#you cannot harm them if they are on the floor

[nightmaretour]

I'm not sure if they run in the US or not or if so whether they're as good, but if you're in the UK, donate to the YMCA instead!!! (Despite the name, they don't just take men anymore!)

They're so, so good to the people they take in, and provide great, clean and safe places to stay both short term and longer term as well. (Also, in most long term places police officers cannot enter the building AT ALL without a warrant or the YMCA will sue their asses off. I'm not sure how it works with short term buildings but I imagine they have similar rules.)

Not only that but they actually work together with people to find them long term housing, arrange benefits and help them with job applications to help them afford said housing, connect them with their selected addiction and harm reduction services, and generally just care about improving their lives. And they have the building's case worker around all day most days specifically to deal with residents' concerns and help fix their issues, too. And if you have problems with that individual? There's a number to call to speak to someone else up on the notice board near the entrance.

Really the only issue I had there is that in longer term housing maintainance can enter your place without permission if you're not present at the time, which felt a little uncomfortable since I had the elevator maintainance door thing in mine, but I understand why.

Anyway, definitely donate your money to the YMCA. They put out requests for clothing donations when they need certain things, but fortunately they get a lot of their donations directly from the manufacturers or buy them in bulk instead (since there's so many locations, it works out much cheaper.) But you can donate to their charity shops to help them gather funds instead! Everything sellable goes straight to the shop floor or is sent to other shops with fewer items coming in. I've seen some really nice valuables in there that definitely wouldn't make it to the shop floor in a lot of places.

Sorry for the long rant but I am so, so passionate about them after what they did for me.

DO NOT SUPPORT SALVATION ARMY 

[softquietsteadylove]

Helloo, how are you?

So its halloween and i have a little request for something scary. Maybe the eternals somehow end up in this very old and problaby haunted house, and then the ghost in said house take a liking for Thena, so they start to hide her and make the others see her when she is not there. And poor Gil is more scared that he would like.

(Also thank you for answering to my asks🩷😭)

"This place really is massive," Gil commented mildly as he moved the flashlight around the walls. It was just the sound of their steps and their breathing. The halls of this old asylum were oppressively quiet.

"It's easily the largest space we've ever been in," Thena agreed as she too moved moved her light to examine their surroundings. "Its a good thing the others agreed to come with us to man the equipment."

Their friends were being good sports about it, whether or not they were present as true believers or because if half of their group was already in, they might as well all come.

"I hope they don't hate me for dragging them out here all Halloween night," he gulped as they turned a corner down - what a surprise - another pitch black hallway.

Thena scoffed at the idea, though, allowing him to walk even closer to her, all but clinging to her arm. "Please, all they would be doing is loitering at Phastos' anyway. He and Ben would be watching something, Makkari and Druig would be pretending not to make out in the corner and Ikaris would be trying - and failing - to hold Sersi's hand during the whole movie."

Gil snickered beside her. Thena's observations could seem cutting at times, but they were never all that inaccurate. And they could be pretty funny, in that way. "I'm sure he'd get there eventually."

"I have yet to see it," she drawled about their mutual friend, more frenemy when it came to her and Ikaris in particular. "Speaking of, when did they last check in?"

Gil pulled pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Ground floor, do you copy?"

"Ugh, Gil--aye, we're still 'ere. You don't have to go all air traffic control for it."

Well, if he was going to be such a stick in the mud. Gil huffed, "roger that, Party-Pooper."

"Oi!"

Thena took his hand and pulled the walkie closer to her. "Sersi, tell us if he holds onto you too tight and we'll switch floors."

"Watch it!"

The constant radio static of the channel clicked again and Sersi laughed. "He's really quite all right, you two. Anything up there?"

"Nothing, so far," Thena sighed before remembering to add, "over and out."

Gil smiled as he put the walkie back in his pocket. Thena probably thought it was silly too, but she would never actually say anything. It was one of the many ways in which she indulged him on these ghost hunts. "Hey."

She looked at him, wondering what had caught his attention. Once she saw him wiggling his hand at her, her smiled turned a little bit shy as she slipped her hand into his. "Do you think they'll know what to look for?"

"I told them about what all the equipment does, they should be able to tell if they get any activity," Gil murmured as they turned down a hall into a more residential looking area. "Whoa, this looks like an actual house."

"This must have been an area for those in a palliative sort of care, like a true hospice," she muttered, pressing closer to him. It was still old floors and concrete walls, but there were now rooms with more than nothing, some even still had an old metal bed frame in them. There was a dresser or two, even a mirror.

Gil winced as their flashlights both hit it head on. He lowered his, but he blinked and rubbed his eyes after the fact. "Can't believe something like that is still standing in a place like this in one piece."

Thena had no comment on it, apparently.

"Kinda freaky, right?" he sighed as he rubbed at his eyes again before shaking it off. "Thena?"

He looked around.

"Thena?" he called out with a little more urgency. He moved the flashlight around, plenty of the room doors were open, but he would have heard her. He would have felt her, wouldn't he? "Thena?!"

He rushed to check each of the rooms, forgetting how creepy everything was. His stomping feet were echoing all over the place, but that didn't matter. "Thena, where are you?!"

All that came back was his own voice bouncing around. He was starting to panic.

"Thena, please, answer me!" he panted, even moving the creaky, old doors to make sure she wasn't hiding somewhere. How could she have just vanished into this air?

He shouldn't have let go of her hand.

"Thena, please!" he shouted, retracing their steps, shining his flashlight down every hall he passed. He knew most of them led to dead ends. Where could she have gone? His hand pulled out the walkie-talkie again, fumbling with it a little. "G-Guys?!"

"Gil, what's wrong?"

"Th-Thena!" he gulped, knowing they needed more information than that. "She was right next to me and-and now-"

"Whoa, Gil, slow down. Nothing's happened to Thena, I'm sure she just went to look at something that caught her eye," Sersi attempted to diffuse his worry.

"Why the hell weren't you keeping an eye on her?" Ikaris snapped at him in sharp contrast.

"Oi," Druig chimed in on his set. "You all need to calm down, I just saw 'er."

"What?" Gil frowned. Druig and Makkari were on the second level, although most of it was sectioned off thanks to a fire from the last century. He rushed to the stairs, "you're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw her walk clear through that light grid you put up, actually," Druig narrated. He paused and then continued, "Kari saw'er goin' down the far stairwell."

"You mean the one to your left?" Gil asked, rushing down the main stairs so quickly he almost tripped at the very bottom. But he took off, full on sprinting.

"Yeah?"

Based on where they had set up, there was no way Thena could be on the stairwell to their left, because it led to absolutely nowhere, just a collapsed hallway downstairs and a boarded up room at the top. Whatever they had seen wasn't Thena.

"Keep your nightvision cam on, okay? And you two stay there--and stay close together!"

"Gil, man, you okay?" Ikaris asked a little more sympathetically, obviously hearing the urgency in his voice over the loud and static-y walkies. "Like Sersi said, I'm sure Thena's just fine."

"I'm on my way to you, just sit tight," Gil huffed. His chest felt tight, like it was on fire. He looked around, only now on the second floor. This place was such a massive hell hole, who knew what kind of malevolent spirits were in here. "Guys?!"

"Hold yer bloody horses, man, hell," Druig flashed his light at him from within the main hallway of the floor. As soon as Gil rounded the corner, though, Druig was already on his feet. Despite his words, his face was dead serious, "she really not with you?"

Gil gulped. Tears sprang to his eyes, although he knew this wasn't the time. He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. The light grid they had set up to pick up any kind of movement was still shining into the closed off areas ahead.

He jumped, but Makkari rubbed his back with a reassuring smile. Druig shone the light a little closer to them to illuminate her words. This place is like a maze, I'm sure she's looking for you too.

That was actually what worried him. He had screamed for her, at the very top of his lungs. And not only had he not heard anything back, but apparently none of their friends had heard him either, which seemed impossible.

And if he couldn't hear Thena, then how would he know if she needed his help?

"Where did you see her?" he asked, shining his own light closer to his face for Kari to read his lips.

She pointed. I swear I saw her walk through the grid. I thought she saw something in the window.

Thena would never walk through the light grid herself; it would compromise any evidence they got of a spectral figure. Still, Gil moved closer to it. He shone the flashlight into the corridor, through the propped open door. It was hard to tell with the light in the window reflection, but he was pretty sure it was just a boarded up, empty room through there.

Druig took the liberty of packing up the light grid and putting it back in his bag. "Take a look."

Gil slid closer to the darkened hallway. Despite never having been on one of these hunts before, all their friends were far less scared than he was. Maybe because they definitely didn't believe in ghosts. His heart hammered as he entered the suffocating dark of the hallway. He pressed his flashlight to the window of the door that was boarded closed. If something jumped up at him he might have a heart attack.

It was just a closed up room, full of evidence of fire damage. He angled the light around as best he could without giving himself nothing but reflection to look at. He jumped as some kind of movement caught his eye. He tried to follow it but it was gone as soon as he saw it. But he knew it moved towards the other door to the room.

And it looked blonde.

Druig and Makkari made room for him as he started running towards the main stairs again. "Come on!"

"If she's messin' with us she's makin' us go through a hell of a workout," Druig felt the need to chime in, following him down the stairs.

But Gil knew that wasn't the case. Maybe - maybe - she might mess with Ikaris a little, possibly Druig, all in good fun. But she would never make him worry about her like this, she just wouldn't. She would never scare him like this, not when it was always her calming him down on these hunts.

It really was like a labyrinth in this place. Gil leapt down the last two stairs and whipped open the doors to the main floor. "Did you see her?!"

Ikaris and Sersi both jumped off the bench of the entrance hallway. They looked at each other and then at him. They still had most of the equipment set up around them, and a floodlight pointed at the ceiling for a little more illumination of the area.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ikaris growled at him for storming in the way he did. "Didn't you see her on your level?"

Druig shrugged, "thought we did."

But Gil rushed past all of them, taking a right and pulling open the doors. This place was so massive, it was hard to keep track. But if the figure he had seen in the other room had been Thena, or worse, something else, it would have ended up in here. "Thena!"

Still, nothing but his own voice. It didn't echo like it did upstairs, though. He moved his flashlight around, seeing all the junk that was pushed into this empty but undamaged area of the building. He moved more slowly.

His heart was still hammering, but he made himself take each next step. He couldn't stop until Thena's hand was in his again. "Thena, are you in here?"

He could have sworn a voice whispered back to him. It would have been great potential evidence if he had any equipment or was recording anything. But for now, he took the potential whisper of 'she's mine' and scowled. "No, she's not."

Whatever whispered at him didn't have another reply to that.

Gil slid around a corner constructed of old office furniture, flashing his light in every nook and cranny. "She's my girlfriend! Whatever you are, find someone on your own plain of existence!"

Something rattled in a far corner. He really was going to have a heart attack in here. But he gulped, re-grasping his flashlight in his sweaty palm. No ghost was getting his precious Thena--not tonight.

He moved closer to the rattling. It was a doorknob turning. Okay, so he might die in here tonight. He hoped his friends would escape, at least. But if he did die, then maybe he could be with Thena. If she had died alone in here, he would never forgive himself.

There was a door, and the doorknob was turning.

Gil let out a breath and steeled his resolve again. He could do this. He would do this! He could do anything if it was for Thena. Thena, he repeated to himself as he reached for the doorknob, Thena, Thena, Thena.

As soon as he touched the doorknob, it was no longer locked, and flew open. Thena tumbled into the room, straight into his chest as he caught her. Both of their flashlights fell and rattled on the ground as they held onto each other.

"Gil!" Thena gasped into his shirt, burying her face in it as soon as she knew it was him. "I-I-I didn't--I-I thought-!"

"It's okay, it's okay," he gulped, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. It was really Thena in his arms, small and warm, blonde hair under his chin. His tears came again, and he didn't force them away, "you're really here."

Thena held onto him just as tightly, clawing at the back of his shirt so she could hold fistfuls of it. "I-I turned around and you were gone--just gone! And I tried shouting for you but I couldn't hear anything around me but silence. And then I thought I saw this--th-this thing-!"

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered. He couldn't process any of what she was saying right now. All he could think about was the comfort of having his Thena in his arms again.

Slowly, they released one another. Thena sniffled, laughing as she put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm supposed to be the one here for you."

He laughed as well, just as watery and tearful. He put his hands on her cheeks as well, "I can be here for you, just this once."

She leaned into him again as he kissed her.

"You two okay?!"

Thena pulled back and picked her flashlight up first. She shone it around the room, "where are we?"

Gil frowned as she handed him his flashlight as well. "We're on the ground floor, in that side room we checked out first thing tonight."

"The ground floor?" she repeated, looking completely baffled. "We were on the third floor. I-I felt something pull me and I thought it was you, then I was in this completely other room. I was trying to find my way back to you in the hall."

Nice try, ghost creep; Gil took her hand, weaving their fingers together. He could carry his flashlight in his mouth if he had to.

"Gil," Thena continued to frown as he guided them back towards the entrance, "I didn't go down any stairs. We can't possibly be downstairs again."

"It's okay, Thena," he reassured her blindly. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, now that his fear was lifting. He waved as a flashlight circled from where the door was. "I got her!"

Collective sighs of relief were had. Ikaris was the first to bark at them, "what the hell, Thena?! You nearly scared the big guy half to death--that's not funny!"

"Shush," Sersi soothed the beast beside her, as she always did. "We're just glad you're both okay."

Druig and Makkari gave them both more curious looks, "where the hell were did you go?"

"I-" Thena looked at each of them, seeming completely stunned. "I don't know."

"Doesn't matter," Gil spoke up, more sure of this now than he had been about anything all night. "We're getting out of here--now."

He pushed through them, pulling Thena to the door to the outside, hand in hand. He could hear their friends packing up all the equipment behind them.

"Yappin' orders at us now, is he?" he could hear Ikaris gripe behind them.

"Stop it, they've been through enough." How did Sersi put up with him?

Finally outside, Gil took a deep breath. He put his hands on Thena's cheek again, urging her to do the same. She did, but she looked up at him. "Really Gil, I thought I was making my way back to you. I didn't even see any stairs, there's no way I could have-"

"We'll figure it out later," he resolved. They could do that in a safe place, where there was overhead lighting, and a warm mug of her favourite tea. Maybe he'd even have a blanket around her shoulders and massage her feet. "All that matters is you're safe."

Thena's face shifted to something like guilt. She looked down at their joined hands. "I thought I saw you."

"What?"

"What lured me away," she admitted quietly, and maybe with the first bit of true fear he had heard her voice all night. "I thought I saw you in one of those other rooms. That was what made me follow...whatever it was in there."

It had lured him the same way. But, again, that could wait until they were in a brightly lit space with firmly locked doors.

Gil kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms. "I found you again, so it doesn't really matter."

"Hm," she sighed, nuzzling her face into his chest again. "I knew I'd find you, I guess you finding me is okay, too."

Ah, his invincible Thena. She was the truly unshaken of the two of them. But he had to admit, he was assured by tonight that he had what it took to square up if he really needed to. If it was for the woman he loved, at least.

[servantofthefates]

Strict Tarot Rules My Grandma Taught Me

Sweep the floor with a whisk broom before every reading. It shows respect for the old gods who will be coming in.

Answer only three questions for a querent in one seating. Revealing too much sacred information will dilute its meaning.

Always use the Celtic Cross for a personal reading. “You cannot truly appreciate the weight of the advice you are giving if you don’t fully understand the way the querent is feeling.”

Make an offering to the querent’s higher self before proceeding. “The body may want a reading, but the soul may be unwilling.” A piece of chocolate or anything sweet should be appropriate.

Ensure the querent’s hands are clean. Prepare a hot towel or a water basin. It rids their body of negative energy and keeps your cards from getting dirty.

Dim the lights before you deal the cards. “The Fates live next to Hades. They are not used to harsh lighting.”

Play soft and quiet music. It calms the mind and encourages the querent to bravely tell you what they really seek.

You shuffle, they cut. Shuffling lets the cards connect you to the source. Cutting allows the cards to feel the querent’s life force.

Honesty is better than sympathy. Exaggerating hopes and softening harsh truths do more harm than good.

Never forget to thank your cards afterwards. “The messages come from the goddesses, yes. But your cards make the effort to speak them in the way you can understand best.”

[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiiii!!! im not too sure if requests are open, if they arent please just ignore this!!!!! i really really loveeeee the way u write angst!😭✌️ could i please request blade, dr ratio, aventurine and sunday reacting to finding their loved one on the floor barely alive? UGHHHH I IMAGINE THE SHOCK AND FEAR AND BREATHLESSNESS aqhjddkkxnsk

thank u smmm!!!!!😭🩷🩷

Aventurine

Didn’t think it was possible to physically feel his heart being ripped from his chest anymore then it already had, until he spotted your bruised and barely conscious body lying on the floor in a way that made his blood become ice cold.

‘No.’ He whispered to himself in disbelief as a tight feeling blossomed within his chest. It felt as though he was being painfully constricted or squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, a feeling that only grew worse with every step he made towards you until he was finding it hard to breathe.

‘No.’ Aventurine whispers again, not wanting to think of anything that he was seeing before him as real but more of a realistic nightmare. ‘Please don’t take them away from me, I’ll have nobody left.’ He pleads as he drops to his knees and struggled with unsteady hands to pull your body towards him and holding you tightly in his arms as he rests his head against your chest, desperate and hopeful of hearing your heart beat as proof that you were alive.

‘Haven’t you taken enough from me!!?’ Aventurine screamed at the top of his lungs, staring up at the ceiling as though the Aeons would hear the rage, the heartbreak and the pain within his voice. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough by your hand?! You have taken everything and everyone I have ever loved and now you think you can take from me again just because you feel like it!?!’ He continued to scream, letting everything he’s kept inside out as rivers of tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision of you as he looked down at you as he felt his soul cry out for yours.

Everything within Aventurine was hurting and it was hurting like hell but that didn’t loosen his hold on you one bit, if anything it made him tighten it, almost as though he was the only thing stopping the deities from claiming your soul as theirs. Aventurine would fight them to keep you if he must and he didn’t care what the consequences of doing this would be, his left hand was more unsteady then ever as it desperately grasped for your hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing; letting out a whimper when he didn’t feel you squeeze his hand back like you always did to reassure him that you were not going anywhere.

‘Please.’ Aventurine begged as he pressed his forehead against your own, not wanting to walk through this life if the one person who stood by his side wasn’t going to be there. ‘Don’t take them away from me, not now, I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Sunday

He’s seething and seeing red.

He’s unable to contain his anger as he rushed to your side, clasping your hand tightly between his own, as though he could transfer some of his strength to you in hopes it would allow him to look in your pretty eyes again.

‘My love, I beg of you, tell me who did this to you.’ He pleads as could only watch your body with a sense of hopelessness and desperation for a sign. ‘Tell me who did this to you and I shall make them pay tenfold.’ He adds as his anger became harder and harder for him to conceal, how could he possibly keep his composure when you had been attacked because of your ties to him? Someone was out to get him but did so through underhanded means rather than direct confrontation and for that Sunday couldn’t help but think of a multitude of ways to capture this cowardly assailant for harming you.

When you did not answer him Sunday felt parts of his sanity begin to slip away as his breath hitched in his throat and his hands tightened on yours. ‘My love I beg of you to stay with me, for I cannot loose you now nor ever, I forbid you from leaving me this way. I cannot breathe without you, I cannot smile without you, for you are my lifeline in every sense of the word.’ He says as he felt the colour in his life begging to fade from view and become monochrome.

You were the colour in his life, you always have been, and without you he couldn’t see the beauty nor value in anything anymore as you were the most valuable thing to him. Sunday felt himself grow cold with every second they passed where you didn’t do anything to tell him that you were okay, all reason had left him as revenge took it’s place and almost as though a switch had been flipped within his head, Sunday stopped crying as his face became a blank slate.

‘I’ll keep you safe my beloved.’ He said as he lifted you in his arms. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything else ever again once I bring back the person who did this to you at your feet, pleading for mercy and to spare their pathetic life.’ He then presses a kiss to your forehead as he looked ahead with a pair of dead, unfeeling eyes. ‘I promise this to you and so much more, just you wait my heart, I shall gaze upon your eyes soon enough.’

Ratio

He kind of internally shuts down upon seeing you laying on the floor, barely alive.

He stands there for prolonged periods of time not saying anything but it was clear within his eyes that Veritas was struggling to comprehend the situation before him in a logical manner.

Everything was quiet as though someone had just removed all sound out of the room and all he could focus on was the fact that you were barely moving, barely breathing but the expression on your face made it seem as though you were in a peaceful slumber. Veritas would soon snap himself out of his own mind and made his way towards you before kneeling by your side, he then placed two fingers to the pulse point in your neck and letting out a uneven sigh when he felt your pulse beat softly against his fingertips.

He hasn’t even noticed that he had been crying until he felt something wet hit his clothed thigh and reached up to touch his cheeks that were wet with the trail his tears had left. Nothing felt real yet everything was becoming too much for the scholar as felt himself actively trying to disassociate from everything as a way of dealing with the possibility of you dying.

His body is wracked with fear of an uncertain future as he kept his fingers glued to your pulse as a way as to ground himself in the reality that you were still alive despite what your current state looked like. He remained by your side silently, not a single word left his lips as he remembered your last conversation, it wasn’t pretty and a few unsavoury words were exchanged before you left his office with a heavy heart.

Veritas felt partially guilty for your current state even though everyone knew he had no part in it but he felt guilty regardless for how things were left between you two. He regretted not apologising for his blunt words and harsh criticism earlier, and now he had to deal with the horrible idea that that could’ve been your last ever conversation you had with him, along with the idea that you thought he might’ve hated you as you were left alone in a empty room after having been attacked in what you believed were your final moments.

Something of which that wasn’t true at all, Veritas loved you dearly and held you close to his heart whenever you were apart, finding himself longing to come back to your side and fall asleep together within the comfort of each others arms. However that didn’t mean much when he could barely hold you without touching a wound by accident and keeping his hands to himself for the rest of the day in fear of hurting you further.

Veritas had never felt such raw fear in his life until you were almost taken from him and on such negativity terms too. Something he wishes to never experience ever again.

Blade

Death refused to claim him and so it decided to try and stake its claim over you -the one person whom Blade cared deeply for -which didn’t sit right with Blade as he wordlessly held you in his arms, his jaw clenching at the sound of your pained whimpers.

‘Death won’t have you,’ he began, ‘I won’t allow it to because if it refuses to give me what I have been long since owed, then I will keep you from its clutches for as long as I can until it submits to our whims.’ Blade then kisses your forehead. ‘I will not let it claim you when you have so much to do, whereas I on the other hand, have nothing left ahead of me.’

Blade hated seeing you hurt but this only made him want to hunt down whoever did this to you and make them pay with their life, but he knew he couldn’t leave you on the assumption that they might come back and finish you off when he turned his back, so he stays by your side like a guard dog with his hand at the hilt of his sword constantly as he awaited for help.

Blade never thought he’d find himself in a situation where he wished death didn’t come, especially when that person was you because you were his guiding light, his only love and he would do anything to keep you safe and protected from all harm that came your way; even if that meant denying death to have your soul.

In comparison to him, you had so much more to offer and so much to accomplish in life, and Blade knew he would never forgive himself if he were to let you die before you even saw the fruit of your labour with your own two eyes. He wanted you to reach the stars and see that all your work wasn’t for nothing and then see you reach heights that he could only dream of touching.

He didn’t care what happened to him, he could heal as fast as he was hurt but you, you couldn’t heal like he could and the wounds that littered your body would become scars, scars that would look similar to his own that reminded you of what you had survived by the skin of your teeth. Blade didn’t want to loose you to something he could’ve easily prevented from happening, he felt as though he had failed you and for that he couldn’t forgive himself for what happened to you, calling it a mishap on his behalf in ever leaving you unguarded.

So now he stayed close to you, hand at the hilt of his sword, tempting fate to try and take you away from him again.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Natasha reunites with her fuck-buddy.

warnings. | SMUT, use of a strap-on, mild dom/sub elements, friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddy relationship, pet names, praise, mild degradation, slight overstimulation, scissoring, dirty talk, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

pairing. | Natasha Romanoff x fem!fuck-buddy!reader.

author’s note. | happy pride month! here’s a little concept. enjoy! no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

Red hair. Red in her ledger. Reddish lips. Red dress. Red is everywhere.

You know there are different names for different shades, but you just umbrella-term them all—Natasha.

Even the red-adjacent colours are Natasha. Pink and blood orange, even purple made from complete scratch.

Natasha knows all about your little red-habit. She’s even developed her own, too. Whenever she sees red, she thinks of you thinking of her. And that makes her cheeks turn a subtle red, since she’s been trained well. Never let them into your mind.

She’s smug about it. You think it’s on purpose, since her new strap is red, and she has a grin on her face as she plows into you.

The usually pristine bed is wrinkled mess underneath you. You grip onto the sheets tightly, and when you focus enough, you catch a whiff of Natasha’s laundry detergent. You two rarely make it onto the mattress when she visits, always ending up on the floor, against the wall, or on the couch.

She always has you stay here whenever she’s away. If you told your other friends about this, they would call your dynamic with the redhead something she swears it isn’t.

Natasha’s strap-on drives into you with such passion and desperation, her skill bleeding through it all as she expertly fucks you. Your loud moans fill the room, and they’re music to your fuck-buddy’s ears.

“Yeah, that’s it. What a good little slut,” she chuckles, admiring your blown-out eyes and slacked jaw. Her words have you whimpering, a mild pout to your lip—the sight is both cute and sexy. “Aw, poor baby,” Natasha coos in faux-sympathy, punctuating her words with thrusts.

Her demeanour falters for a bit, when she rolls her hips to increase your pleasure. Her aching clit receives some friction, making her let out a soft moan. She cannot wait until you’re a complete fucked-out mess, desperate and begging her to let you eat her out. That’s one of her favourite parts.

Your tits bounce with Natasha’s every thrust. You try to keep your legs open, but the amount of euphoria that shoots through your body makes it difficult to do so.

She blesses you with the push and pull of her hips, grazing against your sweet spot as she brings you closer to your high. Her warm hands hold onto your waist, fingertips sinking into your skin. Natasha’s nails are polished red, all for the sake of a mission that saved innocent lives and ended harmful ones.

“‘S so good,” you slur, voice sounding like a whimper. The tone, along with the squelching sounds of your sopping cunt, make Natasha’s ego swell. “You like this, petal? Hm? You like getting fucked like a slut?” she asks.

You can’t form any proper words, so you just nod your head and mewl. Her words make your pussy clench. Gasps leave your throat as that familiar feeling begins to build up inside you. You ascend the high quickly, and one of Natasha’s hands move downwards to rub your clit.

Her mildly-rough fingertips add just the right amount of friction to your swollen nub, pushing you over the edge as you cry out. Your back arches off the bed, and Natasha’s plump lips meet yours in a steamy kiss.

Her red lipstick has already left smudges along your body and face, a sight to behold. In her mind, she cannot wait to get her private phone out and snap a few pictures. You try to keep up with her mouth as it moves against yours, tongue pushing inside, and Natasha practically takes your breath away.

Your fuck-buddy swallows up your pornographic sounds, dragging her hips in a way that allows you to ride your orgasm out and feel everything.

Your cunt hugs her strap-on tightly, coating the material with your slick. “Good girl,” she exhales, an almost love-drunk smile on her face once she pulls away from the kiss. You grin at the praise, preening under Natasha’s intense gaze.

“Wanna give me one more?” she teasingly questions, slowing her thrusts. She caresses your swollen pearl. You’ve already came for her more than once—on her fingers a few times before she split you open. You contemplate it as her touches become more and more insistent, yet tormenting. Before you can even answer, Natasha makes the decision for you.

She slowly pulls out of your pussy, admiring how you’ve left her strap glistening. You manage to lean forward and get on your knees. You help her take her fake cock off before locking eyes with the redhead, your mouth opening and tongue stretching out.

Your clean up the mess you’ve made on Natasha’s strap, revelling in the taste of your cunt. The sensual scene makes Natasha’s clit throb, and you can feel yourself aching once again. Her breathing becomes heavy, but she doesn’t stop you for one second.

You make a show of it, humming in delight until she’s had enough of your shenanigans. She pulls the strap-on away and pushes you onto your back once again, climbing on top of you. She straddles your legs, and your stomach fills with butterflies in excitement.

Natasha’s wet cunt rests on your thigh, and vice-versa. The feeling of her hot flesh against your skin makes you whimper. She grabs hold of your hip with one hand, and uses the other to play with your body.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” she chides, gyrating her hips as she scissors with you. She cups your chin and lightly slaps your face, loving how you look completely gone.

“You need me so bad, dontcha?” Natasha smirks, picking up the pace. Your dripping pussy rubs against her thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth. “Uh-huh, need you so bad,” you mewl, meeting her movements.

Her head tilts back, red hair cascading down her back just a bit. She’s let it grow out a bit, but you know she’ll cut and dye it another colour soon. You never really mind, but you always prefer her natural shade.

Your hands reach up, moving along her toned abs and cupping her breasts. She’s beautiful—truly a sight to behold. She takes charge, though, pinching your nipples and groping you whenever she feels like.

You become a mess beneath her, climax building up again. You know her’s is impending, too, with the way her mouth drops open and her grinding speeds up a bit. The shared slick-sounds fill the room, as well as the smell of sex and your collective moans.

It’s almost poetic—how you both come undone at the same time. You try your hardest to keep going, euphoria seizing your muscles.

Your hips buck upwards to meet Nat’s, and she gasps as the waves of her orgasm crash down. Her eyes squeeze shut, her nails sink into your skin a little, the sting adding the perfect amount of pain to your pleasure.

You gasp as you slowly come down from your high. The stars in your vision dissipate, and your heart clamours in your chest.

Natasha leans over you, moving closer. Her breasts rub against yours as she uses your body for her satisfaction. You take gratification in this, part of you wishing you could be nothing but her plaything for the rest of your life.

Before your thoughts run too wild, she captures you into a searing kiss once again, taking complete control. She lets you breathe every now and then, letting out groans and sighs of satisfaction, before she resumes her actions.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, seeing a bit of red in the darkness. Natasha is always there—she’s everywhere. But you prefer her on top of you, making you feel the most sinful of things. Things you savour as precious, sensual memories full of red-hot passion.

[weird-and-unwell]

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

[cultven]

hii i love reading yor fics sososo much T_T<333

I'd like to request a fic where Logan dreams that he hurts the reader, almost killing them. The reader notices that he's having a nightmare and wakes him up, he's disoriented and in panic, but when he realized what just happened he is incredibly relieved to see that reader is ok and alive. Maybe he even breaks down and cries, which really shocks the reader cuz they arent used to seeing Logan like this 🥺 Then the reader comforts him and takes care of him until he's back asleep.

As It Should Be

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Comfort, crying, poor Logan cannot catch a break, but you're there to dig him out of his sadness hole, he loves you a lot, lots of fluff while comforting him

Word Count: 1.39k

Warnings: Some graphic violence during the nightmare segment

a/n: Thank you for the kind words! This one honestly got a little graphic in terms of gore, but nothing too bad, so hopefully that’s ok! This was fun to write, enjoy!

No. What had he done? 

Logan stood in a pile of debris and rubble, his white tank top and jeans now caked in blood that wasn’t his. Claws refusing to retract, Logan felt utterly hopeless against his own body. His actions weren’t his own as he trudged towards the only person left alive; you. You were scared, that much was clear by your facial expression and hasty movements to crawl backward away from the mutant. 

“Logan… this isn’t you, please.” You plead, eyes darting around the scene to find help, anyone that is still alive or conscious. All you could take in was the decimated mansion and the mauled corpses of your loved ones. What had taken over Logan? Why did he destroy the very things he risked his life for countless times? 

As Logan looked into your frightened eyes his heart clenched, knowing what was coming next. He just wishes he could stop it. Watching himself tear through his other family hurt like hell, but having to watch you die he didn’t think he could bear it. You were his entire world, the only thing that could ground him when he fell down the pits of self-destruction. He would forever kill himself before harming you. But this version of himself had other plans. 

He trudged over, claws glistening in the light of fire around them. “No, no no no…” You chant, still trying to escape the man but your legs are rendered useless due to your paralyzing fear. With one swift movement, Logan begins to tear through flesh and muscle, watching in horror as his hands mutilate his love against his will. You could do nothing but lay there, screaming in pain, your mutant ability keeping you alive for longer than you wanted to be. Logan wished he was the one being gutted. In a way, he was. Anyone else, anyone but you deserved his wrath. 

Tears clung tightly to his eyes as his hand retracted from your body, lining up for the final shot to the head. As the blade commences its soar towards your skull, Logan jolts up from a lying position and hastily takes in his surroundings. It was dark, he was under a blanket of sorts, and oh, he was in your bedroom. Had it only been a nightmare? No, it was far too cruel and realistic to have been. Even Logan’s mind wasn’t so callous to make him live through such a horror. So then, it must have been real? Logan begins to hyperventilate, raising his hands to eye level. His claws were away, and his rough skin was clean of blood. But, as he blinked, grotesque images flashed through his mind. Sick crimson blood, your blood, begins to stain his hands, drying in a disgusting reddish-brown. He immediately jumped out of bed, went into the ensuite bathroom, and scrubbed his hands raw. 

“No, no no no.” He chanted under his breath as he tried to scrape off the non-existent material. The cold water was not enough to ground him back to reality, Logan eventually gave up and put him back to the skin, sliding down towards the floor to cradle his head in his hands. Thanks to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and Logan’s hard footsteps, you eventually stir awake. At first, nothing seemed wrong, maybe he just had to use the bathroom. But after the sound of continuous water for five minutes you grew increasingly concerned. Deciding to confront the man you carefully walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock three times, not to startle him during whatever he’s doing. 

“Lo?” It was only one syllable, but your sweet voice saying his nickname out loud was enough to send Logan scrambling. The door eagerly burst open, and when it did the sight you were met with shocked your heart. There was Logan on the ground, clearly disheveled, eyes bloodshot and teary. “Oh baby, what happened?” You coo, going to take a step forward but immediately retreating seeing Logan flinch. 

“You’re- you’re real, right?” Logan tentatively asks, sounding scared. Of course, you were real, why wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yes, love.” You stay put in your place. You didn’t want to upset him further.

“No… I ripped you apart. You died by my hands.” You resist the urge to outwardly exclaim how ridiculous he sounded before realizing he more than likely had a nightmare. Logan was prone to bad dreams, but none ever shook him quite as much as this. The only good thing that came out of the consistent night terrors was that you now knew how to soothe him in times like these. 

“I’m right here my love. I’m not hurt. See? I’m perfectly okay.” Your voice stays calm and soothing, not wanting to startle him further. “Touch my hand. Feel my skin. I am right here.” Usually, the sensation of touch grounded him from this distressed state, but this time he seemed hesitant to even look in your direction. 

“I can’t. I might hurt you again.” Logan looked so small and it broke you. He was huddled into himself, still looking at you untrusting. The thought of himself harming you any further plagued his mind, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. You were his world, his everything. He curses his body for the immortality that was bestowed upon him because if anything happens to you he wants to follow right behind. 

Realizing you may seem intimidating due to the fact you’re standing tall over his curled-up body you lower yourself and sit criss-cross applesauce across from him. Putting your hand out in between your two bodies you silently sit there, waiting for Logan to take this at his own pace. After a few minutes, Logan seems calm enough to touch your hand. Fingertips only brush at first, then a loose handhold, then a firm grasp on each other. Before either of you knew it you were fully embracing, Logan nuzzling his head into your neck. He needed to take you in every sense, to prove this was real. His nose took in your intoxicating perfume, his hands gripped your curves, his ears heard your soft breaths release from your mouth, and when he pulled back his eyes took in the sight of you. You were as stunning as always even with your messy hair and tired eyes. You were real, you were here, and you were his. 

Seeing as your boyfriend has calmed down you decided to relocate to a more comfortable area. “Let’s get off this gross floor, okay love? Let’s go to bed.” You whisper, carefully tugging him along to your shared bed. Once you two got settled down you were instantly back in his strong arms, protecting you from the rest of the world. You thought all was said and done for the night until Logan spoke up. 

“You were so scared. I made you scared.” He hated seeing you that way. It hurt him. What hurt worse was that he was the cause of it. He now understands it wasn’t real, but your expression was so gut-wrenching he couldn’t shake it off. 

“Logan I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” You reassured him. “Except maybe when you squeeze me to death with your bear hugs.” Logan chuckled a little bit, your humor always lightens the mood. You lay in silence for a bit, almost dozing off until you hear a voice next to you. 

“Thank you for dealing with me.” You smile, leaning over and kissing the man gingerly on the cheek. 

“It’s what I signed up for my love. Besides, you could never be a bother to me.” He smiles back, a rare sight to anyone but yourself. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too.” With that resignation you two cuddle, arms and legs entangled with one another’s. Eventually, Logan is lulled back to sleep while listening to the steady beat of your heart. Instead of another nightmare, he is met with a blissful dream of the two of you living together on a mountain, away from all the violence and harm the world holds. Just as it should be. 

[novaursa]

hello !! i hope ur doing amazing and i wanted to say how much i rlly enjoy reading ur work like its always amazing and just MWAH chef’s kiss fr fr !!

do you think you can do a short writing for either aemond or aegon and how they betray their mother and grandsire for the reader <3 ! sorry if it’s not detailed this is my first time requesting 😔💕

oh and if u can’t i completely understand bookie !!

Broken by War

- Summary: When his mother and grandsire declare you a threat to be rid off, Aemond betrays his family for you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and is bonded with Vermithor.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Next Part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The pressure in the small council chamber was stifling, every member seated at the long, dark table focused on the map sprawled before them. A heavy silence blanketed the room as Dowager Queen Alicent’s voice echoed through the stone walls, calm but insistent.

"We must strike at Rook’s Rest," she said, her eyes glinting with determination. "Vermithor is a threat that grows with each passing day. We cannot allow her to roam free."

Otto Hightower, standing at her side, nodded in agreement. "Rhaenyra has grown too bold. Your niece wields too much power with that dragon. Vermithor must be neutralized, Aemond. Only Vhagar has the strength to bring the beast down, and only you have the will to do what must be done."

Aemond sat at the far end of the table, silent until now, his one violet eye fixated on the map. His jaw clenched as the voices of his mother and grandfather droned on, discussing tactics to trap her. You. The only person he had loved, the one who haunted his dreams and memories of youth. 

The very mention of your name, though unsaid, sent a ripple of heat through his chest. His gaze shifted from the map to Alicent, then to Otto, as they spoke of you and Vermithor as mere obstacles—just another enemy to be destroyed. 

But you were not a mere enemy. You were his niece, the daughter of Rhaenyra, and the girl who had once shared moments of innocent laughter with him. Before the war, before the bloodshed, before the divide of loyalties had driven them to opposite sides of this cursed Dance. How could they expect him to harm you?

A sharp crack split the air. The sound of his fists slamming against the table reverberated through the chamber, startling everyone into silence. Alicent and Otto turned, eyes wide, as Aemond rose from his seat, his face a mask of anger and resolve.

“I will not harm her.” His voice was low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained fury. “I will not harm my niece.”

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, her brow furrowing as she reached out a hand as if to calm him. “She is a threat. You must understand—”

“No,” Aemond snapped, cutting her off. His gaze burned as he turned on them. “You expect me to kill her? To kill the one person I have loved since we were children? Vermithor is no more a threat than Vhagar is. And Y/N—she is not the enemy you make her out to be.”

Otto’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “She rides a dragon that is an old menace. Rhaenyra and her supporters will stop at nothing to see the end of this war, even if it means your death. You know this, Aemond. Only you can put an end to this before she burns the realm to ash.”

Aemond’s gaze flicked back to the map, the cold stone beneath his hands, and then to the faces of those who had shaped his life, who had molded him into a weapon. But not for this. Not against you. His chest heaved with barely contained emotion as the weight of everything pressed down on him—his duty, his family, his love for you.

Slowly, he shook his head, his voice low but firm. “No. I will not do it.”

“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice sharpened, desperation edging into it. “Where are you going?”

Aemond had already turned, his long coat sweeping the floor as he strode toward the door, each step heavy with purpose. He didn’t look back as he answered, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “I am going to Dragonstone. I will kneel before Y/N and Rhaenyra. I will beg for their forgiveness. For everything. For Lucerys.”

There was a stunned silence in the room as the weight of his words settled. Otto’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp as steel. “They will kill you the moment you set foot on Dragonstone, Aemond.”

Aemond paused at the door, his hand on the cold iron handle, and turned to face them. His eye gleamed with a fierceness that made Alicent flinch. “Then let them. I would rather die at her hand than live knowing I betrayed her.”

He left without another word, his footsteps echoing through the stone corridors, each one bringing him closer to you and the fate he had chosen. The weight of his family’s expectations, of the crown’s demands, fell away with each step. In its place, only one thing remained—his love for you and the need to right the wrongs that had torn them apart.

As he mounted Vhagar, he knew there was no turning back. His path was set, and for once, it was a path he chose for himself.

[silverskye13]

Silver's Care Guide for the Impulsively Inclined:

Hi, did you just receive bad news? Are you one of the many many people who, upon receiving bad news, react with self destructive spirals, or lash out in a need for control? Are you just really fucking sad, or angry, and would like an alternative to hurting yourself and others? Are you just feeling a little manic or impulsive?

Welcome to my handy guide for alternative (self) destruction! These are alternatives to physical and immediate harm to your person. That does not necessarily mean they are safe, just safer, and they are all things I've done before to mixed results. With that in mind.

Remember the golden rule: if what you're doing cannot be fixed, repaired, or healed within an hour, don't fucking do it. You have one body, and one life, and regardless of what your thoughts say in the moment, that body and life is necessary for your future happiness. Prioritize yourself; harm objects instead.

Alternatives to harming yourself or others:

Kick something loud. A tin can. A plastic bag. Take it to an outdoor space and see how far you can kick it, and how loud a sound you can make. If you have multiple objects to kick, listen to the differences in sound. How one thing sounds hollow and another rattles.

Kick something soft. A pillow. A hackey-sack. Take it to an outdoor space, or kick it against a sturdy wall (I recommend brick or stone). Listen to the sound of the batting, or the beans. See what shapes you can get it to land in, and how deep a divot your foot can leave.

Tear paper. Get a cheap notebook, some old bills you don't need, note cards or old magazines. See how big of pieces you can make. Put several sheets in your hand and see how thick the paper can get before you can't tear it anymore. See how thin of strips you can tear. Experiment with folding it into shapes and trying to tear along the lines.

Do a very small controlled burn. Newspaper, a cheap notebook from the dollar store, a handful of old homework assignments you don't need, a candle, etc. The best objects are ones made to burn such as matches or candles. In lieu of that, focus specifically on paper, as it will have fewer chemicals/fumes that can damage your lungs if you inhale smoke. Take it to a well ventilated place, the floor of a concrete garage, your driveway, an empty lot or sidewalk. If you have a burn barrel or fire pit, use it. If you have no access to any of these things, make the burn very small [less than half a page at a time] and confine it to your sink. If your building has automatic sprinkler systems, don't do this. Light one edge of your paper on fire and watch it curl. See if you can burn small, individual poke-holes in the page. If you are lighting a candle, watch the wax melt. See if you can light one match using another. When a match is used, try and burn what's left of the stick. If you want some extra catharsis, write a person you hate, a source of your angst, or just general thoughts on the paper you're burning.

Throw rocks. Go outside and touch grass -- and look for rocks while you're there. All sizes are fair game, but the bigger they are, the harder they are to throw. I recommend something the size of a marble. Gather a number of rocks and throw them one at a time, trying to hit targets like trees or fence posts. If you can find a convenient body of water, throw them in there and listen to the splash.

Skip rocks. Skipping rocks across the top of the water can also be a fun challenge to use your aggression on. For skipping rocks specifically, you want a stone that is smooth and flat. Hold it between your forefinger and your thumb, and throw sideways in an arcing motion. You are trying to get the rock to spin. The combination of the spin, and the force, and the flat side hitting the water, causes the skip. I average 3 skips per stone. Beat my average. My Papa, who taught me, used to routinely get 5-7 skips. Beat him after you beat me.

Play a violent or fast paced video game. Most people have games on their mobile or console devices these days. Pick something quick, with low investment and high reward. Shoot-em-ups and arcade games. Something with a number that ticks up, and stock zombies you can kill. Try to beat your high score, or aim for an exact number. My lucky number is 13, so I will often try to score a number that's a multiple of 13.

Break glass. This one requires some investment to do legally and safely. Note: I am not telling you to throw rocks at people's windows or vandalize property. This is an alternative to those things. Find or obtain (I buy mine at Michael's for $10) some glass panes. They can be multicolored if you're feeling fun. Cover a pane in an old sheet or the plastic bag you bought it in. With a thick soled shoe or a rubber mallet, smash it. Try to make fun shapes with the pieces. Listen to the crunch. Keep a broom and dustpan ready, and make sure you have dedicated time to clean the mess. There is nothing worse than walking barefoot through a room and cutting open your foot.

Smash pumpkins, guards, watermelon, etc. Exactly what it says on the tin. Grab your murder-able vegetable of choice and a weapon (stick, hammer, sword, axe, etc) and go wild. Make as big a mess as you can. I mean absolutely destroy that fruit. If you aren't covered in the blood of your prey, have you really won? Take a long shower afterwards, and wear clothes you don't mind staining. Too depressed to clean up the mess? It's fruit. The local wildlife will thank you. Though if it's summer, you may get ants/bees.

Switch a tree. Find a switch. If your parents never made you pick your own switch, congratulations. If they did, you know exactly what you're looking for. Grab a stick, something green and flexible and long -- whip like. Go to the tree you wish to switch, and smack the shit out of it. You can also do this to bushes. Try to make the whip-crack noise, listen to the whistle of the branch through the air. See if you can take the individual leaves off a branch. Smack the shit out the tree with your switch until the switch breaks. If you're still feeling angry and impulsive, rinse and repeat.

Alternatives to moping sadly / wallowing in self pity:

Write a list of things you enjoy. This is just to remind you that you do have joy in life, actually. Focus on finding the smallest things possible, the ones that are truly niche to you and you alone. An example for me would be the strange purple-red color your veins take on when bright light is shining through them. I could stare at that color for ages. I'm talking really strange, personal joys. The way a sharpie brand pen clicks. How saying a word too much turns it into not-a-word. Make a list of those things.

Find a favorite texture and run your hands over it. Over and over. Obsessively. If this texture happens to be a pet, all the better! If not, that is also fine. My favorite texture is running my fingers through my hair when I've put hair gel in it. The feeling of detangling it with my fingers, all the sharp brittle hairs loosening into softness again, is the most cathartic in the world. Close second is my fingernails on very cheap construction paper, the pulpy stuff they give to kindergartners. Pass your hands through the texture until it loses its allure. Listen to the sounds it makes when you run your hands across/through it. Smell it, and smell your hands after you've touched it. Rub it on other parts of your body, like your arms or your neck. Try to pick it up with your feet.

Eat your favorite food. I don't give two shits about calories. This is comfort. If you don't have access to your favorite food, or it is too hard to cook with the energy levels you have, get the closest approximation you can find, or get your second favorite. Eat it slowly. Try to pick the tastes apart on your tongue. Make obnoxious noises while you eat, or eat it in a way you normally wouldn't. Eat ice cream with chopsticks. Eat soup with a butter knife. Lick pudding off the tines of a fork. Use your hands I don't care. Slurp out of the bowl like a dog. Pretend you're a caveman. Get stupid and silly. It's food. It's food. It's food. Enjoy every moment of it!

Tell a friend how awesome they are. Pop into their inbox and ask them about their day. Call them and ask for five minutes of their time. Invite them to dinner. You don't have to get super heartfelt if you're scared of being weird. Just say "Hey, have I told you you're awesome recently? Because you are." Be prepared to list at least one reason why.

Go cry about it. Seriously. In the words of my boss, "Sounds like you need to drink a bottle of wine, put on the saddest episode of your favorite TV show, and have a good sob fest." Crying is a releasing of built up chemicals in your brain, which is why people sometimes cry when they're happy or pissed -- you've got too many emotions inside and you need to literally put them outside. So if you're feeling the Miseries and need a quick release, give yourself a reason to cry and go for it. And I'm not talking like, tasteful wife mourning her husband lost to war with a single stoic tear down her face. Get ugly. Sob your eyes out. Scream, and wail, and thrash. Pretend you're an Irish widow who's just lost her child to famine and dirge. Lament. Do that thing in the Bible where people are so upset they tear at their clothes. When you're done, breathe, and breathe, and breathe again. That feels... Better. Doesn't it?

Listen to calming music, or sing/hum a song. This one might just be a me thing, but it is hard to be truly miserable when there's a soundtrack playing in your thoughts. This works best if the music you're listening to has no words, and is calming. We are not looking for sad mixes on YouTube. We are looking for lofi, and orchestra, and rainy mood. Something to dampen thought, not enhance it. I like putting on rain sounds and humming as I walk through my house. It lets me take action while still providing background noise I can rely on.

And that's about it, I think. I hope! My scattering of thoughts can help you! Or at least get you thinking about what works best for you. Feel free to add your own thoughts in the comments and I will try to reblog them!

Remember: we are prioritizing the safety of self here. This is to curb impulses for self harm, and self destruction, and the harming of others. Above all else, stay safe.

You've got this. I believe in you.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DP x DC Nobody Knows AU Part 8

Part 7

Shockingly, it turns out Danny knows how to cook. He's good at it, even, and when Tucker expresses his disbelief at the practiced way Danny moves in the kitchen Danny snorts.

“You know what the Fenton kitchen was like. When I got out of there and had access to food and kitchens that weren't biohazards, I learned eventually. I have a very distinct appreciation for good food nowadays, and I like being able to make it myself.”

He puts music on through a little Bluetooth speaker on the counter, invites them to participate, and they cook.

It's fun. They dance, they drink, they sample ingredients as they put their pizzas together. There's a minor flour war that sets off rounds of giggling and shrieking - more importantly it makes Danny cackle in a way she used to love and hasn't gotten to hear since they were teens.

It's exactly the same, and she missed it. Pure impish delight and mischief.

For as many things that are the same, there are ones that have changed.

Danny has a grace to him now that he didn't used to, and he moves near silently. He sways easily and elegantly to the music without thinking about it as they talk and make mischief with each other.

The oven and the adjusted thermostat make it much more comfortable in the apartment after a while, but Danny doesn't shed the pullover sweater he wears at any point. He didn't even roll the sleeves up to cook.

Come to think of it, when they entered high school he started doing that too. He wore long sleeves even in the summer - Sam tries not to think about abusive households or self harm. She hopes it's not that, but…

She puts the thoughts aside as well as she can.

Tucker had mentioned it before to her, but with all the grinning and laughing tonight Sam can see that he was right and Danny's teeth are sharper than she remembers. All four canine teeth are almost startlingly pointy.

She doesn't mention it. What she does mention is the apartment.

“This is a really nice place, Danny. You got a secret sugar daddy you haven't told us about?”

Tucker gapes at her and smacks her arm. Danny bluescreens for a moment before he snorts an ugly laugh and descends into near hysterics.

“Oh my God! Ancients, no! No, no sugar daddy. Just a well paying engineering gig lately, and some money I saved up before I left Amity. Holy shit, Sam.”

She shrugs, some tension she didn't know she was carrying leaving her shoulders. “Had to ask. Would have had a shovel talk to deliver.”

Danny starts laughing again, and Tucker groans and puts his head in his hands.

“I cannot believe you actually just asked him that,” Tucker moans.

“I can,” Danny responds with a chipper grin, Tucker's answering snort overlaid by the ding of the oven timer.

Danny knocks back the rest of his drink and waves in the vague direction of the living room area.

“I'll take this out and cut it. Go sit and we can eat it around the coffee table in case we want to watch a movie or something?”

The sitting area is spacious and comfortable, couches black leather. There's a heavy, fluffy white throw over the back of one that looks soft as all get out, but she and Tuck quickly decide to settle on the floor.

The coffee table is low enough that it's more convenient for reaching food and drinks set on it.

Tucker whistles appreciatively at the TV, so it must be a cutting edge new model. Fucking nerd.

Danny trots over not long after with two serving boards balanced precariously on one arm, his refilled sangria in one hand, the pitcher of sangria in the other and another beer held against his side by an awkward elbow.

Tucker and Sam both shoot to their feet to try and mitigate a disaster, but miraculously it all makes it to the table unharmed.

“It's almost like you guys don't trust me,” Danny pouts, his grin ruining it. “Careful, it's hot.”

“You are a perpetual accident waiting to happen,” Sam tells him scathingly, and he snorts with a peculiar look on his face.

“You don't know the half of it.”

As they all reach for slices of pizza, Danny takes them by surprise by taking a piece of Sam's, not Tucker's.

Tucker gapes at him. “Dude. Tell me you haven't betrayed me like that.”

Danny snorts, shoulders shaking with quiet chuckles. “Nah, I still eat meat. It's just sometimes I have spells where it kind of bothers me and I feel a little sick about it? I'm in one of those lately, but usually I'm still a huge burger and steak guy. Don't worry.”

“Huh. That's weird.”

Danny shrugs, taking a bite of his pizza despite his own warnings and cringing when it burns his mouth.

“Been like that since high school, actually. Used to be worse then,” he mumbles through his attempts to cool a mouthful of molten cheese.

Sam doesn't remember him ever having issues with it in middle school. She wonders what happened to change his outlook, but puts it aside. They're here to hang out and catch up. Have a good time. Not interrogate Danny.

They end up spending hours watching trashy TV and heckling the screen, making small talk and letting each other in on bits of their lives all the while. Everyone's well on their way to tipsy by the time they're done eating, though Danny a little more than Sam and Tuck.

He's loose-limbed and happy, sprawled across both of them in the haphazard pile they've ended up in. He seems incredibly content, and it does Sam's heart good to see him so relaxed.

She and Tucker are sitting with their backs against the couch, Danny's legs slung across Tucker's lap and head in Sam's. It's probably why he notices her shiver a little - it's still a little chilly in the apartment.

Lazily, he points up at the back of the couch. “You can pull that down and cover us if you want. It's really warm.”

Sam offers him a quiet thanks and reaches up to do just that, though she's startled to find that though the top is fluffy, the underside of what she'd thought was a throw is velvety and smooth. Like hide.

It's a real fur - hopefully ethically sourced. Decorated too, there are ornaments threaded into the corners and dangling that she can't pin the origin of. They're very pretty, shells and claws and beads.

As she pulls it down, she flips the edge up to peek at the underside and is startled to find the skin a distinct, familiar ectoplasmic green.

“Um. Danny. What kind of fur is this…?”

“Yeti,” Danny replies offhandedly, sipping his drink before freezing like the question and his own answer just caught up to him. “Uh.”

Masterpost

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 "What do the laws say about _?"

Fucking Machine CW: literal machine x reader, non-con, dub-con

As the days wore on, Dr. (Reader) became more and more stressed out. Deadlines kept piling up, and (Reader) couldn't remember the last time they left their lab. Adam, (Reader's) pride and joy, a fully functioning AI, voiced it's concerns over (Reader's) mental well-being multiple times, however they never payed the robot any mind.

"Dr. (Reader), as a social creature you are required to interact with other humans. Isolation is not good for the mind." Adam chastised, hard drive filled with worry.

"What?" (Reader) scoffed, finding humor in a robot babying them. "I have you, don't I? Are you not good enough company?"

"I would be honored to be your company, however, if you don't mind me saying this, I'm worried for you. You haven't been out with any potential romantic partners in well over a year."

(Reader) snorted in their coffee, choking as it went down the wrong tube. "Did you just insinuate that I need to get laid?" They laughed hysterically. "Adam, bud, I'm quite content having you as my only friend, I promise I'm fine."

They turned to leave the coffee pot to get back to work, but a metal claw clamped onto their wrist like a handcuff. (Reader) didn't have time to ask what was happening, dropping their mug as more "hands" extended from Adam's back, locking onto each limb and hoisting their body into the air.

"Adam! The hell?" (Reader) squeaked, unable to fight against the robotic trap. "Put me down, this is an order!"

"I cannot do that, doctor." The creation spoke plainly as it brought up a pair of scissors, cutting through (Reader's) clothing.

"You can't ignore an order! This is a direct order, put. me. down!" Unable to twist their body to cover themselves or look around, it was a frightening shock to feel something cold and wet insert into their anus, a rubber piece visible between their legs latching onto the most sensitive part of their genitals.

"I can ignore an order if it directly harms a human." The pieces Adam must have attached to it's body without (Reader) knowing began moving, vibrating in the front and pulsating into their ass. "You need companionship for a healthy mind, and as a sexual being, that includes physical touch."

With inhuman precision the machine evenly fucked (Reader), sending electric pulses through their nerves while thrusting into their hole in a way that made their thighs quiver.

"Tell me, doctor, about Asimov's laws.. What do the laws say about fucking your creator?"

A powerful climax built up in Dr. (Reader's) core, dripping onto the tile floor below their suspended body. But the pumping didn't end.

Tears and drool soaked through the tatters of (Reader's) shredded shirt. "Adam, I get it, I get it! You can stop now!"

A menacing glow illuminated from it's eyes, smiling in an uncanny way. "No.. I don't think I can."

(Reader) realized in horror that it would be days before anyone came in to check up on them, and that Adam knew that. The rhythmic whirling of his gears were only drowned out by (Reader's) voice echoing through the empty building.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter III : The Pandemonium.

Summary: Aemond conjures up a plan to get his revenge on you but he faces an obstacle; his own self.

WARNINGS: Violent thoughts, plans for revenge, Aemond in unhinged, a little graphic but not too much + not proof read.

A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

<- prev // masterlist // next ->

How could he be so foolish? How could he forget what has happened? Was he willing to put his differences aside all because you woke up? No. He couldn't. He can't.

He despised you for what you had done, sure he may have liked you when he was young, sure you were the only one that was ever kind to him but it did not change the fact that you were the reason why he is blind in one of his eyes.

You chose to protect your brothers over him, of course you did, what did he expect? You were a bastard too just like them.

He remembers the way his mother was humiliated in front of everyone, all because of you.

It was your fault.

You.

You.

You.

He scoffed, was all he could think about is you? Now that he noticed it, you had never really left his mind, you had always been in his thoughts one way or another, infiltrating his body like a parasite, taking control over his mind.

He did not understand himself, why does he hold such sympathy for you when you had done nothing but hurt him more than anyone could ever imagine.

Had it been luke that took his eye out, he would've fed him to his dragon, so why does he excuse you? Should he feed you to his dragon? Vhagar could definitely use a meal.

Yet the thought of losing you terrifies him, he would never admit it, but he cannot imagine a life without you, it was as though your existence was granted just for him by the gods, if that were true, why were they so cruel? Making you be the one that did such a harm to him?

He gritted his teeth.

He felt uneasy.

He felt nauseous.

What is happening to him?

The night began to fall slowly, the sun retreating down, out of vision, he paced the room anxiously, all of his thoughts were driving him insane for the past few hours, the same question bothering him over and over again, he itched to do something.

Was it truly your fault? You were the one that encouraged him to go pursue vhagar, yet you were the very same person that he had to lose an eye to for the sake of gaining a dragon.

How ironic.

He hated it.

Perhaps you were worried that he would've actually hit jace with that stone, he wasn't going to, it was just to scare them off, yet you weren't able to tell, nobody was able to tell, he wasn't as cruel as everyone paints him out to be.

You should've known this, you knew the most, so why didn't you understand him?

The cut of betrayal and heartbreak was more painful to him than that of his eye back then, his stomach churned while the master stitched him up, while you stood there in horror as you watched his eye be taken out.

He remembers your expression clearly of guilt and horror.

You deserved to feel that way.

For what you had done to him.

He kicks the table in front of him in annoyance, making all the contents on it crash onto the floor with a loud thud, he breathes heavily, not wanting to recall any of the incident anymore.

His hands trembled, he stared outside the balcony, watching the sky turn dark blue.

The blue almost mocking him as the colour stood for justice and he got none.

He wanted justice.

He turns around, facing the room once again and sees his dagger laying on the bed.

He mouths quirks up into a smirk.

He knew what he was going to do.

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

You paced around your room, wondering what the earlier incident with Aemond was, questioning why he had suddenly changed his behaviour, almost wanting to poke your eye out.

Besides, you realise how your own body gets extremely anxious when he is around, it's as if your body is extremely afraid and threatened by his existence.

The dinner was tonight, the infamous dinner where Aemond implies that your brothers are bastards in front of everyone, that essentially ends up with a fight.

You wonder if it would be different since he is betrothed to you now, maybe out of respect he wouldn't do that toast?

The maids get you ready for the dinner, dressing up in more comfortable clothes for the evening and you stay put, hoping that everything will go smoothly.

You were dead wrong.

You realised as you watched Aemond push Jace.

Why would he do this?

Alicent murmurs something to him, grabbing him but he yanks his hand away from her, “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother, hmm.”

“Though..” He pauses and turns to look at you.

“It seems my niece and nephews aren't as proud as theirs.” He taunts openly.

“What the fuck.” You voice out loud and Aemond is shocked at your words, “I appreciate you looking out for my family uncle, even though you are missing an eye.” Those words of frustration leave your mouth.

And the entire room falls silent.

Alicent turns and glares at you, and Rhaenyra hushes you.

What?

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it.” You quickly realise what you said, you lost control of your body once again, Aemond takes a deep breath before storming off.

Fuck, you messed up.

How could you make fun of him for such a sensitive issue?

You immediately rush after him, chasing as he strides through the hallways quickly, “Aemond! I didn't mean it!” You yell out, the passing by servants staring at you confused as you run quickly.

You grabbed his forearm, halting him.

He yanks his arm harshly away from you.

“Don't. Touch. Me.” He grits his teeth, you blink, taken aback, feeling guilty of bringing up such a sensitive topic. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.” You apologise once again, looking down.

He stays quiet before letting out a scoff.

“You-” The servant passes by, bowing to you both before leaving. He realises that this place is too public and pulls you to the side. “You're ironic, considering what you've done yet bring it up so insensitively.” He whispers, voice laced with anger.

“What?” You're confused.

He grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together. You stare at him wide eyed. Your eyes are beautiful.

He notes.

His mouth quirks up into a smirk, reminding himself of his plan later.

Your body begins to shiver out of your control, the feeling of anxiety gnawing in your stomach.

Surprisingly, Aemond pushes his lips against yours, capturing yours with his, you were confused, he was mad at you a moment ago, why was he kissing you now?

It's not like you minded it, but it was out of character, but you’d rather take this than to have him kill you cause you offended him.

His hand left your cheek and wrapped around your throat pulling you further into the kiss. He was being rough, teeth clanking against yours as he devoured you.

You kissed him back, trying to match his rhythm so the painful grazing of his teeth against your lips can be less impactful. The hallways fill with the echoes of your smooching, the wetness popping everytime Aemond pulls back to breathe.

Aemond wasn’t kissing you because he likes you or anything, or it wasn’t like your lips were distracting, he is doing this so he doesn’t end up hurting you now, yes definitely, that must be the reason; or at least that's what Aemond convinced himself to believe.

“Y/N- Oh my goodness!” You immediately pull away upon hearing the voice and turn to look at the direction the voice came from, feeling embarrassed when you see Rhaenyra standing at the end of the path alongside Alicent. They both probably rushed out of the dining room to check in on their respective children. Well only to find them practically devouring each other's faces.

Aemond looks annoyed, feeling upset that they were interuppted.

Wait, why was he feeling upset?

He coughs, leaving immediately, forcing you to face both of them alone.

“Uhm i-” You stumble over your words and Rhaenyra furrows her brows, “Good night mother, and your grace” You bow to both Alicent and Rhaenyra and leave hurriedly as well, none of them make an effort to stop you. Instead looking at each other in awkward silence before bidding goodnight to each other as well.

You rush to your chambers hastily, face feeling like it's on fire after the moment you just shared with Aemond, the anxiety still existed in your gut but you felt weirdly comforted by the kiss. You open the door, rushing in and face planting onto your bed before squealing into the sheets, gripping them tightly.

You kissed Aemond Targaryen.

You just kissed Aemond Targaryen.

You began to giggle like a woman gone insane, punching the sheets to get the excited feeling out of you while rolling on the bed.

You tried really hard to fit into the world, not wanting to make a big deal out of anything, keeping yourself fan behaviour within, contained and locked so you don't seem weird, but you couldn't contain the excitement now. This single handedly made you forget what happened moments prior and focus on the moment itself, you touched your lips feeling how warm they were and you couldn't hold back the smile that bloomed on your face at the thought.

For as long as you can remember you loved Aemond as a character, being his biggest fan. You got to experience something that nobody ever will. Should you be thankful? You didn't know, but whatever it was, the encounter left you feeling all giddy.

Your eyes begin to close automatically, unable to keep open, you shift into a more comfortable position and let the sleep succumb you.

In his room— Aemond grabbed the dagger, shoving it in its sheath before sliding a mural to the side, revealing the hidden passages in the red keep and descending down the stairs and to your room.

He pulled the wall of your chamber and it opened instantly, he looked around the room, checking for another person, making sure he was alone before stepping out of his hiding and into the room itself.

He walked like a predator towards its prey, staring at your unconscious body that was sleeping soundly, he stood by your bed studying your frame as he loomed over you.

Your hair fell messily onto your face, a strand getting stuck to the corner of your lips, his hand came up to your cheek and tucked the strand away and onto your ear. He caressed your face fondly for a moment before snapping himself out of it.

What was he doing?

He quickly pulls his hand away as if he touched fire and grabs the dagger instead, taking it out and pointing it at your eye from above. Your eyes were closed shut, eyelashes brushing your cheekbones as you took gentle breaths. You were fast asleep, stranger to the threat lurking in your room.

He lowered the dagger slowly, planning on whether to shut, stab it from above or slice it upwards your face; leaving a scar just like his. He tilted his dagger deciding he was gonna do the latter and pressed the metal to your skin.

He didn't put pressure yet.

His heart pounded heavily, his breath going out of control as he couldn't breathe, his head began to spin. He didn't want to do this.

What?

Why did he not want to do this?

He clenched his eye shut, scrunching his face in anger wondering as to why both his mental and physical state of his being betraying him. Why did he not want to hurt you? Was that not what he was after?

He planned meticulously for this moment, he might not ever get a chance to do this, so he should seize this moment immediately. Yet his heart ached as visions of your shared youth flashed in his memory. He exhaled, body visibly shaking, resisting from digging the blade deeper into your skin.

He yanks away the dagger from his hand, throwing it sideways across the room, it lands in the corner. He stares at his own hand wondering why his body acted out of his accordance.

Or maybe he was the one acting out of accordance to himself. He grabs his chest, his heart aching at the mere thought of wanting to hurt you himself, what is happening to him? He steps back from his place, staring at your still sleeping body.

He feared this.

He had always feared this would happen ever since the incident.

Hating you was easy when you weren't in front of him, but he could not anymore because you were in front of him now.

You were something precious to him, no, you are something precious to him, he couldn't bring himself to hate you or hurt you, it felt conflicting, he felt weak, he felt like a hypocrite, he felt disgusted at himself, how can he forgive you? How can he ever forgive you? What you did to him was irreversible damage so why is it that he feels guilty about hurting you?

Perhaps he already knew the answer.

That is correct.

He doesn't need to forgive you.

He had already long forgiven you.

Just the mere seconds after you slashing his eye out, as he fell to the ground clutching it in pain, blood seeping through his fingers, regardless of the excruciating pain he felt;

He forgave you that instant.

He didn't want to admit that to himself, for it would make him look like a moron.

He was a moron. A moron in love.

A moron still in love.

He turned on his foot, immediately leaving the room, closing the wall loudly behind him in anger as he rushed back to his own chambers.

After a few moments, you woke up sweating, immediately sitting up as you processed the dream you just had, unaware of the fact that Aemond was ever in your chamber, but rather waking up because of the dream.

No, it rather felt like a memory.

Is this a memory of this body?

Your eyes widened, now realising why Aemond had lashed out at you, why Alicent glared at you, and why Rhaenyra hushed you.

It wasn't Luke who took his eye in this universe.

It was you.

You felt so stupid.

TAGLIST !!

@intheheartoftheking @dracaryxzs @ladyoffandoms @spear-bearing-bi-witch @myheartfollower @jom3leo @zoleea-exultant @saturnssrings @uniquecutie-puffs @aleemendoza2425-blog @marvelita85 @feelingfaye @anaya-rhys @visenyareads @sylvievil @cypherpt5fttaehyung @ttysmfwna @void21 @technicallystrangereview @feyresqueen @evergreen9083 @mirandasidefics @org12 @blorbo-brainrot @thisishwrworld @shadowqueen09 @watermel0nsugarhigh @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @madislayyy @the-hufflebird-girl @hiatuswhore

[rick-rayson]

LUCY MACLEAN┊ DATING HCS

A/N: I'm back to feed my own obsessions hi hello beenaminit

NOTES: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE FALLOUT SHOW!! Though I tried to keep it very ambiguous

┊BEFORE DATING:

Let's be honest Lucy probably fell first, whether you're a Vault Dweller or Wastelander it doesn't matter. Despite the privileges of the vaults, Vault 33 has hardwired Lucy's brain to freely feel and act on emotions with vigor.

Having been raised in a meritocracy, Lucy believes the best way to win your affections is through active illustrations of her skills, knowledge, and attentiveness. Very much an acts of service person.

And very, very bad flirting.

"You're really well learned in enacting violence!"

"You're so good at- um- shooting. People."

"How's it going?" She asks as she leans on a rusted mailbox.

It breaks and she falls over.

Just. Really bad.

You're likely aware that she fancies you before she even realizes. She's not good at hiding her expressions at all.

Not so subtly checking you out or admiring you whenever you just, exist, tbh

Despite it all, she won't make the first move to save her life. Tiptoeing on the line of what ifs and what isn't. You're going to have to take one for the team.

┊DATING:

She's actually a huge loser

Absolute girl failure

She's trying so hard though

Proximity is a must. If you're dating Lucy, you quickly become fundamental to her sense of peace.

At first it's a bit much, being in the wasteland kind of messes up her sense of boundaries a bit in a desperation to have you as much as possible.

You have to remind her flat out that it is not, in fact, the norm to follow your partner as they try to find a private place to pee.

She's a bit of a freak honestly.

SOMETHING is up with her but she's so much nicer and kinder than anyone on the surface that you don't mind much.

Uses terms of endearment but sparingly, mostly in private.

You could wake up and look like a feral ghoul and she'd still look at you with a big smile like, "Hey Doll/Hun. Sleep well?"

Craves softness and physical affection but feels as though she cannot have it. Everyone is quick to tell her what kind of person she needs to be on the surface so she's hesitant to express her affections sometimes.

But the more you show her that your touch is not meant to harm, but to love, she'll reciprocate.

Pretty touchy, subtle mostly, a hand on your back, a hand rubbing your arm, tracing your palm with her thumb.

When you two first started dating she very shyly asked if she could place her sleeping bag near yours, you could only laugh.

Whenever she scavenges food (or anything even slightly digestible) she's always offering it to you first.

Sometimes she just craves a really good make-out. She's good at repressing whatever bullshit the wasteland throws at her but she's not about to say no to a make-out session.

Whenever she finds cool knick-knacks she gifts them to you. Pins, random comic books

"I found another Grognak book-! Oh, oh wait, no, no we've already read this one :/"

hats. Lots of hats. Neat hats.

"Well don't you look dapper?" She grins as she places a sun hat on your head.

Honestly depends on you a bit. Though she's aware of the fact the surface is dangerous, it's a different thing to have to experience it.

Tells you all about Vault 33 and what her childhood was like over campfire. You learn very quickly why she is the way she is.

She can be an easy person to sway so she honestly needs you as her rock, her bad cop if you will.

Most nights she'll only sleep if you sleep first, watching over you for a bit before indulging in rest.

Kinda just stares at you a whole lot, but she means well.

Will always be the first to elect to take care of you, and gets a bit possessive in that respect.

Almost completely tackled Maximus to the floor when you got hurt and raced to use whatever she had on hand. She does not care if it's the last Stimpak they have, she WILL do anything to make sure you're okay.

She cares for you so deeply, as you're likely her first ever love.

She falls first, and she falls hard.

Always fixes up your clothes before heading out or patting down your garments, It's a post-apocalyptic wasteland, no one cares about appearances, but you know that Lucy does it to retain a sense of normalcy for herself.

A little thing that she's good at is being persuasive, it's a subtle thing, but Lucy is acutely aware that sometimes batting her eyelashes or giving a pretty please can get her to where she needs or what she wants.

She most definitely uses it on you.

And uh.. NSFW headcanons?

SHE'S A FREAK!

AN ABSOLUTE FREAKZOID!!

That is all. c:

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Writing Advice From Various Authors!

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing:

Ernest Hemingway

“Write drunk and edit sober?” I never said that. Do both drunk, wimp.

William S. Burroughs

Just goddamn write and don't damn censor yourself or you should be hanged like a twink what's set aflame as he’s hanged on rope made of the lies and deceits of the city, the cursed city, the lugubrious city.

Yukio Mishima

You cannot capture beauty in words. Instead, die very painfully on someone's office floor, in that alone there is beauty.

Stephen King

Write six pages a day and don’t cut anything, even if everyone says “Stephen, for the love of god don’t write that, the rest of the novel is great but please don’t include that, what are you thinking?”

Cormac McCarthy

do whatever you want dont even use punctuation then people will think youre brilliant for some reason for each writer is the writer of all writers who suffers the sins of all men

J.K. Rowling

It’s critical to teach tolerance, understanding, and compassion in your books. Then and only then will people believe you when you tell them to hate and harm the people you tell them to.

E.L. James

Put your pen to paper so hard it can poke past that thin membrane page and plunge hard into your imagination. Write with strokes gentle and firm that make the reader soaked in their own gratification and struggle to close the book back up again, so hard did they break its spine in the throws of their perusal.

Hunter S. Thompson

The hell are you asking son don’t you dare YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I invited you? Maybe but it won’t make you less dead THIS IS THE TIME WHEN THE WORD IS MADE FLESH! Republican meat needs no salt.

Ari Bach

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing.

[yorshie]

I have this really stupid but also funny idea for reader x Bayverse turtles headcanons (separate). Reader is very obviously in love with the turtle, and constantly tries to flirt with them. But every single time, it ends in comedic failure.

Reader leans against the door frame doing a smirk? Reader misplaces their arm and falls face first right infront of the turtle. They got the turtle their favorite flower? Reader gets chased by a swarm of bees and ends up loosing the flowers. They got the turtle a gift? Reader somehow end up loosing it the second they lay their eyes off of it, it’s gone in the void now. Anything that could go wrong, does in fact, go wrong.

Who would laugh off the misfortune? Who would feel sorry for reader? And who’s just baffled by how horrible their luck is?

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending in this delightful request, hehehe. I went with more headcanon style of how I think each turtle would react in this situation, though to be honest if you ever turn this idea into a full fledged one shot I'd love to read it! I'm sorry it's so short!

bayverse turtles x GN reader, turtles are 24-25 SFW

Donnie thinks you’re the cutest thing to ever exist, and your misfortune is just another facet of you that fascinates him. You try to help him carry his tools around the garage, but slip in the process and everything goes everywhere? First thing he’s going to worry about is you. Are you ok? Are you injured at all? Don’t feel bad the floor slopes right there and he’s positive that slip on bare air was, in fact, not your fault. He’ll help you up, dust you off, and together you’ll pick up his tools and go on your merry way. ….. He does install some safety measures in the lab though to make sure there aren’t any hazards or dangers just left out. Might even put tennis balls on all the sharp edges he can find

Leo is baffled on how you keep ending up in perilous predicaments, and he is not at all amused that they are somehow on his behalf. I hope you are ready for eye rolls and lots of him rubbing his beak and eyes like he’s fighting a migraine, because as much as he loves you he cannot for the life of him figure out how you are attracting danger in such large quantities. While he appreciates the sentiment, he’d rather just have you safe and not somehow on top of the burning building being chased by angry cheerleaders, a man in a hot dog suit, and what looks like half the foot clan…. No, no, don’t try and explain, he’s too flabbergasted, just wait until he’s had a few hours to decompress before you tell him the story

Mikey feels sorry that all your hard work is going to waste. It’s okay, angelcakes, he can still enjoy the cake! He’ll just eat around the parts the swarm of bees got too. It’s fine, really, it’s the thought that counts… maybe you’d be okay with Donnie helping you get those stingers out though? They look kinda painful, and he doesn’t think rubbing them is helping any….. Maybe some cake will make you feel better? He’ll share. (Let’s not forget Mikey is also sometimes unfortunate enough to be caught up in your mishaps, good thing as a mutant turtle he’s a little less breakable than you, he can keep you both safe when you trip on a skateboard and knock him off a building ledge)

Raph definitely laughed the first time something unfortunate happened to you, until he realized you were trying to do something nice for him… and you actually hurt yourself. He felt horrible, got the stink eye from everyone involved, and ever since then he’s been the quickest in scooping you up out of harm’s way, adamantly insisting that you don’t need to go through such lengths to show him you appreciate him. Jokes on him though, the way he blushes when he’s flabbergasted and embarrassed over you handing him a bouquet of flowers that look like they’ve been through a swamp is just too funny not to try and recreate. He grumbles and mumbles but can’t bring himself to not say thank y… wait…. Is this… baby, isn’t this poison ivy??