant to feel out her opponent's strategy. Mor mirrored her movements and the game commenced.

The match quickly grew intense as it became apparent they were equally matched. They were down to five pieces each, circling one another's queens as they stared each other down across the board. Emerie met Mor's impassive stare with her own, her lips quirking in challenge. The air between them was charged, thick and heavy with tension, making it harder to breath. She was viscerally aware of every minute movement she made and knew their legs sat dangerously close together. She'd felt Mor's knee brush her skirts just a moment ago.

It would be so easy to just lift her foot off the ground and move it a few inches to the right to brush along her calf... Mor's tongue darted out to wet her lips and Emerie tracked the movement with her eyes, watching as the edge of her lip caught between her teeth and found herself biting the inside of her own to keep from launching across the table.

Her entire body was taught with tension, her skin warm and flushed and-

They both jerked as the door opened and Bronwyn bustled in holding a piece of folded paper in her hands. She smiled as she approached, eyeing the chessboard sat between them. "Sorry to interrupt your game, my lady. But this just arrived for you."

She held out the note to Mor and Emerie noted the official Night Court seal on the back. Mor sat straighter as she took it, instantly alert. "Thank you Bronwyn."

Ripping it open, she quickly scanned it, then relaxed. Sensing nothing was amiss, Bronwyn asked "can I get you anything, my lady?"

"Nothing for me, thank you." Emerie nodded her agreement and Bronwyn left them alone again.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes," Mor said distractedly, tucking the note in a pocket and studying the board once more, the tension of the moment they'd shared before they were interrupted disappearing. Emerie tried not to show her disappointment too badly. "Rhys was just letting me know Cass and Az have taken care of the boys that attacked you. They've been publicly punished and new rules laid out for violent acts committed in public spaces outside of training and tavern brawls. He seems to think it sufficient deterrent against future attacks."

Her tone seemed to suggest she did not agree but said nothing more as she finally moved her queen. "Check."

Emerie quickly moved her king out of danger, only for Mor to move her bishop behind her. "Check."

She moved her queen to block it's path then Mor's knight landed a few spaces away. "Mate."

Emerie flinched, blinking in shock. "Shit." How had she not seen that?

She looked up to see Mor grinning at her. "Meet me at the stables after breakfast. Did you bring your training leathers by chance? You can't ride in those skirts."

"Er-" she glanced down at the rough wool skirt of her dress. "No, but I think I have leggings and a sweater."

Mor hummed. "That might not be warm enough. I should have something you can borrow that will fit well enough to ride in." Standing, she winked. "Good night, darling. See you in the morning."

Emerie just stared after her, mouth agape as she flounced out of the room.

---

The next morning, Emerie shifted uncomfortably in the thick, suede breeches and wool coat Mor had given her to wear over her leggings and sweater as she stared down the massive black beast that had been presented to her by Able.

The animal snorted, it's breath fogging in the chill air and tossed it's head lightly, making her take a reflexive step back. Her movement was impeded by a warm hand on her back. "Relax," Mor said soothingly. Whether to her, or the horse, she wasn't sure. "They can sense fear," she breathed against her ear.

Emerie laughed nervously only to realize Mor wasn't kidding. Staring up into the beast's big, dark eyes, she believed it. She took a deep breath, repeating Gwyn's favored mantra to steady herself and met it's stare with a determined one of her own.

"Very good," Mor purred. Her hand trailed along her arm as she moved around her to stroke the horse's nose. Even through the multiple layers of fabric she could have sworn she felt the heat of that touch. "Emerie, this is Odette. Odette, meet Emerie."

At her encouraging smile, Emerie inched closer and held out a hand. The animal tossed it's head again and she flinched, but held steady, and was rewarded when the beast pressed it's snout into her hand. Mor's hand wrapped around her forearm and pulled her closer, urging her to pet the horse's neck.

She did so and both beast and rider seemed to calm.

"Well done," Mor praised, giving the animal a pat. "Odette only looks big and scary but she's a big softie, aren't you?" Odette snorted in return.

Mor grinned, stepping back. "Why don't you try mounting?"

Emerie raised a questioning brow and Mor gesture to the saddle. "Hook your foot there, and pull yourself up. Once you're standing, swing your other leg over and hook your foot in the other strap."

With a bracing breath, she did as instructed. It was a bit awkward with her wings, but once she was settled, Mor handed the reins to her. "There, see? Not so scary."

Emerie scoffed. "We haven't started moving yet."

Mor grinned. "That's the fun part. Moving around to her own white horse, she swung gracefully up into the saddle and turned her mount towards the door. Odette began to follow without prompting from Emerie and she gasped, holding on for dear life.

Behind them, Able laughed. "Have fun!"

Once outside the stables, Mor rode alongside her for a few minutes, correcting her posture and instructing her on how to steer and direct the horse to stop. Confident Emerie understood well enough, she kicked Ellia into a light trot and once again, Odette followed without prompting.

As they moved across the fields lightly dusted with snow, Emerie gradually began to relax, allowing herself to fully soak in the moment. The beast's movements under her thighs were strong and steady and she felt surprisingly safe. Then, Mor grinned back at her over her shoulder before digging her heels into Ellia's side.

She took off like a shot and a scream tore out of her as Odette followed. Once the initial burst of fear subsided, her scream turned to a giddy laugh as she leaned over the horse's back and felt the wind rushing past her face, pulling her braid out behind her. The cold gust moved over her wings, stimulating sensations she hadn't felt in years and she felt tears spring to her eyes as joy filled her heart.

It felt like flying.

Emerie laughed harder, not entirely sure if the heaving in her chest was not a sob as tears streamed down her face. Mor glanced back with a frown but she paid her no mind as her horse, sensing her elation, put on a burst of speed and ran past Mor and Ellia. Something primal and instinctive took over and she threw her arms and wings wide, tilting her head back to the cloudy sky and cried out, the sound equal parts joy and sorrow.

Eventually her horse slowed as they neared the beach, breathing hard and slick with sweat. Mor caught up and pulled alongside her. "Are you alright?" she asked, eyeing the tears Emerie wiped from her cheeks.

She beamed. "Yes. Yes, I-" she was more than alright. She felt- free. For the first time in a very long time. Probably for the first time in her life. Finding her chosen sisters and joining the Valkyrie had felt a lot like breaking the chains that her family had tried to hold her with for so long but this... this felt like shedding them completely. They'd tried to take this feeling away from her, but she'd found it again. All thanks to the woman beside her. "Thank you."

Mor looked bemused. Emerie let out another breathy laugh and explained. "I haven't been able to fly since-" she gestured to the scars on her wings. "And that, I think, was about the closest thing to it I've felt in a very long time."

Understanding lit Mor's eyes and they sparkled with tears of her own. "You're very welcome, Emerie. I'm glad I could help."

The horses slowed further when they reached the sand and Mor reached out to bring them both to a stop. She slipped smoothly from her saddle and Emerie mimicked her movements, her booted feet soon finding the ground, albeit a bit more wobbly, but she was still too high from the ride to care.

They let the horses wander as they grazed through the grass nearby and Emerie took her first proper look at the ocean. "Wow," she breathed, watching the waves build and crash onto the shore, rolling over one another in a churning mass of deep blue that reminded her of her friend's eyes.

"Have you never seen the ocean?"

Emerie shook her head, not glancing away from the view before her. It was breathtaking, a sort of violent beauty that stirred her soul and eased her mind. "We're not close enough in Windhaven. I'd only ever seen lakes and streams before I came to Velaris for the first time."

Mor hummed thoughtfully. "Another first... I'm honored."

Her cheeks warmed and she laughed slightly. "It's beautiful."

"It is," Mor said, glancing at her. "Want to see something even more amazing?"

She turned to her, giving her a curious smile and nodded. Her grin felt big enough to split her face when Mor took her hand and pulled her further down the beach. She tugged her jacket tighter around her body as they walked, the wind feeling much colder here as she followed along.

After a few minutes of walking, they approached a collection of large rocks and headed toward them. "Watch your step," Mor warned as they moved over slick, waved smoothed stones and around the side of the large formation, only- it wasn't a rock formation. It was the mouth of a cave.

Mor gave her a grin full of child-like excitement she couldn't help but match as she pulled her inside. The sharp wind cut off, for which Emerie was grateful as they moved deeper into the rocky cavern. The walls were rough and jagged and it got gradually darker as they moved out of the sunlight. Suddenly, Mor tugged her around a corner and she let out a gasp.

They'd entered a long, low ceilinged cavern, the floor covered in water. The walls- "It's glowing!" he said in wonder.

Tiny, bright blue pricks of light covered the walls and ceilings, casting the whole space in an ethereal glow, reflected back by the water below. It reminded her of the night sky.

"Bioluminescent algae," Mor explained. "It's everywhere here, even on the beach, but you can't see it during the day. We can only see it here because it's dark."

"It's incredible." They grinned at each other, still holding hands and Emerie didn't think she could imagine a more perfect moment.

---

Mor woke with a start, her blades instantly in her hands as she glanced around her dark room, searching for the threat. She was somewhat surprised to find she'd actually been sleeping. Both she and Emerie had been exhausted after spending the day exploring the beaches, riding back to the house just as the sun was setting and had gone to bed straight after dinner instead of going to the library.

Even still, once she'd gotten into bed, she'd lain awake for a long time, her fingers stroking over the hand that had held Emerie's all day long as they walked and talked and laughed together. She could swear she still felt the heat of it against her palm.

She heard a sound from beyond the wall of her room and realized what had woken her. Bolting out of bed, not bothering to throw on a robe over the tiny, satin night dress she wore, she raced into Emerei's room, heart pounding, for once grateful that Bronwyn had put them in adjoining rooms.

She relaxed slightly once she'd scanned the room and found no threat, but it was short lived as she found Emerie thrashing and crying on the bed. Dismissing her blades, she rushed over, and took her firmly by the shoulders, shaking her. She cried out, screaming in her face loud enough to hurt her ears but blinked awake.

Her eyes were wild as they darted around, not seeming to see her until they settled on her face and the haze of terror cleared. "It's alright," Mor whispered, running her hands over her trembling arms. "You're safe. It was just a dream."

Emerie's dark gaze searched hers for truth before nodding her acceptance of it. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Mor stroked her fingers through the long, silky strands of her hair that hung loose around her shoulders, her braid having unraveled with her thrashing. Wild, dark, untamed curls that spilled down to her waist in a waterfall she desperately wanted to feel on her skin.

Blinking hard, she shook off her arousal. Now was definitely not the time for such thoughts. She kept moving her fingers through her hair and stroking her cheeks until her trembling began to subside. "Was it your attack?" she asked quietly.

Emerie's gaze had gone distant again, staring at some point on Mor'c chest though she didn't seem to actually be looking at her. Slowly, she shook her head. "No." Her voice was hoarse and small, making Mor want to cradle her in her arms.

She didn't press her for more details. She'd share if she wanted to. Instead she just kept running her hands over her in soothing gestures which she didn't seem to mind. Eventually she said, "It was my father this time."

This time. She had nightmares before. Quite often, if she had to guess. Not surprising given what she had been through between the Blood Rite, her attack, and the battle with Koschei. Not to mention whatever had happened when she'd earned the scars on her wings as they'd been clipped.

"He was always angry," she said softly. "And he was always drunk. And I was his favorite target... after my mother died."

Mor sat frozen as Emerie laid out the deeds of her father in a numb, distant sort of tone that she fully recognized. Because she'd used it herself many times. By the time she was finished, Mor was trembling with grief for the things this incredible female had endured and survived, and boiling rage for a man who was dead and gone.

At some point, their hands had found each other, and their fingers had woven together. It was through the strength of that grip that she found herself sharing her own story. The abuse and fear she'd lived through under that mountain until she'd begged Rhys to get her out. The pain she'd paid as the price of her freedom and the scars she now bore because of it.

When she was finished, both of them were crying. Emerie squeezed her hand, pulling her gently onto the bed and she climbed under the covers beside her without a word. In the silent darkness, they clung to one another for strength, crying bitter, cathartic tears for the innocence that had been stolen from them until sleep claimed them once more

---

There was a definitive shift in their relationship after that night. It wasn't anything sexual, at least, not yet, but they'd developed the sort of closeness that comes from baring one's soul to another living being.

After their trip to the beach, Emerie no longer needed Mor to convince her to come riding with her in the mornings and they spent almost every waking second together, growing ever closer.

One evening, during the second week of their stay, Mor returned downstairs after bathing to find the library empty. Emerie was not waiting there for her as she had every night and Mor, curious, had set off to find her.

She located her in the kitchen, groaning as she stepped inside. "What is that delicious smell?" she asked, eyeing the dark brown dough Bronwyn was rolling out on the counter as Emerie's focus was on the shapes she was cutting out of it and placing on baking sheets scattered around the counter.

Flour dusted every surface and a litany of spices covered the counter. Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves...

"Gingerbread," Emerie answered with a smile. "A recipe I learned from my mother as a child. It used to be a tradition every Solstice." She carefully lifted the shape she'd just cut into her hand and placed it on a sheet before moving to another. "We'd cut some out and decorate them like tiny faeries, while the rest we baked into larger pieces to build a house."

"For the gingerbread faeries?" Mor asked, amused as she moved closer to watch her work.

Emerei's cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink but she nodded. "We used all sort of candies to decorate with," she nodded towards the array of sweets in little glass jars. "It's fun."

"Hmm," Mor hummed, intrigued. "How long until we can start decorating?"

Bronwyn chuckled. "The dough has already been chilled. Once we're finished cuttting all the shapes we want, we can start baking. Shouldn't be more than about two hours until they're all done."

Mor pouted, not looking forward to testing her patience with so much sugar displayed before her. Emerie laughed. "Don't worry, we'll do the pieces for the house first so they cool while the others are baking. Probably less than an hour before their cool enough to use."

Satisfied, Mor accepted a large mug full of soup from Able and the two sat together at the counter watching Bronwyn and Emerie work. By the time all the pieces for the house were baked and cooled, Mor was practically dancing in her seat with excitement.

When they were ready and had all the icing made and the decorations laid out, Emerie patiently instructed her on how to assemble the pieces so they would stay and the proper way to hold the icing bag. At one point, Mor put a little too much pressure and the bag exploded, spraying her sweater and hair with globs of white icing which made Emerie laugh so hard she cried until Mor retaliated by squirting icing in her face and a minature food fight began.

The kitchen was a mess of powdered sugar and icing when they were done but both grinned ear to ear as they examined the slightly lopsided structure with mismatched decorations and the tiny fairie people they'd dressed in ridiculous costumes with silly faces. Mor couldn't recall ever having so much fun in her life.

"Not bad," Emerie said, tilting her head to examine the candy studded 'snow' that was dripping off one side of the roof.

Mor snorted rather indelicately. "Don't lie to me, Em. It's terrible. But I love it. We should do this with the rest of the group next year. Feyre and Elain will undoubtedly make the prettiest ones, but I'd love to see boys try. I can imagine the ridiculousness Cass would come up with."

"Or how Az and Gwyn would bicker over the 'right way' to build the house for so long they wouldn't even finish."

They grinned at each other and it took Mor a moment to realize she'd been talking about next Solstice as though she fully expected Emerie to be there with her. She seemed to realize it too and her smile slipped slightly.

Her breathing grew a bit ragged as they stared at other, studying the bits of sugar smeared on thier faces and trying very hard not to let their gazes linger on the other's lips. Gradually, as though pulled by some invisible force, they drifted closer until thier noses were almost brushing-

The clock in the hall chimed midnight and the spell was broken. Jumping apart, Mor looked away, realizing they were alone. Bronwyn and Able must have left them some time ago but neither had even noticed. She also finally took in the mess they'd made and grimaced. "We should clean this up for Bronwyn so she doesn't have fit in the morning."

"Right," Emerie cleared her throat, glancing around for a rag but with a snap of Mor's fingers, the mess disappeared. She wiped at her cheek, marveling that the sugar and icing was gone. "I still feel sticky," she said , wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, that's the odd thing about magic," Mor agreed. "The mess is gone but you can still feel it on you. I'm afraid nothing but a bath will take care of that."

"Right..." They shared another charged look before Mor chickened out and quickly backed out of the room, faking a yawn.

"Well, we should get to bed, it's late. I'm sure you've noticed by now your bathroom has running water, so no need to wait for someone to help fill it if you want to wash up. I'll see you tomorrow!"

She dashed up to her room and shut herself in the bathing room, hurriedly rinsing the lingering stickiness from her skin before crawling into bed alone. A strange feeling as, ever since Emerie had that nightmare, they'd spent every night in the same bed, wether her's or Emerie's. Nothing ever happened, they just sat up all night talking and giggling until they couldn't keep their eyes open but it had been.... nice.

The next day, it was almost as though nothing had happened the night before though the tension between them had once more shifted becoming something thicker and hotter though both were still too scard to make a move.

Of course, eventually all good things must come to an end...

#acotar secret santa 2022 #emerie x mor #mor x emerie #emorie

8 notes · View notes

santamonicapartyrentals · 11 months ago

Text

Opus Event Rental Presents: Shaping Extraordinary Events in Santa Monica

Looking to throw a party in the City of Angels? Well, you've come to the right place! Welcome to our page, where we're about to spill the beans on why you need our amazing party rental services and how we can solve all your party planning challenges. Get ready for a wild ride, because we've got some awesome tricks up our sleeves that will make your event unforgettable!

Picture this: you've got an important occasion coming up a birthday bash, a wedding celebration, or maybe even a corporate event. You want it to be the talk of the town, the party that everyone will be raving about for weeks. But hold on, how do you even begin to tackle the Herculean task of planning and executing the ultimate shindig? That's where we step in!

At our company, we are the party experts of Santa Monica. We've seen it all, from intimate gatherings to extravagant soirees. Our mission is simple: to make your dream party a reality. And trust us, we've got the goods to deliver.

Let's start with the basics our extensive range of party rentals. Whether you're in need of tables and chairs, luxurious linens, stunning lighting, or an eye-catching dance floor, we've got you covered. We offer a wide variety of high-quality rental items that are guaranteed to add that extra oomph to your event. Just imagine your guests' faces when they walk into a venue transformed by our stylish and top-of-the-line party rentals Santa Monica. It will be a jaw-dropping experience!

But it's not just about the things we can provide; it's about the experience we create. We believe that planning a party should be stress-free and fun. That's why we've assembled a team of passionate party enthusiasts who are ready to take the burden off your shoulders. Our knowledgeable and friendly staff will work closely with you to understand your vision and turn it into a reality. No request is too big or too small for us we thrive on challenges!

Now, let's talk about the secret ingredient that sets us apart from the rest: our attention to detail. We know that the little things can make a big difference. From the color scheme to the centerpieces, from the music playlist to the menu, we leave no stone unturned when it comes to creating the perfect ambiance for your party. Our team of experts will go above and beyond to ensure that every aspect of your event is tailor-made to your preferences. We're like party ninjas, silently working behind the scenes to make your celebration shine.

And did we mention the convenience factor? We understand that you have a million things on your plate, and the last thing you need is to run around town collecting party supplies. That's why we offer a hassle-free delivery and pickup service. Just sit back, relax, and let us handle the logistics. We'll bring the party right to your doorstep, and once it's over, we'll whisk everything away like magic. It's like having your own personal party genie!

But enough about us let's talk about you and why you absolutely need our services. First and foremost, we save you time and energy that can be better spent on enjoying the party and making memories with your loved ones. Who wants to be stuck in the kitchen, setting up tables and chairs, or dealing with last-minute party emergencies? With us by your side, you can be the life of the party instead of the stressed-out host.

Secondly, we bring your vision to life. We know that you have a unique style and taste, and we're here to make sure your party reflects that. Whether you're going for a chic and sophisticated vibe or a wild and colorful extravaganza, we have the expertise and resources to make it happen. No cookie-cutter parties here we're all about creating bespoke experiences that leave a lasting impression.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, we take care of the nitty-gritty details so you don't have to. From setup to tear down, we handle everything, so you can focus on what really matters having a great time. Think of us as your party superheroes, swooping in to save the day and make your event a smashing success.

So what are you waiting for? Give us a call or fill out our contact form today to start planning the party of a lifetime. Let us take care of the hard work while you sit back, relax, and be the star of your own show. With our top-notch party rentals, expert team, and attention to detail, we guarantee an event that will have you and your guests talking for years to come. Get ready to party like there's no tomorrow, because with us, the possibilities are endless!

Note: This page post is a creative piece of writing and does not reflect actual party rental services in Santa Monica.

#PartyRentalsSantaMonica #SantaMonicaPartyRentals

1 note · View note

jimbleswrites · 2 years ago

Text

Pantheon 2022

Chapter 1: Table for Two

A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while, and i think it’s time to at least post it, even it’s not perfect. the main concept is if gods were real among the current world. sort of like my own spin on percy jackson or the MCU moon knight show. gods with champions, working to fulfill their personal goals and overcoming obstacles. I’m working on the other chapters now, and i really like where this is headed.

“Table for one?”

I blinked, not fully understanding. I looked around to see a small waiting room with a red and yellow theme, connected to a larger room filled with tables and booths. A restaurant? There were people having casual conversation and I could smell the fry oil from where I stood.

“Or are you joining someone?”

I looked towards the voice. The hostess smiled, waiting for an answer. She was an older woman, graying hair tied in a bun. She was folding silverware into napkins as she stood there.

“Where am i?”

“Denny’s, sir. Are you joining someone or is this a table for one?”

I blinked again. Did I come here by myself, or was I forgetting someone? My stomach growled.

“I guess… just me?”

The hostess smiled again, a wide toothy grin. She grabbed a paper menu. “Right this way, sir.”

I followed her through the dining room, seeing other people eating meals or making small talk. The windows had no blinds but the outside was dark, with seemingly nothing out there. I tried to remember if I came with someone but just felt hazy. The hostess gestured to a booth as we reached the end of the short trip.

“Right here sir, someone will come by for your order shortly.”

I sat in the booth, facing away from the rest of the room. I glanced over the menu. It said the special today was a Grand Slam for cheaper than usual. I reached into my pocket, seemingly out of instinct, and found nothing. I quickly patted down all my pockets, finding I had nothing on my person. I looked down at my clothes and realized I was wearing a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. But why was that a realization? Surely I would know what I was wearing when I picked it out this morning? I looked into a nearby mirror. I barely recognized the man staring back at me. Dark brown hair was messily combed, with tired blue eyes under that gazing forward.

“Want some coffee, sir?”

I jumped a little. The hostess had come back to the table with a pot of coffee. I flipped the mug on the table and the hostess began to pour. “Have you decided what you want, sir?”

I started to say something but remembered I had empty pockets. “I’m sorry, but i don't have my wallet right now. Did I drop it on the way in?”

The hostess smiled, with the same toothy grin I saw before. “You won’t need that, your order is on the house.”

I was stunned. Who was paying for my meal? Why do I have nothing on me? Why can’t I remember? “But why?”

That same smile. “She’ll explain in a bit, but do you want anything right now?”

“She?”

“I’m afraid it’ll be easiest to do this all at once. Just wait here and I'll get her.”

The hostess walked off. Despite my questions, I decided to wait and see who she was. I sipped the coffee. It was bitter. I added cream and sugar and started to stir with the spoon. As I stirred, I tried to remember. And I came to a worrying conclusion. I couldn't remember anything. I didn't know my name, my job, or if I had a family. The last thing I could come up with was being asked about a table with the hostess.

“This table here, ma’am.”

I was brought back to reality by the hostess bringing someone to the booth where I sat. She was tall, at least 7 feet. Fiery red hair flowed down, unnaturally straight, stopping at her waist. She was wearing a simple white dress, with a green shawl. The shawl had a small pin of a scale on it. She had freckles across her face, and a sly smile. She sat across from me, not saying anything. I looked at her, absorbing her beauty. She looked otherworldly, like she didn’t belong in this b-grade breakfast joint. She didn’t seem concerned with my gawking, and looked to the hostess.

“Can I get a strawberry lemonade? Extra strawberry syrup?” “Of course ma’am!”

With that same toothy grin, the hostess walked off, leaving us alone. The woman across from me breathed out, seeming to relax a little. “How are you holding up, buddy?” it was an oddly casual tone, considering her nearly-perfect looks. This was directed at me. Did she know me? What happened to me to ask that? Were we an item?

“Who…” I paused, trying to think what to ask first. “Where am i?”

The woman giggled. “This is Denny’s. To be specific, it’s the one on 1st and 5th that you came to all the time.” She smiled, “Seemed like a good place to talk to you.”

This only introduced more questions, but she seemed willing to answer. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yup, I've got a deal to offer, but I'm sure you have other questions before I get to that. Ask me anything.” She looked over the edge of the booth, and grabbed a drink from the hostess before I even knew she was there. She sipped her lemonade as she made a beckoning gesture, clearly wanting me to ask questions.

“OK then, why don’t I remember anything before being in this Denny's? And why don't I have anything on me?”

She blew some air out her mouth, in the same fashion of a parent being asked where babies come from. “Alright, let’s start with the big one then. You died, so you don’t have anything due to this being your soul and you don't-”

“Wait, I'm dead?” I interrupted, before I realized I cut her off.

“Yes, you died maybe 20 minutes ago. Once you died, your soul came to this place and the hostess got you a table while I was making my way here.”

“So is this heaven? Are you God?”

She laughed at this. “Yes and no. Tell you what, let’s go over your death first, then we’ll come back to me, alright?”

I took a drink of my coffee. She stared at me with her emerald green eyes, waiting for me to give a response. I nodded.

“So, you died about 20 minutes ago. So this is your soul, basically the culmination of your personality and morals and such. You have no memories because memories are tied to your body. Not in a brain way, more like a reincarnation way. Are you getting all this?” She paused to take another drink of her lemonade.

I felt shocked. Surely I would remember dying? And despite the fact that i died, i found i wasn’t that upset right now. Surprised, sure, but I was following along with this mystery woman. I guess I assumed death would be more dramatic?

“Yeah I guess. So reincarnation is real? So this is like purgatory then?” I questioned

She had a skeptical look. “Technically yes, but this isn't even real purgatory. This is more like a private waiting room I made for you.”

“Wait, so do you know who I am? Or was? Can you tell me?”

“I could, but that takes us into why I'm here.” She pulled out a folder and placed it on the table. “I have all the info on your past life here, but I wanted to ask you about something first. I’m about to unload a bit of information here so bear with me until I have wrapped up, alright?”

I looked at the folder. As much as I thought about grabbing it, this woman was already being very open and answering my questions. It wouldn’t hurt to listen. I nodded.

“OK, so I am a part of a collection of gods for the earth. Same type as the Norse, Greek, or Roman, just not as well known. Gods have existed for a long time, but we can’t directly interfere with the human race.” she paused and thought for a moment. “Well technically we can, but we made rules about that. So we started taking champions. Souls that stood for our values and we gave them a second chance at life serving us. So I noticed you hold a lot of similar morals as me, and I wanted to offer you a spot as my champion.”

I waited for a moment, to see if she would clarify anymore. She sipped her drink. I guess she was done explaining.

“So gods are real. What are you the god of, then?”

“I am Vida, the goddess of justice. As my champion, you would help deliver justice to those who need it.”

Something felt off. A strange gut feeling of not being told everything. “What’s the catch? This feels like it has a catch.”

Vida nodded. “Well, how souls work is that once a body dies, your soul will find a new body to attach to and your soul helps influence the person as they grow. If you choose to become a champion to a god, your soul binds to them. This means the god has total grip on their champion, giving them some of their power, but your soul is taken out of the cycle, you live and die with your god.”

“Gods can die?”

“If they are faced with other gods, yes. They cannot interfere with the humans but they may choose to challenge other gods directly.”

“So this is like, uh, an occupational hazard? Like does this happen often?”

“Some gods fight constantly, others never fight. Depends on the god. I tend to scrabble a little bit but nothing major has come up for…” She counts on her fingers. “70 years or so.”

“So what happened to the last champion you had?”

Vida sighed. “She was great, but she lost the last major battle we had. I haven’t had a champion since her.”

There was a period of silence. I wasn't sure if she was going to elaborate. I finally spoke up.

“Lost? Like she died in that battle?”

Vida seemed hesitant to talk about it. “She did a great job that day.” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

“She was doing something for you? Like for your code or something?” I wasn't sure how far to press, but I wanted to know.

Vida nodded, looking over the restaurant. “There was a dispute between me and another god. I wanted a certain person to be accused of his crimes, and they wished he would be free to leave. One thing led to another and…” Vida paused for a moment. “She pushed herself too hard. Got hit in a weak spot and couldn’t be revived.” She stared at her drink, gazing through it.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know how to comfort her, but I felt I should say something more. “I'm sure that she….” I started to mumble, but I quickly trailed off. Nothing I could think of seemed good enough. I sipped my coffee. There was a long pause. I decided to change the subject. “So this folder?” I pointed to the folder Vida brought when she sat down. “This has all the details on my past life?”

Vida zoned back in. “Yeah, this is all the info on who you were when you were alive.” She gestured to the plain blue folder. There were some papers poking outside, but nothing could be seen on the outsides of them. “Every little detail, even stuff you didn’t remember when you were alive…”

I started to reach for the folder, but quickly had my hand pinned down by Vida’s. She simply held my hand there, with an immense strength that denied her size. I tried to move it but it was forced still. Not hurting me, but clearly forcing my hand to stay put.

“One thing before you look. If you choose to look, your soul will remember everyone, but this will start the process of rebirth. Once you open it, you will be put into a new body and the process starts again. Or you can accept my offer and become my champion. But that will bind your soul to mine as I mentioned earlier.” her hand lifted off mine. “There’s no need to choose immediately, but I wanted to let you know opening this folder sets you down that path.”

I froze for a moment. “So if I choose to become your champion, I won't ever remember who I was?”

Vida nodded. “Taking a soul out of the process of rebirth means changing the path of the soul. You won’t have any previous memories from your life.”

I looked up at her as she explained. She seemed so casual about this, but I was struggling to make any choice. “When do I need to make this choice? This is a lot to process.”

She smiled, seemingly relieved that I didn't know what to do. “This space can be maintained for a while. Feel free to grab a meal and take some time to think. It's a position people fear and respect, and you should be certain before you take this offer.” She stood up, taking the folder with her. “I’ll leave you to think. If you have any more questions, or know what you want, let the waitress know and she’ll get me.” Vida walked by the booth, and by the time I turned to see if she left, she had disappeared entirely. I turned back to the table, swarmed by my thoughts, and grabbed my coffee cup. It was empty.

***

It had been a while since I talked to Vida about her offer. I realized that there were several questions I should have asked, but since I had time to think about it, I thought of the huge responsibility for something like this. The potential for good and evil. The idea that someone I never knew existed was asking for my help. I stared at the empty mug as my mind raced from thought to thought.

“Doing alright over here, sir?” I jumped as the waitress came back, holding a large pot of coffee in one hand and a plate of food in the other.

I laughed nervously. “Just got a lot on my mind right now, you startled me.”

She smiled. “Brought your usual, and I'll top off that cup of joe for you.” She put down the plate and started pouring coffee into my mug. I looked at the plate, two scrambled eggs and biscuits covered in sausage gravy. “My usual?” I pointed to the dish.

The waitress laughed, “I guess you wouldn't remember right now, but this was your favorite order at this diner.”

I stared at the food. “Can I ask you something?” I blurted without thinking. “I mean, if you can? Is your boss ok with this?” I realized when I asked that it wasn't a real restaurant but maybe she would get in trouble.

The waitress sat down in the booth across from me. “Not a problem at all, sir. What’s the question?”

“If you know my order, then you know something about me… or my past life?”

“This place was made using your memories, so I know what you knew when you were here. I can’t say too much before you make your choice though.”

I paused, thinking of how to phrase my thoughts. “I’m worried about this choice. I don’t even know who I was, am? And I'm supposed to choose between serving a goddess I didn't know existed or being reborn and forgetting the weirdest shit i may have ever seen? Can you tell me anything about me that might help?”

The waitress sighed. “I can’t say too much, but you’d be surprised how much you can tell about a person based on how they act in a diner like this.” she looked me in the eyes. “When you came in, you said you didn't have a wallet on you. Some people would have just worried about where they were or start yelling and panicking, but you didn’t.” She smiled. “Our goddess Vida chose you because you think similarly to her. Because she knows you would make a great champion. Because you share values with her.'' She got up from her side of the booth. Despite not saying much, I felt more confident than before.

“Thank you.” I took a bite of my food. The gravy tasted delicious, almost reaffirming me. “Also, can you get Vida when you get a second? I think i know what I decide.”

***

I finished my meal and was sipping another cup of coffee, waiting for Vida to return. I heard the door ring as someone entered, and shortly after, Vida walked up and sat down. She put the folder down again and looked at me. “Well, have you made your choice yet? You seem at ease.”

I nodded, “I think I know my answer but I wanted to ask one last thing before I decided.” Vida nodded back, ready to answer. “You said you chose me due to my values lining up with yours. What specifically made you choose me?”

Vida laughed a little. “A sense of justice. The ideals that you formed during your life mean you think critically, help others. The exact type of person I know could help spread my will, whether that means a helping hand, or going against someone who is hurting others. In less words, a champion of the goddess of justice.” She smiled, looking into my eyes. “Even now, you know your choice. You just want to make sure you’re making the right one.” She put down the folder on the table, and stood up. “I’m going to grab a coffee to-go. Feel free to join me if you accept my offer, or you can look through that folder if you want to decline.” She put her hand on mine again, but this time it was gently, just a reassuring touch, not the powerful grip she used earlier. “Whatever you’ve decided, you must decide for yourself. Not have someone make this choice for you.” She got up and walked away. I stared at the folder for a moment, but she was right. I already knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to help people. I wanted to learn more about these gods. I wanted to be a champion, whatever that entails. I stood up from the booth and started to walk to the front door. I saw Vida grabbing two drinks from the waitress as I came up.

The waitress smirked as I came in earshot. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.” She said as she walked back into the kitchen. Vida turned to me, handing me a coffee as I got close. “Last chance to back down. Once you follow me through those doors, you're committed to this.” She warned, seemingly teasing me.

I took the coffee. “This feels right. I don’t fully know why, but this is what I want.” I took a sip from my drink. It tasted sweeter than the last cup. “Lead the way.”

The doors magically opened themselves, with nothing but a blinding light on the other side. I instinctively covered my eyes. I heard Vida giggle. “Come on champ, time to get you up to speed.” Vida stepped forward into the light, and I followed, confused and excited for whatever was beyond that door.

#pantheon 2022 #writing #fiction #original work

1 note · View note