#Prompt - Distress Signal

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 25 - Distress Signal

What's Out in Tidmouth Bay:

“And every year, on the date of the sinking, the ship rides the seas again, searching for the crew that abandoned her to her watery grave…” Salty finished, grinning at the assembled engines. “Rubbish!” snorted Douglas. “Thir's na sic thing as ghost ships rising up oot o' th' ocean. Whit a doolally idea. Whitevur neist? A submarine letting oot distress signals, even though thir's na yin thare?” Both he and his twin Donald sniggered. Edward scowled.

“You shouldn’t joke about lost submarines,” he said grimly. “After all, there’s a tale of a submarine that was lost off Tidmouth bay that will make you funnel quiver.” “Ooo! Tell it! Please!” exclaimed the other engines. Edward shot a dark look at them.

“This is not a pleasant story, and it’s certainly not one to make light of…” With one last sigh, the old engine began his story.

“Back during the First World War, both Britain and Germany began to deploy early submarines to disrupt shipping and try to starve their opponent out of the war. But back then, the submarines were still new technology – they rattled, and sprang leaks, and they were loud most of the time too. But when they glided underwater, not even the keenest of eyes could spot them.

“In 1916, several British submarines began docking at Tidmouth. These submarines were manned by local Sudrians who’d signed up for the navy, and they were very proud of their machines. ‘Best in the Navy!’ they would boast. ‘Never to be beaten!’ we would often reply, caught up in a great patriotic spirit for our country and our boys doing their part to defend it.

“One of the duties of these submarine crews was to tow large underwater mines into choke points in the harbour waterways. These giant, spiked balls of explosives were placed randomly, so that enemy ships would be unable to get too close to the harbour to attack. The submarines were good at this job, and the island’s people always felt safer knowing they were protecting us.

“It all changed one foggy night. A German U-Boat had been spotted off the coast of Liverpool and was sailing north towards us at a tremendous rate. At the time, Tidmouth was a major manufacturer of shells and explosives for the front line, and even one hit to the factory would do irreversible damage. The submarines in Tidmouth bay were sent out to find the German U-Boat, despite the thick fog that made navigation almost impossible – and they found it. Unfortunately, they also found the minefields.

“The radios were filled with crackly cries for help from Sudrian sailors, all lost in the fog and trying to avoid the mines they’d set while also hunting for a German U-Boat. We all waited with bated breath on the shoreline, all listening to the radio and praying for the boys…”

Edward paused, then tears filled his old eyes.

“And then, there was a flash of light – it was so bright, it pierced through the fog and lit up the entire bay – and screams. They came through the radio for only a couple seconds, but they were the longest seconds of my life. They were horrible – wretched, broken, filled with agony and suffering – and then they were gone. One of the Sudrian submarines had found the German U-Boat and fired on it… but they had missed… and hit an underwater mine. Both ships were destroyed, sinking down to their final resting places on the sea floor.”

The engines were horrified. Even Donald and Douglas were silent, eyes wide. Every engine who had lived through the First World War had known someone who had lost their lives – but to actually see it with their own eyes… it was horrific.

“But that wasn’t the end,” Edward continued, startling everyone. “One year later, the remaining submarines were sat in the harbour when their radios crackled with an unknown message. But it wasn’t just the submarines’ radios – no, it was every radio in Tidmouth. Every single one picked up this unknown, crackling message. It was a distress signal! – a shouted one, in two different languages. One was foreign – German; garbled, broken by the static of the radios. The other however… it was the lost sailors from the sunken submarine. They were shouting at each other and at us – and then there was a massive explosion that ripped through the radio-waves. There was a flash of light – and then those screams. They tortured us, far longer than the screams we’d heard on that fateful night. They were in German too now, as if both ships were wailing for their losses. And then… nothing.

“This happened again the next year, and then the year after that – and after that, the people of Tidmouth learnt. Every year, on the date of the accident, every radio in Tidmouth is switched off. It’s a moment of silence, for the men who lost their lives.”

No one knew what to say, and so they all went quietly to sleep.

The next evening, Edward was away on his branchline, and a new driver decided to leave the radio on for the engines in the sheds. This was not uncommon – the engines enjoyed the background noise; it was relaxing after a long days’ work.

It was only Donald and Douglas – Bear had the midnight goods, Gordon had the express, Salty was delivering some trucks to Elsbridge, Duck was collecting a late load of ballast, James and Henry were sleeping at the other end of the line, and Oliver was pulling the last passenger train of the evening. “Edward's story - ye dinnae hawp it, dae ye?” asked Donald. “Na! nae at a' - tis a guid story fur a friten, bit thir's na sic thing as ghosts,” snorted Douglas. “Especially nae ghosts sending oot distress signals.” “Aye, whit nonsense…”

The song on the radio ended – but another didn’t start. Instead, the radio crackled – as if suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of static. Voices could be vaguely heard from the radio, quiet – but growing louder. They were in English… and in German. They were screaming, pleading, arguing, begging for help. It was a distress signal. The voices grew louder, more garbled – and then, there was a sonic BOOM! that erupted from the radio, almost knocking the Caledonian twins off their rails.

It was followed by a horrific wailing and screaming. It ripped through Donald and Douglas, their boilers going cold at the sound. It was the sound of dying men. It stretched on for what felt like an eternity, eventually tapering off into garbled groaning, and then nothing.

An unseen figure in a top hat clicked off the radio, and vanished out the back door, unheard by the twins. They were barely holding in their tears, eyes wide and wheels quivering.

Oliver puffed in, looking very confused. “Are you two alright?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost—” “Dinnae... say that…” Donald croaked.

Oliver stayed respectfully silent.

Back to Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #traintober 2023 #traintober #ttte edward #ttte douglas #ttte donald #wwi fiction #naval #submarine #tw ghosts #railways #prompt: distress signal

[sudriantraveler]

A Floating Wreck - Traintober Day 25: Distress Signal

As he approached the old sailing ship through the fog, Zorran looked on in shock at the state it was in.

Its sails were ragged and torn, its rigging was scrappy, and its hull was decrepit and worn.

How this vessel was still afloat, was beyond him.

#this is tugs #bigg city port #tugs zorran #pencil art #traintober #traintober 2023 #Prompt - Distress Signal #I meant to have a full fic for today #But it's not finished yet #So here's some art in relation to it

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #14

When J'onn offered to go to the distress signal, alone, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Other Leaguer's were on standby, of course, but J'onn didn't sense any danger. In fact it was almost ... suspiciously quiet.

That's why when he came across a child who was bleeding so much he shouldn't even be alive he was more than concerned. The kid just smiled at J'onn, made a pun, did some sort of ... dance move? And then promptly passed out.

J'onn suddenly understood how Batman had an "adoption addiction."

#finemeal prompt #dp x dc #j'onn j'onzz #danny fenton #i just love them your honor #i think j'onn and danny is untouched parental unit material #not completely untouched #there's a lot of great j'onn and danny stories out there #if anyone wants any rec's lemme know #i got a lot #i think one is still ongoing #and it has my entire heart

[kettlefire]

DP x DC Angst Prompt

Inspired by the song Preacher by Roe Kapara

"This is a distress signal from Amity Park Illinois." A scared teen girl was the face to meet the staticy camera. Red hair pulled up in a messy bun, tear stains clear on her face, eyes rimmed red.

All options were running out. They had two days, two days before the hunt began. Two days before they lose everything.

A distress signal, broadcasted on loop, over and over again to any frequency they can get their hands on with the limited equipment they had.

"This Friday, at 3:15am, my town is going to make an irreparable mistake."

A soft clang rang from somewhere of screen, but that didn't shift her attention.

"My town, my home, has fallen to the manipulation of a deranged woman."

A choked sound came from off screen, sounds uncomfortable close to a sob.

"Amity Park has always been disconnected from the rest of the world. A small town, in it's own small world. Things have been happening here for the past two years, and now..."

She paused, glancing off screen before wiping her face.

"Now we aren't enough to save it. We did took too long to notice the cancer that was spreading. The hysteria combined with fear of the unknown that drove out town to follow her.

My name is Jasimine Fenton, I'm here with my father Jack Fenton. My mother, Madeline Fenton, is the reason the world might be facing war."

The video footage grew worse, static starting to over take the image and the audio.

"Dad, we're losing it!"

"Sorry Jazzy-bear" The new voice clearly came from a man, even if he stayed clear of the camera view. A moment passed before it was fixed.

"We don't know how long we gave before they find us, but... My baby brother Danny Fenton is going to be brutally hunt down Friday morning.

There's no time to put all the information needed in this signal, but I'm begging anyone who sees this. Please send help.

Anyone who has spoken against the plan has been imprisoned, the only ones from the team that's fear is us."

Jazz let out a shaking breath, staring off screen for just a moment before coming back, fresh tears rimming her eyes.

"All Danny every wanted to do was protect his home, and all he got in return was pain and hatred. Please, you might not know us, but you need to know. Danny holds a high position with in the ghostly realm.

Whatever you want to call it, the ghost zone, the infinite realms, or purgatory. Doesn't matter, all you need to know of the living kill Danny, the ghosts will rage war."

A heavy thud filled the room, the camera seemed to shake at the sound. Fear filled Jazz's face.

"Dad, they-"

"It's okay Jazz, finish the recording, they can't get in yet."

Jazz nodded, moving toward the camera. She seemed to cup it in her hands and tried to speak over the loud thud that continued to penetrate the area.

"We're running out of time, I hope this reaches someone somewhere. More than anything, I hope this reaches the Justice League.

Reaches them before Friday. Before the world is in true danger. Danny is the only link to peace between worlds. Don't let a woman driven by hatred be the end."

This time instead of a thud, it sounded more like a crack. The camera shifted and a view of a large man built like a tank was caught. A strange gun in one hand, and what looked like a strange grenande in the other.

"Jazzy-Bear, there's an escape tunnel in the back. Go, I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Jazz-"

"No. I don't care, I'm no use to anyone by myself. We need to stick together."

"Jasimine-"

"I'm setting the recording to loop."

"Honey-"

Loud crash broke through following another crack. Heavy footsteps followed. Voices screamed through the air.

Jazz's face filled the screen completely as gunfire could be heard.

"Please send anyone, I can't lose my baby brother too."

And just like that, the screen went black. Barely a couple seconds passed before the screen lit up again.

The video starting from the beginning. Hoping for anyone to view it.

A cry for help cycling through an endless loop until it found it's self broadcast for the League.

#danny phantom #fandom things #fandom #multi fandom blog #fanfiction writer #danny fenton #fanfic #phandom #fanfiction #dp x dc #dcu #dcau #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc comcis #dc batman #detective comics #danny phantom batman #batman #justice league

[tired-teacher-blog]

Let's talk about you teasing Bakugou in the presence of his oblivious assistant, shall we?

A soft knock is heard on Bakugou's office door, prompting his head to snap up in surprise as he groans the usual "come in" that signals his assistant to do just that.

_ "I'm sorry to bother you sir, but I have the documents you asked for, also, your three o'clock meeting is pushed to four as you requested." the soft spoken young lady expresses with a smile.

_ "Ugh, okay yeah thanks, just put'em there." he motions for her to place the pile of paperwork on his desk as he replies with obvious agitation that does not escape his assistant's attention.

_ "Right away," and she does as asked before turning on her heel and proceeding to leave, only to come to a sudden halt a moment later, "but sir, is everything alright? You look a bit unwell."

_ "What? I'm fine what the hell? Just get back to your work please." he rasps out with a mixture of frustration and distress towards the poor woman whose only concern was her boss's wellbeing.

Her worries are valid though— no matter how hard the pro hero is trying to dismiss them, because his gritted teeth and shallow breaths, the sheen of sweat covering his flushed skin, his shaky hands balled up tensely, and his unfocused eyes roaming all around the fancy office, are all signs of something that the young woman cannot comprehend nor has the audacity to pry into.

_ "Then I'll return to my desk sir, please let me know if you need anything." and with that, she finally leaves.

_ "Ah fuck.. that was close." he leans back on his chair and chuckles hazily whilst peering down through blazing eyes.

_ "You held out well though." and there you are, in all your glory, concealed under his desk while kneeling between his legs and smiling innocently as you swallowed his pearly seeds and licked your lips hungrily.

Even with his assistant in the same space as you moments ago, your friskiness and mischief coaxed you to keep on bobbing your head eagerly on your boyfriend's throbbing cock as he struggled to communicate with the woman.

_ "You're a bad girl aren't ya?" his voice turns dark and menacing, and his smirk sends shivers throughout your whole being as he admires the way his thumb glides along your reddened lips, pushing the remnants of his cum into your awaiting mouth, "c'mere."

You yelp with surprise as he pulls you up effortlessly and places you on his thick leg, his mouth instantly latching on to yours and it feels as if he's trying to eat you whole.

_ "You should pay me more surprise visits hun." he mouthes into the kiss as his hand travels up your skirt to fondle the lace hem of your panties.

_ "What are you doing? You should get back to work now! We'll continue this at home." you try squirming your way out of his clutches but he's way stronger than you are.

_ "Weren't ya paying attention just now? The meeting is pushed to four, so we have enough time to kill until then." and he means it, you know he does, because if his words aren't enough persuasion for you, then the growing stiffness nudging your thigh definitely is.

Banner by : @/cafekitsune

#bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki headcanons #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #bakugo smut #bakugo imagine #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou smut

[inou-ie]

Pairing: Yandere!Jingliu x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, reader has wings, transfem Jingliu, dubcon, dacryphilia, breeding, crying during sex, manipulation, nipple stimulation, mention of killing and blood, cutting of reader's wings.

Author's notes: I've had these requests from way before and I think the idea is interesting. Had second thoughts about this but... I've decided to serve it anyway.

MEN AND MINORS DNI

(dark content under the cut)

The creaking of the door always triggered anxiety, prompting you to hug your knees and wrap your wings protectively around yourself.

"Not even a greeting..." a cold voice pierced the silence, causing you to curl tighter. "But that's fine, you'll learn soon." The bed shifted as weight settled on it. "Show yourself, stop hiding." With reluctance, you moved your wings, reluctantly revealing yourself.

You saw Jingliu smiling at you so gently, but the sight of bloodstains on her made you feel nauseous. She moved closer, her hands working to undo the chains that bound you to the bed.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, extending her bloody hand to caress your cheek. Your breath hitched, and instinctively, you recoiled from her touch, causing her smile to vanish completely.

"Seems like you haven't learned your lesson..." she murmured. This time, she grabbed her blindfold, removing it and tossing it aside, revealing her red eyes. You've always been terrified by her eyes...

With a swift motion, Jingliu seized your hair, pulling your face closer to hers. "Looks like I'll have to teach you again how to behave towards me," she said coldly.

Panic surged through you, prompting you to grasp her arm, looking up at her while forcing a smile. "I... I missed you..." Your voice trembled, and your words nearly choked out, but upon hearing them, Jingliu released her grip on your hair.

"I thought so..." she said, her expression softening as she looked at you. "Now, come here." She opened her arms, signaling for you to hug her. Your gaze quickly shifted to the bloodstains on her body, but you concentrated on something else, trying to muster the courage to embrace her. Eventually, you wrapped your arms around her back, resting your chin on her shoulder.

Jingliu returned the hug, her hands tenderly caressing your wings, eliciting soft sounds from you. "You really are warm..." she murmured softly. Her other hand moved to the back of your head, gently patting you. Despite her comforting gestures, the scent of blood clinging to her made it difficult for you to relax fully in her embrace.

The hug persisted for a few more moments before Jingliu gently guided you by holding your shoulders, urging you to look at her face. "I love you..." she mumbled softly, leaning in slowly to plant a kiss on your forehead.

Her lips lingered on your skin for a moment before she looked at your face once again, her eyes filled with expectation, as if anticipating your response.

Feeling the pressure to reciprocate or face potential consequences, you attempted to gather the words to lie and say you loved her back.

"I... "as you tried to speak, you found yourself struggling.

"I... l-lo..." your voice faltered despite your attempts and the words you wanted to say simply wouldn't come out.

The shift in Jingliu's eyes from expectation to disappointment intensified the pressure on you to force the words out.

However, the rising anxiety within made it increasingly difficult to speak. Her disappointed gaze triggered memories of the distressing experiences with her—your cries for help while she violated your body, the echoing sounds of skin meeting skin, the feeling of her inside you, the sickening squelches—all flooding back vividly.

Jingliu grabbed your face, her eyes piercing through you. "Do you love me? Say you love me. Now!" she demanded through gritted teeth.

Love her? The sudden question echoed within you. There was simply no way you could love her, not after everything she had done to you.

She approached you, luring you into believing she was a decent person. She'd be filled with excitement recounting the heroic tales of your past accomplishments—a rare moment of joy, feeling appreciated when everyone else had forgotten.

You genuinely enjoyed your time with her, until another person saw you and recognized you... that's when it all began.

Jingliu loathed it—the way you smiled while listening to someone else's stories, the way they diverted your attention from her... she detested it all. So, she did the unthinkable—she killed that person right in front of you.

Jingliu viewed you as an angel, believing you shouldn't be tarnished by anyone deemed inferior. She perceived you as a celestial being meant solely for her possession.

You collapsed in shock upon witnessing someone you consider as a friend being brutally killed by someone dear to your heart, causing you immense distress.

Seizing the opportunity in your broken and vulnerable state, Jingliu took advantage and confined you in an unknown location—a cabin where you've remained trapped, unable to leave since that traumatic incident.

The thought of fighting Jingliu crossed your mind, but the thought of harming the first friend you made after years of loneliness and abandonment weighs heavily on you.

You tried to escape numerous times, but Jingliu always managed to catch you immediately, resulting in her teaching you a "lesson" each time you tried to flee.

"Last chance..." she whispered into your ear, her hands moving to your sides, gently caressing you. "Say you love me or I'll have to teach you another lesson... worse than the last one..." she added, her hands now delicately brushing over your wings, moving across the soft feathers.

You made the effort, trying your utmost best, but with Jingliu this close and with her gentle touches, speaking at all became impossible. Her mere presence felt suffocating, rendering you unable to voice anything in response.

Jingliu sighed deeply, leaning back to gaze at you. A trace of pity lingered in her eyes but swiftly shifted into lustful desire. "I'm doing this for you... all of this is for your sake. You have to learn." she said softly, gently caressing your face before pressing another kiss onto your forehead.

She pushed you onto the bed, causing your wings to flop onto the soft mattress. "Behave, hm? I don't want to hurt you." she said with a faint smile on her face.

"I'm... s-sor... ry..." you managed to choke out, tears forming in your eyes. You didn't even know why you were apologizing—perhaps hoping she might take pity on you and let you go, or maybe it was an apology for disappointing her. Your mind was becoming a mess, and you had no clear idea or thoughts anymore.

Jingliu just sighed, gently caressing your hips with a gentle smile. "Shh, it's okay. All you have to do is stay still and take all of it... and then I'll forgive you." she whispered, now moving her hands to lift up your shirt— the only piece of clothing she's allowing you to wear, exposing your breasts to the cold air.

Jingliu leaned down and kissed your stomach before licking her way up to your breast, licking your nipple before gently taking it into her mouth and making you grasp the sheets while moaning softly. Her other hand reached out and massaged your other breast with her icy touch.

"You're mine..." she mumbled against your sensitive nipple, making you feel shiver down your spine.

Soft whimpers escaped your lips as she continued licking and suckling on your nipple possessively, giving the same amount of attention to the other one until both of your nipples perked up.

Jingliu leaned back, admiring your body while you covered your eyes with your arms, tears starting to flow. The sight of you excited her even more. "Adorable..." Oh, how Jingliu relished the sight of your silent sobs, finding you in such a pathetic state. She desired to make you cry even more...

You heard a soft rustling sound, and as you glanced up, you noticed Jingliu slowly shedding her clothing, revealing her massive erection. It filled you with an overwhelming sense of terror and anxiety, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

The fear within you intensified even more as you thought about something so big claiming your body once again. Despite the fear, you cannot bring yourself to say no and push her away. Perhaps it's the fear of facing punishment if you deny her, or maybe... you've come to accept your situation. She's the only one you have, the sole source of comfort, the only person you can talk to.

"Now, let's become one, my angel..." She whispered huskily as she gazed down at you, her crimson eyes burning with unquenched lust. She gently held your hips while her other hand guided her massive erection toward your quivering entrance. Despite your relative dryness, she pushed steadily forward, filling you with an overwhelming sense of fullness that made you whimper in pain.

Her entry was slow yet insistent, stretching you wide enough that you feared she might tear you apart. You grasped her arms tight as your wings started flapping slightly as if your body is trying to push itself away, sobs escaping your lips as her size invaded you inch by slow inch. Jingliu sensed your distress and wrapped her powerful arms around you in a soothing embrace, humming softly in her chest as she kept moving deeper and deeper inside you.

Her cold embrace surrounded you, easing your suffering as she continued to comfort you. Her gentle whispers coaxed you through the pain and into submission. Your soft feathers flew around as your wings kept moving, your distress evident with every pained sob.

Moments passed and your wings started to droop down as you slowly adjusted to her girth, and though you were still in discomfort, your body slowly began responding to her presence.

"I've waited enough... now entertain me." With a low, husky growl, Jingliu lifted you up by the waist, bringing you closer to her lap. You couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp at the unexpected change in position, but she only smirked wickedly before pulling you down on her lap, burying her length even deeper inside you.

The new angle sent shivers racing through you as she filled you to the brim, her muscles flexing as she pulled you down harder, stretching you impossibly wide. She tightened her hold around your back, her other arm holding your waist firmly as she began a steady rhythm, pounding up into you with an insatiable hunger.

"Ah... haah... please, wait." You breathed hoarsely, attempting to push yourself away to catch your breath. But Jingliu was quick to anticipate your move, gripping your sensitive wings with a firm hand, making you cry out in response.

"Mmh, your wings are quite sensitive, aren't they?" She mused cruelly before yanking your wings more forcefully, drawing whimpers from you. "N-No... please, not my... hmnggh!" You groaned desperately, trying in vain to pull yourself away as Jingliu continued her relentless assault.

With each thrust of hers, she dragged you down onto her lap using your wings as handles, filling you more completely each time until you felt utterly consumed. You were at her mercy, helpless to stop her as she claimed your body, her grip on your wings only growing stronger and more insistent.

Feathers flew in every direction as you instinctually flailed your wings, attempting to free yourself from Jingliu's grasp. Her unwavering grip on your delicate wings only amplified your sensitivity to her every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure and pain through your entire body. "Still trying to escape?" she rasped darkly before crushing your wings even more tightly.

"You're mine... If I have to break you over and over again just for you to realize that, I will." Her voice grew thick with hunger as she plowed into you with renewed vigor, filling you completely and relentlessly pounding up into you.

Your anguished cries reverberated throughout the cabin as she mercilessly delved deeper into your depths. In torment, your hands scrabbled hungrily against her back, clawing deep furrows into her skin as you fought to preserve even a sliver of your remaining sanity.

Despite the pain of your nails piercing her flesh, Jingliu remained impervious, consumed by her passion, her focus solely on her relentless pounding. The blood trickling down her neck and shoulders only served to further fuel her desire.

Her powerful thrusts battered you from within, leaving you defenseless against the overwhelming rush of emotions. With your wings trapped and your body consumed by the intensity, your struggles eventually ceased.

Your wings drooped listlessly, your sobs fading into shallow pants as you struggled for air, your body going limp as you fell into a state of exhaustion. "I'm so close..." Jingliu purred, the sinister undertone of her voice belying the tenderness with which she held you.

"I'm going to fill you up so good, I know you love it when I do that..." she whispered, her voice low and husky. She shifted your position, forcing you to lie on your back before she continued her movements. Her thrusts grew harder, faster, deeper as she chased after her orgasm. You were powerless to resist, your mind filled with nothing but the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Your arms covered your eyes, blocking out the world around you as you tried to shield yourself from the intensity of it all.

You couldn't hold back any longer, your body convulsing as pleasure exploded within you. Your hips bucked off the bed, coating the sheets beneath you in warm, sticky fluid as Jingliu continued her relentless pounding.

As her climax finally broke over her, she cried out in a long, primal groan, her body shuddering violently as she emptied herself inside you. Her grip on your hips tightened painfully, holding you still as she rode out her orgasm to its bitter end.

Your insides warmed, slowly filling with her thick essence. She felt it envelop her length, a sensation that drove her to the brink, prolonging her own climax. Her hips slammed against your quivering body as she poured herself deeper inside of you, painting your womb white with her thick load.

Once her orgasm had ebbed away, Jingliu's thrusts gradually decreased until they came to an eventual stop. She took a minute to catch her own breath before leaning down to embrace your quivering, limp body, not even bothering to pull out.

"I love you..." she whispered lovingly, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head to see your pathetic face full of tears. "I said, I love you." she repeated, her tone threatening.

Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you stared blankly at her, too exhausted to form words. The silence only seemed to intensify Jingliu's gaze, her eyes darkening as she watched you struggle for breath. She gripped your hips firmly, pulling out of you slowly, relishing the way your body whimpered in response. Your entrance quickly filled with her thick cum, oozing out in long, slow streams.

"I planned to stop after doing it once... but you're being disobedient." she mumbled and before you could even process what was happening, Jingliu flipped you over onto your stomach, lifting your hips up high into the air.

She leaned down, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, "You'll learn to love me back. It's only a matter of time." And then, she plunged back inside of you, claiming your body once again, her thrusts growing harder, faster, deeper.

You gritted your teeth, feeling the familiar invasion of her thick length pushing in and out of your sore walls. Each thrust sent a shiver of pain through your body. You buried your face into the mattress, trying to muffle your moans as she pounded you once again. This time, her thrusts were rougher, more demanding, as if she was really trying to split you open.

She pulled you closer, her hand fisting in your hair as she forced you to raise your head. "Bad, bad angel..." she murmured, her voice a low growl. She punctuated her words with hard, punishing thrusts, each one forcing your cervix to kiss her invading length painfully. She held you tight, not letting you go even as you squirmed and writhed beneath her.

You let out heavy sighs, your throat raw and throbbing from all the moans and cries that had escaped you. You couldn't help but shiver as her other hand pressed down on the bulge her thick length was making on your stomach. Her words echoed in your mind, a dark whisper that sent chills down your spine.

"I'm the only one you have..." she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. Her thrusts grew deeper, her hips slamming against yours, claiming you completely. "You've been forgotten... your heroic actions are now just forgotten tales." She kissed your neck, her breath hot against your skin. "But with me, you'll never be forgotten. I'll always be here to remind you of your place."

"No one needs you out there anymore... you've been abandoned by the people you protected." She whispered softly, a light chuckle in her voice that seemed to echo your innermost fears. The reality of her words hit you like a ton of bricks, tears streaming down your face unbidden as a wave of sadness washed over you. Your heart ached, knowing she was right. Who were you if nobody needed you anymore?

In that moment, she suddenly yanked your head forward with such force that you collapsed back onto the mattress, her body pinning you down. "Shh, hush now..." She spoke gently, her voice soft but commanding, "You belong to me now. You'll find purpose in being mine." You sobbed into the bedsheet, overwhelmed by emotion but strangely feeling safe within her protective grasp.

As she kept you pinned down, her hips continued to grind against your sore entrance, her thick length drawing a mix of cum and your fluids. "Do you understand now? We're just two forgotten people, our only place is in each other's arms." she whispered into your ear, her words resonated inside you like a realization you were seeking.

Despite being a hero to some once, you were now just a forgotten figure, much like her own forgotten existence. It seemed like the perfect match, two forgotten entities intertwined.

She pulled out almost completely before driving herself back in with a forceful thrust that made your body jerk forward. You couldn't help but whimper, feeling completely filled by her length. In that moment, it felt as if all you had was each other, forgotten by the rest of the world, united in pleasure, and bound by a shared understanding.

She gave you long powerful thrusts that made you cling to the sheets for dear life, your eyes rolling back as you gasped for air, overwhelmed by sheer pleasure coursing through your body. Your insides ached from her relentless barrage, yet somehow it made you crave even more.

"You're tightening... hah. Keep doing that and I'll give you everything I have." she rasped, her voice thick with desire. As she said the words, her hands shifted to your stomach, pressing hard on the thick ridge of her hardened length. It sent shivers down your spine as her pleasure overflowed into you.

She continued to ravage your sensitive depths, driven by the pleasure you were providing her, her hips pistoning with renewed fervor.

Finally, she let out a loud grunt, her whole body stiffening as an intense orgasm wracked her frame. You felt her seed bursting inside you, hot and thick, coating your inner walls as she collapsed on top of you, still pulsating deep within.

You bit your lip, feeling so full and exhausted. You took a deep breath, mustering all the energy you had left. "...love you..." you whispered, your voice so small it was barely audible. But Jingliu heard it, her whole body twitching inside you, her softening cock coming back to life at the sound of your voice.

She pulled back, a hearty chuckle escaping her lips and making you lift your head up to look at her over your shoulder, "Ah, there you go. You made me wait so long." She leaned in, kissing your lips hungrily, her tongue dancing with yours deliciously. She nipped at your lower lip, enjoying your soft whimpers.

Jingliu pulled away from you, looking at you with a mix of love and longing in her eyes. She carefully pulled out, your sore entrance oozing with a mix of your fluids. "I love you... I love you so much." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Her tone turned cold for a moment as she pressed her hand against your head, holding it down firmly. "You're not going to fly away from me anymore, right?" she asked, her voice edged with a hint of warning. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a nervous tension settling in your belly.

Suddenly, an intense coldness washed over you, a sudden chill that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. You couldn't look back, though - Jingliu was pressing your head against the mattress with such force that it hurt. You couldn't move, couldn't even twitch...

Jingliu's voice held a hint of cold cruelty, her words sending shivers down your spine. "You don't need these wings anymore..." she whispered, her breath tickling the back of your neck. You panicked, realizing what she was about to do. Your wings - your source of power, your connection to your past - were about to be taken from you.

But your body was too sore, too exhausted to even move. You couldn't fight back as she gently caressed your wings goodbye. Then, suddenly, you felt the cold, sharp prick against your skin. A scream tore from your throat as she began to slice away at your wings, feathers fell everywhere, dancing in the air like snowflakes. Every swing of her sword sent fresh waves of pain coursing through your body, making you grip the sheets tightly, pushing your face into the soft fabric of the mattress.

The agony seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the cutting stopped. You lay there, panting heavily, feeling the weight of your loss settling into your bones.

You lay there, looking lifeless, your eyes blank as your trembling body dripped with sweat and tears. You couldn't help but stare at the feathers scattered across the bed, your mouth hanging open with drool dripping down your chin. Jingliu approached you carefully, her voice soft and soothing, "Shh, shh. I'm here." She gently wiped away your tears and drool, lifting you up in her arms. "It's okay now..." she cooed, as if she weren't the reason for your pain.

When you woke up, you couldn't remember much; the bed had been cleaned, not a single trace of feathers remained anywhere. You glanced at your body, covered in bandages. "Finally awake..." Jingliu approached you with a gentle smile, her once-scary red eyes now seemed very comforting. "Mhm..." you replied with a faint smile, and Jingliu moved closer to kiss your forehead.

Despite feeling pain all over your body, there's also a sense of lightness, as if a burden had been lifted off your shoulders. Remembering every detail of that night— the pain, the screams, and the slow loss of your wings—you still find it difficult to be upset with Jingliu for what she did.

Jingliu diligently tended to your wounds until they healed completely, as though you had never possessed wings. However, whenever she has to leave, she still chained you to the bed, yet made an effort to return swiftly, bringing whatever you desired. Over time, you grew accustomed to the sight and scent of blood on her body whenever she came home to you.

You ceased attempting to escape from her, finding solace in the memory of your wings. Uncertain if they would ever grow back, you realized that even if they did, you would willingly let Jingliu cut them off once more if she desired. After all, you've come to accept that she's the only one you have and the only one you need.

#inou works #jingliu smut #jingliu x reader #jingliu hsr #hsr smut #inou dark content #yandere jingliu

[nerdpoe]

I have lots of ideas for prompts. LOTS OF IDEAS.

Like John Constantine dragging Jack and Maddie by the ear into the infinite realms to personally apologize to the High King of it for literal war crimes.

Meanwhile Danny is panicking, cuz he works regularly with the League ever since Tucker found out Vlad was what was stopping them from receiving any of Amity's distress signals and bricked literally all of the stalkers electronics, and they just hashed out a working relationship, and he Does Not Want them to find out he's the King. What if Wonderwoman and Aquaman try to talk to him about politics?! He doesn't actually know what he's doing he just managed to appear competent!

So his first true edict as King, the first thing he does using all of his powers at his disposal to forcibly order Ghosts what to do, is to pretend that Skulker is the High King. He looks intimidating, right?

Skulker despises every second of it. He hates lying about a conquest, it makes him testy and irritable.

His irritability makes John be like "I was right the King is terrifying fuck".

The other Ghosts are just avoiding it, desperately pretending that they can't see Skulker.

Johnny and Kitty keep breaking down into laughter and are deliberately watching from the side lines, having come to watch the spectacle.

Phantom is crying inside watching Skulker try to pretend like he's courtly. Wonderwoman and Aquaman suspect that something is going on but the cultures in the Infinite realms are so different they don't know For Sure. Batman figured it out pretty much the second they met Skulker and is just. Staring. At Danny.

Judging him.

Quietly.

#dp x dc #Danny phantom #Danny Fenton #Skulker #Batman #Wonderwoman #Aquaman #John Constantine #jack fenton #Maddie Fenton #story prompt

[foone]

I'm surprised there's not more supernatural spaceship media. Like, your average little cargo ship is jumping around the outer rim trying to cut some time off their delivery route and they pick up a distress call, so they have to answer it.

(under a readmore cause this got a little longer than I expected)

They warp in to the approximate coordinates and there's a colony ship orbiting a gas giant, stuck in the shadow of it, basically frozen over. It's centuries old, but these sleeper ships from the pre-ftl era were built to last, so it's still broadcasting the SOS. It's not responding to radio, so they need to board it.

Normally this'd just involve turning off the SOS. The ship is clearly dead and not responding to any hails, the crew must be long gone and the reactor is just keeping the SOS going. But this is a sleeper ship, so it's possible there's just no one awake. Stuck in longsleep for god knows how many decades, waiting for someone to stumble on their signal...

So they board it, activate the computer, and it tells them that everyone is dead. The ship launched, and over the 358 years it's been traveling for, every single cryo chamber has been either opened or never had any lifesigns in it in the first place. The last event logged on the computer is 136 years ago, when the acting captain set the ship to orbit this gas giant, and turn on the distress signal. Since then, nothing.

But there's still power on the bridge. There may be something there. So they climb up the decks, passing the grim sight of endless rows of cryochambers lined up like tombstones, all showing red lights of lifesign failure. As they get closer to the bridge, the time of deaths get later. The ones on the first deck were close to the launch date, and the ones near the bridge are nearer to that 136 year ago deadline.

This wasn't a hardware failure. Something killed all these people, one by one, over 220 years.

They get to the bridge. The computers are all powered down, but the power management system is still active. Two of the decks still have their cryochambers powered, but it's the ones that were supposed to be empty. There's no lifesigns in them, so the little computer in the power diagnostic system has been recommending they be turned off to save on energy. Naturally it's been recommending that for three and a half centuries. One of the crew members almost absent-mindedly agrees to the prompt, and those cryochambers deactivate. They were empty anyway, right? The sound of humming from the bridge mostly fades away, as a few hundred cryopods on the deck below power down.

The boarding crew powers off the SOS beacon. They'll alert the authorities to the ship's location when they get to a port, surely someone wants to investigate what went wrong here, or at least do an archeological study. This place is beyond an antique at this point... Wait. What's that?

The power computer says there's still one active power draw, about 1.2 kilowatts, in the captain's quarters. That's too much for a personal computer, but just about right for a single cryo pod. Maybe the captain or someone is still alive? That pod isn't on the network, so they can't see the lifesigns from here.

They head over, and the bulkhead door is still cracked open, with a thick cable running in through the gap in the door. Whoever wired this up clearly didn't have time to correctly reroute the power systems, they just lugged a cryo pod in here and basically ran an extension cord to a nearby terminal.

They pry open the door, and there's a softly glowing cryo pod in the middle of the surprisingly spacious room. It makes some amount of sense, generally on these ships the captain would be the one who has to wake up and deal with any situations that arise, while the rest of the colonists are content to sleep until they reach their new home.

They look in the pod, and there's a man lying there. He's not the captain, though. They saw his photo on the bridge. This is someone else. Some one quite pale and gaunt. Maybe they were suffering malnutrition before they put themselves in the pod?

The pod is softly beeping. It's reactivating, apparently triggered when they opened the door. The pod shows no lifesigns, so it's not worth worrying about, the panel sliding over to reveal merely a well preserved corpse.

And then he smiles. "I'm so glad to see you! When we ran out of food we we're afraid we'd never see another human again. And even through those environment suits, I can tell you're so deliciously human." he licks his lips, and the boarding crew spots his prominent canines.

There's a noise halfway between a howl and a shriek from the floor below. The man in the cryopod leans up his head. "ahh, I see you've woken up my children as well. Marvelous. I hope you brought plenty of friends for us to snack on."

The head of the boarding party lifts her arm to call their ship, tell them to get out of there or drop a torpedo into the colony ship's reactor. Before she can bring it to her face to call, there's a flash of motion. Before she can even realize what's happening, the man(?) in the cryopod is up and holding her wrist away from her face.

As she cries out at the sudden pain, the other members of the boarding party spot movement down the hall. A lot of movement. A wall of thin pale people are running towards the captain's quarters, climbing over each other and pushing each other aside, like a pack of wild wolves who just smelled prey.

The boarding party steps back into the room and slams the emergency close. At least in here they only have to deal with one of those things.

The door hits the cable and bounces off with a loud alarm. It fully opens again, ready to let the hungry mass in.

So... Have you ever noticed how much a cryopod looks like a coffin?

#my writing

[sanguineterrain]

For the drabbles!!

Can you walk? I need you to walk for me! With Dick, if that sounds interesting to you!!

Loved the Drabble you posted, you’re a talented writer!

thanks very much nonnie 🥺❤️ wanted to switch it up and whump dickie boy >:)

"can you walk? i need you to walk." - dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: injured dick, bullet wound, reader tasers a bad guy. dick's not dead i prommy!! Loosely based on the Nightwing 2021 comics.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

You wake up to the beeping of the distress signal. Instantly, you're awake, fumbling for the comm bud to put in your ear.

"—in, do you copy? Nightwing needs help, he's—"

"Where is he, Babs?" you ask, flinging the sheet off of your legs and jumping into your suit.

"Blüdhaven City Hall."

"What the hell? Alone?"

Barbara sighs. "Yes. I didn't know until the mayor texted."

Anger flares. You tamp it down because Barbara hasn't done anything wrong, and it's not fair to snap at her for Dick's stupid choices.

Besides, the anger is only to mask the chilling fear that bubbles up.

You stick to the rooftops like Dick himself had taught you when you were first getting the hang of the vigilante thing. You're more like Barbara in that you prefer to stay on the sidelines and help.

But if Dick is in trouble, you're there.

Your heart pounds; you can barely hear the instructions Barbara's giving you as you approach City Hall.

"Is he conscious?" you ask, interrupting her.

She doesn't answer at first.

"Oracle," you press, gritting your teeth as you descend down the roof access stairs. "Is he awake?"

"I don't know. I lost his comm link."

The fear sharpens. Your heart beats so fast, you're afraid you might collapse.

"He's alive, though. His suit vitals are still elevated."

You run faster, flying down the stairwell. It takes some searching to find Dick since his mask camera is also destroyed, according to Barbara. But you manage to track him down relatively fast.

Dick is bound to a chair, puddles of blood at his feet. You rush over and pull at the knots without thinking, growing frustrated when they don't turn loose.

"Blade on your left side."

You startle hard at Dick's voice. He lifts his head slowly and you stifle a gasp at his face. One of the lenses of his mask is cracked. His cheek is bloody and nearly black with bruises. His suit is torn and dirty.

They'd left him for dead.

"I found him, Babs."

You hear her sigh of relief. She starts to organize your exit route. You're only half listening as you slice through the ropes with the blade you forgot you had in your left pocket.

Dick's arms hang at his sides even after you free them. They'd done a number on him.

He watches you as you free his legs next.

"Suit looks good on you," he says, head lolling. "Peak design, if y'ask me."

"You're so stupid," you say, bowing your head so he can't see the tears that sting your eyes. "This was an idiotic thing you did, Dick."

"Alias names only in the field," he reminds you.

You yank the rope harder than you mean to and free his legs.

Dick has to use his whole body to push himself off of the chair. Even so, he stumbles, and you rush to catch him. Your heart jumps to your throat. Of course he'd hide how bad his injuries are.

"Oracle, call Batman."

"No," Dick grits, shaking his head. "Don't call him."

"You can barely move. I can't carry you myself."

You wish you could. As furious as you are, you'd carry him home.

"Am I calling him?" Barbara asks in your ear.

A door slams somewhere upstairs. Cold sweat erupts all over your body. Dick looks at you, and you know he heard it too.

"Guys, am I calling Batman or not?"

"No, we can do it," you say against your better judgment. "Can you move?"

Dick nods rapidly, though you don't totally believe him. You sling an arm under his arm, then wrap your other arm around his waist. He puts nearly all of his weight on you, though you can tell he's using what little strength he has left to try and shift his weight.

The two of you go like that, Dick half limping. You try not to think about how his blood stains your suit.

You move slowly, which unfortunately means that the goon upstairs catches up to you. He pulls out a gun, and Dick shoves you aside before you can advance. He pays the price for it when the goon shoots his leg.

Dick screams.

Quick as Flash, you grab an escrima stick and charge the taser to two thousand volts. Then you ram it into the goon's gut.

He drops like a sack of potatoes. You don't check if he's breathing.

"We don't kill," Dick says as you return the stick to his back holster.

You harshly cut the goon's shirt with your blade and tourniquet Dick's bullet wound. He hisses in pain.

"I didn't kill him," you snap.

"You could've. What the hell was that?"

"That was me stopping him before he blew your brains out!" you shout. "That was me making sure the commissioner doesn't have to fish your body out of the river!"

Dick's head thumps against the wall. His suit is slick with blood. "That wouldn't have happened."

"You could've died tonight, Dick! Why can't you get that through your head?"

His eyes close for too long on the next blink. You kneel in front of him immediately, shaking his shoulder. He grunts.

"Dick, no. Wake up. Don't do this, you gotta stay awake for me."

"'M awake," he says groggily. "I'm..."

"Oracle," you say, panicked. "Vitals."

"His heart rate is sluggish; he's lost a lot of blood. You have to—"

"Dick," you say, shaking his shoulder again. "Dickie, you gotta get up. Can you walk? I need you to walk for me."

"'Kay," he whispers, barely lifting his arm.

"Okay, I've got you. Ready? One, two—"

You lift him and stagger under his full weight.

"Sorry," he murmurs, and you feel sick.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry. Stay awake, okay?"

He hums. You manage to establish a decent gait between the two of you. Dick stumbles along, trying his best to walk independently.

You're almost out of City Hall when Dick collapses. This time, he doesn't get up.

"No, no. Wake up, Dick, wake up. Come on, come on!"

You shake him as hard as you'll let yourself. Dick doesn't stir.

"There's so much blood," you say, your hands sticky with it. "B-Babs..."

"I'm sending help right now. B's on his way, okay?" She sounds just as wrecked as you feel. "Just hold on."

You cradle Dick's head and suck in gasping breaths, keeping pressure on his thigh.

That's how Batman finds you, shaking and hunched over his son.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing imagines #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Spark of Hope

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Request -  @narcissa-of-kaas - Hey there! Could you please do something with Tech for #39 from your prompt list ?💜

Prompt - “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” (Set post season 2, pre season 3)

You couldn’t even say how much time had passed since that Force forsaken day. It had been months at best and yet somehow it felt more like years. You had never been able to adjust to a life without Tech, how could you? It was impossible to believe that there had ever been a time where you hadn’t had Tech in your life, hadn’t had him ready at your side rattling facts of, filling silences with knowledge or just sitting together as he tinkered away. Whenever you needed somebody, it was always Tech you turned to.

Then all of a sudden Tech was gone. 

You still remembered the day, still remembered watching him fall from the cart, still remembered the heart wrenching scream that escaped you as you could do nothing but watch, only Hunter kept you where you were, stopping you from following after Tech, dragging you against his chest and forcing you to stay on the cart as it sped away from Tech. 

You had no memory of leaving, everything since then had passed in a blur and you were certain it was only thanks to Hunter you had managed to make it back to safety.

A day hadn’t passed where you let yourself believe Tech was dead. You couldn’t ever let yourself believe that, the second you did you knew you’d be done. You had to force yourself to keep that small spark of hope that seemed to dim as each day went by. 

You spent your days sat on the comm, pleading for hours for Tech to answer you, pleading with him to come back home, to come back to you. Hunter and Wrecker watched on with aching hearts as you refused to be moved, refused to let yourself accept reality.

The loss of Tech was only worsened by the loss of Omega, then Echo left to go help Rex, unable to stand being on the Marauder. You didn’t blame him, some days being on the ship drove you crazy, there were too many memories, too many constant reminders of those that should have been here but weren’t. Some days you couldn’t drag yourself out of bed, the smell of Tech on the sheets lessened with each day he was gone but you had to believe he’d be back one day.

Months had passed since that day and you were startled all of a sudden when the comm came to life, a distress signal that was used by the Batch could be heard. Hunter watched your face fill with relief, with hope. It broke his heart but still it was a code they used, they had to check it out.

You were relieved beyond words to see that Omega and Crosshair were safe and alive and yet you were disappointed. You hated to even admit it to yourself, hated the fact that when you saw the pair your heart dropped because it wasn’t Tech.

It was meant to be Tech.

Nobody blamed you for withdrawing after that, they knew you wanted Tech back. You had felt the spark of hope you had fizzle out, desperately wanting to stay alight but you didn’t know how to keep believing, didn’t know how to carry on without Tech.

It seemed that even though things had gotten better, two members of the Batch were back where they belonged, it was never right. There was constantly an empty space in every room of the Marauder, a silence after somebody said something where you still waited for Tech to talk, there were no longer random projects left out for you to fall over, it wasn’t home without Tech.

You still sat at the comm but your heart was empty as you spoke, you would give anything for a reply. 

Then one day it came. 

A strange message that consisted of nothing more than a set of coordinates and a cryptic message of ‘pl45’. Suddenly that spark of hope that had gone out weeks ago was back with a mighty flame, pushing out all the darkness and you just knew, it had to be him.

“Hunter!” You called, looking at the coordinates and the message, Plan 45, it was definitely a code the Batch used.

Hunter frowned as he looked at the message, Plan 45 meant mission gone wrong. It was their code, a random one to use but still their code. He wasn’t sure about it, one look at your face and he knew you had gotten your hopes up, he hated that you were going to be left more broken than before, he wasn’t sure you’d recover from this one.

“Y/N,” Hunter sighed softly but you were already shaking your head at him, standing from your seat and pushing past him into the cockpit. “Hey, I want it to be him too!”

“Then let’s go!” You snapped at Hunter, immediately feeling bad. You knew that whilst you hadn’t been coping well with the loss of Tech, without Hunter you probably would have completely lost it months ago. He truly had been your saving grace. “I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s Tech, I know it is.”

Hunter looked at you, his face contorted with sympathy but eventually he nodded, taking a seat in the cockpit as you typed in the coordinates. He didn’t say anything but that was just what you needed, to have Hunter by your side as you went to find Tech.

It had to be Tech.

It had to be.

It took two days to land on the planet the coordinates led to, a planet you didn’t know the name of and was so far off the map. You were sure Tech would have a fact or two about it if he were here.

You had sat on the comm, watching it, willing it to come alive with another message but nothing more came through. 

The ship finally landed and you were the first off it, eyes scanning the forest around you, looking for any sign of Tech. The others followed you out of the Marauder, each of them looking around and seeing nothing, knowing it was going to be bad for you when you came to another dead end.

It was Hunter who heard him first, a crunch and snap of twigs under a boot alerted him and he let out a small gasp, feeling Crosshair and Wrecker look at him. 

It took a few more moments but Tech appeared from the trees and you felt your legs nearly give out as you looked at him, unable to move. 

“Y/N.” Tech breathed out and that was all you needed to force your feet forward, practically falling into his chest and Tech didn’t care how sore his body was he still wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“You got my message.” He whispered into your hair and you laughed though the noise sounded more like a sob as silent tears made their way down your cheeks.

Tech felt his own eyes well up but he managed to keep the tears contained as he looked past you to his brothers, though a few tears did manage to trickle out as he saw Crosshair looking back at him.

Eventually you managed to pull away and Tech brought his hand to your cheek, brushing away your tears before he leant his forehead against yours.

“I knew you were alive.” You told him, your voice barely audible as you tried to hold back more tears. “I knew you were.”

Tech leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours and you couldn’t stop more tears from falling as you kissed him back, savouring the feeling after doubting if you would ever feel this again. 

You never strayed far from Tech when the two of you eventually pulled away and he was embraced by his brothers, each of their eyes watery and a few of their cheeks wet where tears had fallen. 

Eventually you all made your way back into the Marauder and Tech excused himself for a much needed sonic. You were reluctant to let him go but watched him leave, assuring yourself he was back.

“I told you.” You said softly as Hunter came to sit next to you. “I told you he was alive.”

Hunter pulled you against his chest, his arm going around your shoulder as he placed a soft kiss to your head.

“He’s alive.” Hunter murmured against your hair, still trying to wrap his mind around it himself.

By the time Tech had left the fresher Hunter had gotten the ship into hyperspace and everyone was sat together. Tech immediately made his way over to you, not wasting any time in pulling you close to him, your hand finding his as the others spoke softly, your thumb stroking over his knuckles in a constant reminder that he was there.

The six of you sat there for hours, Tech filled you in on what had happened since his fall, Omega had excitedly told Tech about her and Crosshair’s daring escape and the rest of the night was spent reliving old memories until you were all yawning.

None of you wanted to pull yourselves out of that moment but the need for sleep was too much and you forced yourselves up and into bed. 

You were happy to go to bed though when Tech climbed in after you and pulled you close, the sound of his steady breathing was enough to lull you into an easy sleep, something that you hadn’t been able to do for months, your eyes falling closed feeling warm and overwhelmingly relieved.

It wasn’t until you gasped awake, shivering at the cold air that you knew something wasn’t right. You looked around and felt your heart sink as you realised you were on a cart, Storm Troopers shooting at you from across the way. It wasn’t until you saw Tech running across the rail line that you felt panic build up.

“No.” You whispered to yourself, Omega looking up at you in confusion. “No, he’s alive. I got him back.”

“Um, Hunter, something’s wrong with Y/N.” You heard Omega say but you didn’t pay attention to Hunter calling your name, instead keeping your eyes locked on Tech like your gaze alone could change everything.

“We’ve got three ships inbound.” Hunter said, dragging his gaze from you and back onto the fight.

You shook your head, how many times had you been forced to relive this day? How many times had you been forced to lose Tech? You thought you had him back, you had him back. Was that just a dream, a way to cope with him being gone?

Power came rushing back to the cart, snapping you back to reality and your eyes filled with tears as you watched Tech running back towards the cart, trying to outrun the blaster shots aimed at him.

You could only watch through blurry tear filled eyes as Tech fell from the rail line onto a falling cart, watching as he just about managed to secure himself with his grappling line but there was nowhere for him to go, the cart was falling faster than he could climb.

“Wrecker, get him on board.” Hunter commanded, though the command was filled with underlying worry.

You let out a choked sob, knowing that command wouldn’t be carried out. 

“You must sever the connecting hinge. Now!” Tech instructed and you shook your head madly.

“Tech.” You managed to choke out. “Please.”

“Y/N,” You heard Tech sigh and your name falling from his lips had more sobs escaping you. “I’m sorry, my love.” 

You watched as he pulled his blaster out and knew what was to come.

“Plan 99.” He said and you screamed as he fired his blaster, only able to watch as he fell, seconds away from blinding following after him only to have Hunter snatch you away from the edge, holding you tightly against his chest as you thrashed madly against him, unsure of what you could do if you managed to get out of his hold but the only thought in your mind was that you wanted Tech.

He couldn’t be dead.

You shot up with a gasp, silent tears falling down your face and sweat clinging to your body as you looked around, assuring yourself you were in the Marauder. Your heart hammered in your chest when you realised you were alone.

Had Tech ever been back?

You forced your body out of bed, of course he was back, he had to be.

Your feet silently carried you through the Marauder, only stopping when you got to the cockpit and you felt a sob escape you when you saw Tech in the pilot’s seat, looking out of the window as you flew through hyperspace.

The noise had Tech turning to face you with a worried look.

“What happened, my love?” The pet name had your mind flashing back to the last thing he said to you but you shook your head, wiping the tears away as best you could.

“I had a nightmare about you,” You told him, watching as his face softened and he made room for you on the chair. “And I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay, dear.” He assured you as you sat in the chair, his arm wrapping around you as he held you close, guiding your head to his chest so you could feel his heart beat loud and clear. “I’m alive.”

The words were a reassurance to the both of you as you sat there holding each other in silence whilst you passed through hyperspace, Tech was here. 

He was alive and he was going nowhere. 

____

Tech Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!)

@ughhhhfoff, @kashasenpai, @venuskywaker, @bobaprint, @starstruckfluff, @solstraalaa

Thank you so much for reading!❤️

#tech x reader #tech #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #the bad batch #tbb #tech x imagine #tech imagines #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech imagine #tbb tech imagines #the bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch tech imagines #the bad batch tech imagine #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch imagines #the bad batch imagine #tbb imagine #tbb imagines

[oneforthemunny]

an angel's kiss in spring |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: the mafia!eddie fluff you all wanted is here.

contains: fluff lol. just pure fluff. some mafia themes but really just super sweet fluff.

"Eddie!"

He shouldn't have jumped the way he did, startled and gripping the glock on his hip, fingers wrapping around the piece. Lucifer growled at the jostled movement of his master, ears perking and turning towards you.

It wasn't a distressed call by any means, more excited than anything, but Eddie still found himself on edge. Far too consumed in his own anxieties and fears, years of stacked skeletons in his closet did that to him. He knew it was silly to look for threats here. It was a farmer's market in the shit hole middle of nowhere, a thirty minute haul out to the boonies. He didn't conduct business here; hell, he was convinced that the only business done out here was this farmer's market. Yet, he still was ready. Guard up and on alert so at any moment, he was ready; he had to be.

You hadn't seemed to notice his distress, Hades' leash in your hand while you stepped closer to the small vendor. Eddie pushed his band tee back down, covering the holster, eyes scanning the area. His curls were frizzing with every passing second in the muggy, hot air of the summer. He felt out of place, out in jeans and Reeboks instead of his usual work attire.

"What'd ya find, baby?" Eddie pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of your nose, free hand skating over your back gently.

"Look," You grinned, holding up the small plastic bag. "They're dog treats."

Diablo's ears perked at the use of his favorite word, sitting at attention with his brothers, eyes trained on you. Eddie clicked his tongue, a signal to relax. "That's nice."

"It's banana, peanut butter, and oats- and oh! These have pumpkin! Vecna loved the pumpkin bread I made-"

"-That you weren't supposed to give him." Eddie gave you a stern look that bore through the tinted lenses of his frames.

You blushed, thighs twitching at his tone. "Well, he loved it." You chirped, swiping a bag. "I'll get him these, and... oh, there's bacon ones? Oh, they will all love those. Look, honey, they're all home made. Isn't that so cute?" You gushed.

Eddie nodded at the older woman, who beamed at your compliments. "Very cool." Eddie gave a half smile, already reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

"I got it." You pushed his hand away, reaching into your bag.

Eddie paused, blinking behind his glasses before scoffing. "C'mon," He rolled his eyes, passing a fifty towards the woman. "You lost your mind?"

You smirked, huffing at him with feigned annoyance. The woman cut her eyes up to you two, warm and kind. "You two are very sweet. Have you been together long?"

You grinned. "Almost two years." You hugged his waist tightly.

Eddie let himself melt into you. There was no need for the frigid exterior here. No one knew who he was, this woman certainly didn't or her hands would be trembling when she handed him the bag. "Keep the change." Eddie nodded towards her when she went to her little change box.

She blinked at him, mouth rounding in surprise to match her eyes. "Sir, that's-"

Eddie waved her off. "Have a great day." He smirked, taking the paper bag for you, his free hand still on your waist.

"That was very sweet." You smiled up at him. "Probably made her whole day."

Eddie blushed, lips pressing together to hold back his own smile. He beamed in your praise, wanted to drown himself in it. "'s nothing, really. Just thirty bucks."

"Yeah, but that's thirty bucks to her. Might mean something different than to you." You tilted your head at him.

He nodded easily. "Hope it does. She made you happy. She deserved it."

It was your turn to blush, hiding your face gently in his chest, walking through the gravelly dirt. Eddie let you pile up your bag with fresh vegetables, fruits, jams. You liked coming here. You insisted "fresh produce" was better than the stuff at the store, and he'd believe you. Of course, he would. He'd believe anything you told him.

"You're sweet, you know that?" Your tone is love drunk, dazed and warm, blinking up at him. The sun illuminating his curls, the hints of those walnut flecks through his hair shining with sunshine.

Eddie grinned, dimples deep in his own cheeks, pulling you closer to his side. "Yeah? Don't tell anyone." He muttered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Don't blow my cover. Got a reputation to uphold."

You snorted, shaking you head lightly. "Think you've gone soft since you've been hanging around me, Munson."

"Sure." Eddie rolled his eyes. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, kitten. I can show you how mean I am if you keep teasing me." He growled lowly, the hand on your hip sliding down to the fatty flesh of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze that had your shrilling in giggles.

The dogs turned, glaring and snarling at Eddie at your distress sound. He clicked his teeth, louder this time, and they fell back into line. Normally, he'd be mad at their disobedience, but he couldn't blame them for looking out for you. Made him proud that they wanted to protect you. That they loved you.

"You've ruined them." Eddie shook his head at you, watching you scratch Diablo's head with a coo. "Spoiled them rotten."

"Whatever. They deserve it, don't you? Yes, you do my little precious baby boys! You deserve it!" You cooed at them in a high pitched voice that had them wagging their tails, jumping and panting to get closer to you.

Eddie opened the door, unclipping their leashes, whistling for them to pile in. You slid into the passenger seat, grinning back at the boys, panting and scrambling around in the back. "Put the windows down for them, please." You asked, setting your produce below your feet.

Eddie obliged, one hand putting the car in reverse while the windows lowered, hand pulling out of the spot expertly. His hand found your thigh easily, cupping it gently, lips curling at the way you flushed, wrapping around his arm and kissing his elbow sweetly.

You giggled, watching Diablo and Vecna in the window, wagging tongues out in the wind, ears blowing in the breeze. "Look at them, baby." You leaned your head against his, looking out the side mirror. "They're just the cutest."

Eddie smirked, looking over at you. "Not as cure as you, honey." He muttered, squeezing your thigh so you'd squeal. Like clockwork, you did.

You rolled your eyes, propping your chin on his veiny forearms to look at him. "That was cheesy." You sighed, kissing the hem of his shirt.

Eddie flushed, tingling under your kiss. He wanted to reach over, pull the car over and kiss you all sloppy and sweet, press you up against the seat and make out with you until his lips were numb. Until you were clawing at his back and whining in his ear. Normally, he would, but with the dogs, that would be a challenge.

So he grabbed your hand instead, bringing your knuckles to his lips, kissing each one with a gentle softness that had you blushing. "How about that?" Eddie muttered, winking at you. "That cheesy too?"

"A little." You giggled, tightening your hug around his bicep. "'s alright. I liked it. Like it when you get all cheesy and cliche-y on me. It's sweet."

Eddie snorted lightly, looking at Lucifer biting the air out side of the window. "Not many people would describe me as sweet."

You shrugged. "Not many people know you like I do." You said simply. "You're pretty sweet, Munson. The sweetest person I know."

Eddie didn't reply, his hand squeezing yours affectionately instead, but you saw the bob of his throat. You saw the way his jaw flexed, not angry but more emotional. You knew he wouldn't ever say it, couldn't say it, but it meant a lot to him that you saw him that was. Soft and sweet... kind even. For you? He would be.

How could he not?

When you smothered him in kisses and sweet words. When you loved him so unconditionally, without limits or consequences. He trusted you, loved you, would do anything for you.

It's why he drove an hour and a half out to the middle of no where for you. To a Farmer's Market when he could go to Melvald's and get most of this. You wanted to go here, it made you happy, so he took you. The smile on your face when you got something new and fun, like the treats for the dogs, oh, it made it all worth it.

Eddie loved when you'd get home, cutting up the fruit and mixing it in a large bowl, scooping out some for him. It reminded him of his mother, how she'd always bring him some when he was upset, her silent way of showing love and care for him.

He loved spending time with you, in the garden, throwing a slobbery tennis ball to the dogs that clambered over each other to get it and bring it back to you. You sat in the grass with him, snuggled into him even in the heat. He didn't mind. Just happy to be with you, feel normal and peaceful in these moments with you.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #mafia!eddie munson #mafia au #mafia!eddie munson x reader #mafia!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds. 

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss. 

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.  

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you. 

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter bad batch #fluff #soft smut #friends to lovers

[thegildedbee]

Box: May 2 Prompt from @calaisreno

“You wished to see me,” Mycroft says, looking not at John, but down at his own left hand, where his thumb is rubbing across the fingers curled into his palm, making clear that the sentiment is not returned.

“No,” John replies, impassively.

“And yet,” says Mycroft, making a sweeping gesture with his right arm, ending with a careless flick of his hand in John’s direction, “here you are.”

“Well-spotted. There’s that famous Holmes intellect at work.” John shrugs his shoulders with eloquent disdain. “Needs must when so many devils are doing the driving.”

Mycroft lifts the corners of his mouth in an insult of a smile.

Each man looks the other in the eye, unblinking, the hands of the three-tiered gilded clock on the mantel the only moving objects in the room. After a moment it is quarter past the hour, and the timepiece – which John would have been unsurprised to learn had belonged to a Qing dynasty emperor, were its current owner to share the information – softly chimes.

John leans forward, pressing his fingers into the edge of the massive Victorian partners desk behind which Mycroft sits.

“Sherlock is not dead.”

Mycroft slowly shakes his head. “Not so, Dr. Watson. Are you telling me that you do not believe the evidence of your own eyes and hands at the physical damage sustained by Sherlock's body?”

“And yet there is evidence otherwise," John counters.

“I do hope for your sake that you have shared your thoughts with your therapist or another medical professional, so that you can receive the care that you so clearly need.”

“Petty taunts, Mycroft. No need to unsheath the rapier if there’s no danger in sight.”

“I am a busy man. Do get to the purpose of your visit so that it can be concluded. That is, if there is a purpose, beyond letting time pass as you sit here engaging in fantasy?”

John sits back, and nods. “Very well. I want to be assigned to help protect Sherlock as he engages Moriarty’s network.”

Mycroft scoffs. “Were that even true, there would be no reason for me to acquiesce to such a request.”

“To prevent the release of the evidence I have to the contrary. And it's not a request. It is a demand."

Mycroft arranges his features into a simulcram of pleasantness. “And what evidence would that be?”

“I have no desire to reveal my hand on that score just yet. Not until I hear the word 'yes'.”

Mycroft purses his lips and picks up a fountain pen and points it at John's chest. “It would be unwise to engage in threats, Dr. Watson. I can press a button and have you detained in an instant, therefore placing any mythical information under lock and key as well.”

John snorts. “Not my first rodeo, Mycroft. If I don’t give a particular signal three hours from now, the evidence will be released to the press. From multiple sources.”

In a deliberate motion, Mycroft inserts the pen into a repurposed bronze inkwell. “And what if, in releasing this alleged information in a misguided attempt to soothe your distress, you should increase any danger to Sherlock, and the effect would be to cause him harm? What then, doctor?”

“With all due respect, Mycroft . . . if Sherlock is dead," John smiles, "then the release of my information will have absolutely no effect at all. None whatsoever."

“Do not box me in, doctor. You will regret it.”

“Oh, I have regrets, but that is not one that will be added to the list.” John narrows his eyes at the man opposite, and then says briskly, “Time to demonstrate your diplomatic skills, Mycroft -- time to negotiate. Chop chop. End of story.”

......................................................... @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl .........................................................

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

[wondersinwaynemanor]

Wondermom and young Jason prompt

one of the favorite things young Jason loved about being Robin was visiting the Watchtower with Batman. Jason loved being up there as it gave him the sense of flight, seeing stars and different aircrafts on the sky. so close; he swore he could touch them.

but what struck him the most was when he first met Wonder Woman. she's the most beautiful and captivating and strongest ; the literal perfect hero Jason has ever seen. when Wonder Woman flew to the cafeteria, giving Jason a soft smile with her comforting voice, he was blushing hard that he wanted to hide under Batman's cape. Jason was eating cereal and Wonder Woman wiped a few crumbs on his mouth. she called him "little prince" and asked him what's it like being Robin. he remembered she sat close to Batman, their arms brushing against each other. Jason took a mental note to ask B about that later tonight.

Wonder Woman has also saved Jason plenty of times.

one of those nights was when Jason and Bruce had an argument. Jason climbed down the window of his bedroom. he ran to the streets of Crime Alley. he thought he hated Bruce, he thought he didn't love his life at the manor, and he thought he wasn't worthy to be Robin. he smashed his distress signal and tracker, leaving Bruce clueless as to where he was.

the person who found him that night was Wonder Woman, who volunteered to help Batman. she noticed how stressed and not in his self Batman was when they had a Justice League meeting earlier.

Wonder Woman scooped Jason in her arms, finding him on an abandoned building, where he was smoking. she flew them to her apartment where she made sure he was warm.

"Diana, why did you look for me? I'm not worthy. I shouldn't even be Robin."

Diana hugged Jason and kissed his forehead, "My little prince, you are worthy. You're strong and smart, and it's sad you don't even realize it. Bruce just gets upset sometimes because he cares for you. That's what love is. It may be hard to understand at first, but you can feel it."

young Jason felt warmer than he ever did despite the cold weather outside.

from outside the window, Batman watched Diana embrace his son with an odd yet comforting and welcoming warmth on his chest.

#i had this on my drafts for so long #i live for the jason and diana interactions #jason and diana interactions blog #gonna make that a tag or sum #batfamily headcanons #wonder woman headcanon #jason todd headcanon #batfamily #batman #wonder woman #jason robin #batdad #wondermom #batfamily prompt #jason todd #diana prince #bruce wayne #dc universe #wonderbat #please jason you're such a fanboy

[ktkat99]

Reverse Robins prompt if you're looking

Batman swears he doesn't want a partner. Until he meets Damian. Talia drops him off to be raised by Bruce and, as Bruce has no other kids, the two are free to train as they pleased. Damian grows up and moves out, taking his own section of Gotham to protect under his new, adult identity.

Batman, struggling to get himself reaccustomed to working without a partner, meets Tim.

Tim knows who they are and has been following them, taking pics and copying their moves to teach himself martial arts for years.

He's seen Batman having trouble and insists that he needs a new Robin.

Him.

After protesting and trying to chase him away, Bruce finds out just how alone Tim is at home and decides to take him up on it.

Damian feels replaced and is immediately antagonistic to Tim.

He hates how happy the damn kid always is.

He hates how Bruce is spending more time training him.

He hates how Alfred has changed typical meals that Bruce liked to remove seafood, which Tim is allergic to.

When Tim asks to train with him, Damian goes far too hard on him.

When Tim sleeps over and eventually moves in, having officially been adopted, Damian wastes no opportunity to remind him who the Blood Son is, and tell Tim that he's just a stand-in. Basically cannon fodder. Bruce didn't *really* love him. He'd just needed a soldier.

Over the next few years, Tim gradually grows stronger, but also more withdrawn and depressed.

Bruce takes in Jason and Tim starts going solo on patrol, but he always makes time to train/hang out with/play with Jason, wanting to be the big brother Damian had never been to him.

And then one night Tim never returns to the cave.

There's no call.

No heads up.

No distress signal.

No one knows where he is.

No one can find him.

Damian insists Tim must have just left and openly mocks him for trying to get attention or having not had the spine to quit face to face.

Until Damian finds him three weeks later, having been captured, tortured, and turned into Joker Jr.

Damian is horrified and ends up killing the Joker to save Tim, but its too late.

Tim dies in his arms waiting for help to arrive.

They're all grieving and devastated, but no one besides Jason blames Damian for Tim's death to his face, making Damian feel even worse.

He blames himself for not helping search for Tim.

He blames himself for failing to save him.

He blames himself for being a bully, rather than a brother.

He finally has to take a break from being a vigilante and moves back to Nanda Parbat, throwing himself into his training and confessing what happened to his mother and grandfather.

When he's feeling able to resume his job again, Damian moves back to the manor and life goes on as much as it can.

They all still miss Tim.

But they're learning to live without him.

Talia and Ra's, seeing how rattled and off his game Damian was, decide to follow him back to Gotham, steal Tim's body, and see if they can revive him in a Lazarus Pit.

Tim comes back to life, but instead of returning home immediately, he watches them from a distance.

Damian has moved back home to the manor, despite having an apartment in the city.

Despite Bruce still having Jason.

Tim remembers how Damian used to treat him, all because he was adopted, and gets angry.

He becomes Red Hood, but while Jason!Red Hood's problem was that he wasn't avenged, Tim!Red Hood is more concerned with saving Jason from the abuse he had to endure from Damian.

He breaks into the manor one night as Red Hood, making sure to avoid every trap and alarm while still leaving obvious signs all over the cave and the manor, wanting to send the message 'I know you're Batman. I was in your house while you were asleep. I'm dangerous, and I know all your tricks.'

And then he goes upstairs to kidnap Jason.

Jason is overjoyed to find out Tim is alive, but right as Tim's about to take him and leave, another little kid is suddenly in the room.

Jason explains that Dick recently lost his family and Bruce took him in.

Tim knows he has to save both boys, but now is also even more caught off guard.

He'd spent so long trying to tell Damian that he was wrong, that Bruce really did love him like a son.

But the fact that he'd not only been replaced, but Bruce was still sending kids into battle, even after what happened to him was too much.

Tim tries to kidnap them both, but Dick, who's never met Tim before, gets scared and runs to Damians room for help.

Damian fights off the intruder, but then Tim's helmet falls off/Jason says his name/Damian recognizes the fighting style/he somehow finds out that he's fighting Tim and freezes, allowing him to escape.

Damian is shocked that Tim's alive and he and Bruce work to find him and bring him home.

Only, Tim doesn't want to come home.

Not when Damian is there.

Not with Bruce and Alfred, who never did enough to protect him.

But...

He finally accepts, solely to protect Jason and Dick.

So the family gets to work towards the second chance they never thought they'd get, Tim gets a family who loves him, and Jason and Dick get a very protective older brother.

#batman #tim drake #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #reverse robins #nightwing #robin #red robin #red hood #prompt #writing prompts #feel free to use #or just enjoy the vague story

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Maera’s initial instinct was to turn away, her dislike for Alys still lingering. But as she watched the other woman’s distress, a pang of empathy tugged at her heartstrings. With a hesitant step forward, Maera approached Alys, her uncertainty masked by a steely resolve. Though their interactions had been fraught with tension, the sight of Alys in distress stirred something within her, prompting her to set aside their differences, if only momentarily.

"Is it the babe?" Maera inquired softly, her voice laced with worry as she drew nearer to the witch.

Alys nodded, her breaths coming in shallow and labored. "I think my time is coming," she admitted between deep inhalations, her grip tightening on her belly.

Maera glanced back toward Harrenhall, weighing the distance in her mind and silently debating whether they should attempt to make their way back. "Shouldn’t we get you inside?" she suggested, her concern evident in her tone.

But Alys shook her head vehemently, dismissing the idea. "No. The pain is not coming consistently. I will be fine after a moment," she insisted, her voice determined despite the discomfort etched on her features.

Maera observed Alys's breathing through her contraction, her own memories of childbirth flooding back. She remembered the varied experiences she witnessed at Rain House, each labor unique in its intensity and duration. Some women endured the pain with stoicism, while others vocalized their agony. Maera's hand instinctively drifted to her own bump, a silent acknowledgment of the impending journey she too would soon undertake.

True to her words, Alys soon straightened up, a few settling breaths, signaling the end of her discomfort, casting a tender stroke over her bulging abdomen. "I would rather be outside, listening to the Gods. And smelling the lavender," she confessed with a serene smile. However, there was an unsettling undertone to her expression that made Maera uneasy.

A wave of apprehension crashed down on her at the thought of Aemond’s child by Alys being born. Maera was not stupid and knew the dynamics would change when another silver-haired child entered the small court within Harrenhall, with the witch no doubt using her status as mother to the Prince’s first-born child to gain influence.

Breaking the uneasy silence that followed, Maera hesitated before speaking. "What have the Gods been saying?" she asked tentatively, her curiosity mingled with apprehension.

"Many things," Alys replied casually, her gaze sweeping their surroundings once more. "I just want to ensure this is what they want."

Alys retrieved a dagger from her sleeve with a fluid motion, causing Maera to instinctively recoil, her hand protectively cradling her swollen belly. With a swift, deliberate movement, Alys sliced through her palm, a deep gash welling with blood. Maera's eyes widened in horror as she watched the crimson liquid spill from the wound, staining the ground below.

"What are you doing?!" Maera exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm and disbelief.

Alys met her gaze with an unnerving intensity, her eyes gleaming with an enigmatic resolve. "I must apologize, Princess Maera," she began, her voice carrying an unusual solemnity. "I have been wrong, on many fronts. The vision the Gods put forward to me… I do not think it will come to pass."

Maera's heart quickened with apprehension, her senses on high alert as she warily watched the witch's next move. Alys motioned for her to come closer, and despite her inner resistance, Maera found herself drawn toward the spilled blood, compelled to heed the witch's call. With hesitant steps, she approached, her gaze fixed on the crimson droplets falling from Alys's hand to the stone below.

As the blood pooled and trickled across the rough surface, Maera couldn't tear her eyes away. Each rivulet seemed to carve its own path, weaving a macabre tapestry upon the stone. A sense of foreboding settled over her, the sight of the blood's journey leaving her unsettled and apprehensive.

"Do you see how the blood makes its way through the gaps in the stones?" Alys questioned, her tone solemn yet strangely impassioned. Maera nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the crimson trail.

"It flows freely, going where it is meant to go," Alys continued, her voice carrying a sense of revelation. "But look there," she pointed, her finger tracing the path where the blood ceased to flow, halted by a cluster of obstructing stones. "There are stones in the way of this path. Therefore, the blood cannot pass through."

Maera's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind grappling with the significance of Alys's words. Glancing to the side, the Princess’s green eyes locked onto the knife in the witch’s hand, adorned with sapphires and emeralds. After a few moments, her breath caught in her throat, recognising the blade as her own, previously decorated by Aemond as a gift

Her thoughts spun wildly as she tried to make sense of the situation. How had Alys obtained the dagger? Had she been in Maera's chambers? The violation of her privacy left Maera feeling exposed and vulnerable, a sense of unease settling deep within her. There were two possible solutions; Alys had forced her way in or she had allies within the castle that allowed her entry. Either way, it filled Maera with dread.

"There are obstacles blocking the path of the Gods' vision too," the witch surmised, a small smile playing on her lips. "And they must be removed so the Prince that is promised can come to be."

Maera felt a chill run down her spine as the atmosphere shifted, the air turning cold and ominous. As the dagger glinted menacingly in the sunlight, Maera's mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions, her heart hammering in her chest with panic. Her muscles tensed, every instinct urging her to flee, to put distance between herself and the dangerous woman before her. But fear rooted her in place, her body refusing to obey her desperate plea for escape.

Swallowing hard, she managed to muster a meek question, "What obstacles?"

Alys's smile widened into a knowing grin. "You."

With a sudden, swift movement, the witch lunged forward, wielding the knife in her hand. Maera reacted instinctively, ducking to evade the attack. As she tried to push herself away from Alys, the witch seized her by the hair, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Maera.

"Get off me, you bitch!" Maera screamed, her voice filled with desperation as she fought against Alys's hold. With a surge of adrenaline, Maera managed to break free, her heart pounding with fear and determination. As Alys attempted to strike with the dagger, Maera intercepted her hand, gripping it tightly to prevent the blade from reaching her heart.

"Through the binding of a son and daughter, the King of Kings will be born, to unite and conquer the world," Alys growled, her eyes gleaming with a manic fervor as she struggled against Maera's resistance. She tilted her head, a twisted grin spreading across her face. "What a shame it is that it won't be your daughter, though. A waste of my efforts."

Maera's blood ran cold at the witch's words, her mind reeling with horror and disbelief. With all her strength, she pushed against Alys, their struggle intensifying as they grappled with each other.

"You are insane!" Maera shouted, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and outrage as she confronted the deranged witch before her.

Alys pushed Maera back against the tree, the rough bark digging into her back and stealing her breath. Maera’s heart pounded with fear as she desperately tried to fend off the dagger wielding witch. With a surge of adrenaline, she managed to grab Alys’s wrist, but her strength waned against the relentless force of her attacker.

“I am a mother. And I am ensuring the safety of my son,” Alys sneered, her face contorted with malice as she pressed the dagger dangerously close to Maera's skin. “You cannot fault me for that, surely.”

Maera gritted her teeth, her muscles straining against the pressure as she fought to keep the blade at bay. But Alys’s strength proved overwhelming, and Maera felt a searing pain as the dagger plunged into her upper left arm, piercing through muscle and bone with merciless precision.

Agony consumed Maera as she cried out in anguish, the sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced, even in the heat of sparring. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she struggled against the overwhelming pain coursing through her body.

As Alys attempted to strike again, driven by a sinister determination, Maera summoned the last vestiges of her strength. With a surge of adrenaline, she delivered a fierce headbutt to Alys's face, causing the witch to stagger backward and collapse to the ground in a stunned heap.

Despite the searing pain radiating from her arm, Maera gritted her teeth and applied pressure to the wound as she attempted to flee from her attacker. But as she sprinted past, Alys's hand shot out and seized Maera's ankle, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards onto the ground among the fragrant lavender. Desperation fueled Maera's actions as she placed her hand on her bump, her senses heightened as she scanned her surroundings for any sign of help.

Alys's bloodied face bore a twisted expression of malice as she crawled closer, her intentions unmistakably sinister. Maera's instinct for self-preservation kicked in once more as she lashed out, her foot connecting with Alys's body in a desperate bid to keep her at bay. But the witch's relentless pursuit proved unyielding as her arm descended once again, driving the dagger into Maera's upper left thigh with a sickening thud.

A cry of agony tore from Maera's lips as she writhed in excruciating pain, the sharp sting of the blade sending shockwaves of torment through her body. Each movement seemed to intensify the searing agony as she fought to protect herself and her unborn child from the malevolent intentions of her assailant.

With trembling hands, Alys withdrew the knife from Maera's thigh, sending a spray of blood across the lavender field. Maera's cries pierced the air as she watched in horror, her heart pounding with terror. Before she could comprehend the next move, Alys's gaze shifted, her eyes narrowing on Maera's swollen belly.

In a desperate surge of maternal instinct, Maera lashed out with her uninjured arm, delivering a fierce blow to Alys's face. The force sent the witch tumbling to the ground, buying Maera a precious moment of respite. Despite the searing pain radiating from her thigh, Maera attempted to stand, her screams mingling with the rustle of lavender in the breeze. Every movement was agony, but driven by sheer determination, she began to limp back towards Harrenhall.

“Someone please help me!” She yelled in desperation.

But Alys was relentless, her laughter echoing ominously, a chilling sound in the quiet clearing. “Who is coming to help, Princess?” she taunted, her voice dripping with scorn as she attempted to pick herself up off the floor, blood covering her face and dress. “Your husband is gone. Your protector is gone. Your brother-in-law is gone. There is no one to help you.”

As despair threatened to consume her, Maera found herself surrounded by the harsh sunlight, her senses overwhelmed by the scent of crushed lavender and the metallic tang of blood. Every breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat echoing her growing panic.

Then, like a beacon of hope, a familiar shadow fell over the clearing, casting a comforting darkness that offered solace amid the chaos. A loud, guttural roar followed, echoing through the air and sending shivers down Maera's spine. It was a sound she knew well, a sound that promised salvation.

With a thunderous thud, the great blue and black dragon, Ēbrion, descended upon the lavender field, his massive form dominating the landscape. His wings, spanning wide, seemed to blot out the sun, casting a cool shadow over the ground below. The sheer power and presence of the dragon were awe-inspiring, a reminder of the strength and protection he offered.

As Maera limped toward him, each step a battle against pain and exhaustion, Ēbrion lowered his head to meet her gaze. With a soft trill, he welcomed her, offering a sense of security in the midst of turmoil. The Princess reached out to touch his chest, feeling the reassuring warmth of his scales beneath her fingertips. Maera struggled to stay conscious, each breath felt like a battle against suffocating darkness. Her vision blurred, the world spinning around her in a dizzying whirl of pain and exhaustion. With every cough, she tasted the metallic tang of blood, a grim reminder of the wounds she had sustained.

Amidst the haze of agony, Maera's senses sharpened at the sound of Ēbrion's trills morphing into menacing growls. With a surge of determination, she turned her gaze to the great dragon, her loyal companion, who stood tall and imposing, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Ēbrion fixed his gaze on the figure of Alys, the witch who had dared to harm his rider, Maera watched as the air crackled with tension. Alys's eyes widened in shock, her cat-like gaze filled with fear as she met the dragon's menacing stare. In that moment, Maera realized that there was no mercy left to offer, no forgiveness to be found.

“Ēbrion!” The Princess called up to her mount, who turned his head slightly to look at her, but Maera’s gaze remained fixed onto the witch. As Alys locked eyes with her, a flicker of fear and perhaps a tiny glimmer of hope danced within the depths of the witch's gaze. But as Maera's expression hardened into one of anger and determination, Alys's facade crumbled. The hope in her eyes extinguished like a dying ember, replaced by a stark realization of her impending fate.

“Dracarys!” The dragon gladly complied, unleashing a torrent of searing flames upon Alys and the surrounding lavender field. The air crackled with the intensity of the blaze as flames danced and licked hungrily at the once serene landscape. Maera stood her ground, refusing to look away, as she watched Alys and the vibrant blooms around them succumb to the inferno.

In a matter of moments, both Alys and the tranquil field were consumed by the merciless flames, reduced to nothing more than ash and smoke. As the blaze subsided, leaving behind only charred remnants and smoldering embers, Maera’s strength wavered and she slumped onto the ground against her dragon, as the sound of shouting could be heard from a distance. She began to close her eyes, succumbing to the darkness, exhausted and weakened.

“You can rest easy, Princess. The babe is unharmed.”

In her chambers, Maera lay on her bed looking out of the window, the soft light filtering through the glass casting a gentle glow upon her weary form. Her hair, usually meticulously kept, was now a tangled mess, strands falling loosely around her shoulders in disarray. The color had drained from her face, leaving behind a pallor that spoke of the ordeal she had endured.

The room itself bore signs of the recent invasion by Alys, with scattered items lending an air of disarray to the usually neat surroundings. A sense of solemnity hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the violence that had unfolded just hours ago.

She attempted to piece together a timeline of events, her mind wandering back to the moments before she had lost consciousness in the lavender field. The memory was hazy, blurred by the fog of pain and blood loss. She vaguely recalled the sensation of Ēbrion's presence, his towering form offering both protection and solace amidst the chaos.

Footsteps approaching had signaled the arrival of the guards from Harrenhall, their presence a welcome relief in her dazed state. Surprisingly, Ēbrion had allowed them to take her from his side, as the beast must have sensed their intention to offer help.

Once back in her chambers, Maester Cain had tended to her wounds with skill and efficiency, her lack of consciousness sparing her the sight of the cauterisation and stitching. Despite the pain and the scars that would mark her body, Maera's thoughts were consumed by one concern above all others—the safety of her unborn child.

Upon regaining consciousness, her first question had been about the well-being of her baby, and the maester's reassurance had brought her a measure of peace in the midst of turmoil. As Maester Cain attended to her, Maera felt a mixture of discomfort and detachment from the light-hearted interaction.

She watched silently as the maester measured her bump and felt for the baby's movements, her thoughts consumed by the recent ordeal she had endured. When the baby kicked the maester in the face, eliciting a chuckle from him, Maera couldn't muster a smile in return.

The weight of what had happened bore heavily on her mind, casting a shadow over the momentary distraction provided by the baby's antics. Despite the assurance of her child's safety, Maera found herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. The innocent life within Alys’s womb that had been lost left her questioning her own role in the tragic outcome. She felt a profound sense of responsibility, unsure of what it meant for her identity and her place in the world. The ordeal had left her grappling with existential questions, her sense of self shaken to its core.

As Maester Cain tended to her injuries, Maera found herself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion, anger, anxiety, despair, shock, and a pervasive sense of distrust for others all vied for dominance within her. Yet amidst the cacophony of conflicting feelings, an overwhelming numbness settled over her, cocooning her in a detached state of mind.

Once the maester had finished his ministrations and Maera was made presentable, she accepted his arm for support, feeling the lingering effects of her injuries. Though her mobility would gradually return with time, the wound on her thigh would make walking difficult for the foreseeable.

Rounding the corner, Maera's gaze fell upon Lord Unwin, who swiftly rose from his chair with an air of respect, acknowledging her presence with a nod. Despite the turmoil raging within her, Maera managed to muster a sad smile in return, silently grateful for the semblance of normalcy his presence provided. Taking the seat beside him, she felt a measure of solace in his company, his quiet support offering a beacon of comfort amidst the storm that raged within her.

“Princess, thank the Gods you are alive,” Lord Unwin exclaimed, his voice heavy with relief. Maera found herself unable to respond, grappling with a profound sense of ambivalence. What significance did her continued existence hold in the wake of the harrowing ordeal she had endured? Broken, maimed, and traumatised, Maera struggled to discern any tangible value in her survival, her inner turmoil eclipsing any semblance of gratitude for being alive.

When Lord Unwin reached out to touch her hand, she allowed the contact, though her expression remained distant and troubled. “I have spoken with the guards about their lack of presence today,” Lord Unwin continued, his tone reassuring. “It will not be repeated. There will be no more threats outside nor inside this castle.”

Maera remained silent for a long moment, detached from reality as her thoughts were consumed by the haunting memory of her confrontation with Alys. The details of the guards' presence, or lack thereof, held little sway over her now, offering neither solace nor closure in the aftermath of the witch's attack.

Alys had attacked her cruelly, with the intention to kill Maera and her child. But now nothing remained of the witch, or the babe she carried in her womb. Just the indelible mark of her actions, etched in the charred remnants of the lavender field where justice had been meted out by the flames of Ēbrion's breath. Upon Maera’s own command.

The hatchling will be scorched by dragon fire in the castle of the old Kings Curse

Finally, Maera spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with anguish. “I am a monster.”

The Maester's gentle voice interjected, his expression filled with empathy. “Do not say such things, Princess,” he urged, his eyes conveying understanding. But Maera shook her head, her anguish evident.

“I killed her,” Maera stated, the admission weighing heavily upon her. “I killed her baby. Who was just about to be born.”

“You were protecting yourself. And your child,” Lord Unwin declared firmly, his tone unwavering as he sought to offer solace and justification for Maera's actions.

Yet she continued to grapple with the weight of her actions, she found herself mired in a profound moral quandary. Despite the undeniable necessity of defending herself and her unborn child against Alys's malevolent onslaught, Maera couldn't shake the unsettling parallel she drew between her own actions and those of the Rogue Prince Daemon, who had ordered the death of Jaehaerys and orchestrated the recent attempt on Maera's own life, gnawed at her sense of morality, blurring the line between righteousness and retribution.

Was she truly any better than Daemon, whose transgressions had wrought sorrow upon the realm? The realization that she had extinguished not only Alys's life but also that of the innocent babe nestled within her womb weighed heavily upon her soul, leaving her adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity.

Raised in reverence of the faith of the Seven, Maera found herself grappling with the teachings of the late Lady Gael, who instilled the Mother’s mercy in her daughter. But how could she reconcile her devout faith in the teachings of the Seven, particularly the tenets of mercy and forgiveness, with the stark reality of her role as arbiter of life and death?

The Princess rested her head in her hands, feeling the weight of her guilt bearing down on her. She took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself amidst the turmoil. “The Gods will never forgive me,” she whispered, her voice heavy with remorse. A sudden worry crossed her mind, and she looked up at both men, her expression filled with apprehension. “What will Aemond say?”

Lord Unwin's response was swift and unforgiving. “The Prince should have slain her long ago,” he scoffed, his tone sharp with disdain for Alys and the threat she posed.

Maera furrowed her brow as she thought about her husband, her nails digging into her palm with resentment. Aemond had stated he had never wanted this child with Alys, nor would he acknowledge it when it was born. And yet he was the one stupid enough to lie with her, as well as spare her life even though she had deceived him, allowing the child in her womb to flourish.

The realization that Aemond had left her vulnerable at Harrenhall, to run off into war and fight some battle in the name of duty and glory, exposed to the machinations of Alys, fueled Maera's anger to a fever pitch. She couldn't fathom how he could have allowed himself to be ensnared by Alys's deceitful promises, putting not only himself, but his wife and their unborn child at the witch’s mercy.

The Princess had had enough. Fuck him, she thought. When he returned, if he even did, Maera knew that their relationship had been irreversibly altered by the events that had unfolded, leaving her to confront the harsh reality of their fractured trust and the lingering wounds of betrayal.

A sudden sense of clarity washed over her. Time and time again, Aemond had put his duty, his own selfish wants above Maera, for the sake of some ridiculous prophecy he had convinced himself was real. That was one thing, but putting his vision of greatness about his unborn child’s well-being? That was the final straw.

Despite claims of love or being bound by something greater than themselves, Aemond had possessed her through manipulating Maera’s world. To him, the cost did not matter. Not the cost of her family’s life, not the cost of proposals, not the cost of Maera’s own happiness. Yet she forgave him constantly. But the love she held for the child in her womb was leading her down a different path this time.

Would the Prince truly expect that everything would be fine when he returned? That they could all go back to carry out the fairytale of Prince and Princess bound together by fate and destiny? How could he continuously ask Maera to endure but not expect her fury in return?

There was a moment of heavy silence before the Maester intervened, offering his counsel to the Princess. “You have been through quite an ordeal. I advise bed rest for the next few weeks, and to refrain from riding until the wound is fully healed.”

Maera couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the suggestion. “Then we are vulnerable,” she declared, frustration evident in her voice as she gestured in defeat. “Be it from the north or the west, someone will come for Harrenhall. It is the closest war fortress to King's Landing.”

Lord Unwin stepped forward, offering a solution to bolster their defenses. “Allow me to make some arrangements, Princess,” he proposed, retrieving a scroll and presenting it to her. Unfurling the parchment to reveal a map of Westeros, he continued, “We can move some of our men throughout the Riverlands and station them at various points. This way, warning will come quickly if an impending attack is spotted.”

Grateful for his initiative and support, Maera nodded in agreement. “Thank you, my Lord,” she replied, her voice filled with gratitude for the ally who offered counsel and assistance in her weakened state.

As the nights stretched on, Maera found herself trapped in a cycle of sleeplessness and discomfort. The mental torment of her recent ordeal with Alys weighed heavily on her mind, refusing to let her find respite in slumber. She could not stop thinking about how Alys’s blood dripped onto the stone path, how Alys had attacked her with her own dagger, and how she had ordered Ēbrion to set her ablaze.

Dracarys.

The physical pain from her wounds, despite the Maester's efforts and the milk of the poppy, persisted relentlessly. Every movement brought a fresh wave of agony, making even the simplest tasks unbearable. Maera longed for the oblivion of sleep, yet found it elusive amidst the throbbing ache in her arm and thigh.

Adding to her discomfort was the incessant activity of her unborn child. Despite the turmoil Maera experienced, the babe within her seemed unaffected, its movements becoming increasingly vigorous as the nights wore on. With only two moons left until they would be born, the baby had grown considerably, its kicks now strong enough to jolt Maera with a sharp jab to her ribs.

After a week of enduring sleepless nights, the Maester, concerned for Maera's well-being, finally prescribed her essence of nightshade. Relieved at the prospect of finding some reprieve from her insomnia, Maera accepted the Maester's recommendation and took the concoction with a soothing cup of tea before retiring to bed.

As she settled beneath the covers, the essence of nightshade began to take effect, slowly easing the tension from her body and coaxing her weary mind into a state of tranquility. The weight of exhaustion lifted from her shoulders, replaced by a gentle sense of drowsiness that washed over her like a wave upon the shore. However in the depths of slumber, Maera found herself once again trapped within the confines of a haunting nightmare that she knew all too well.

The throne room of the Red Keep loomed before her, its grandeur and majesty casting a sense of foreboding that chilled her to the bone. The room was vast, with towering marble pillars reaching up to support the vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate carvings and golden chandeliers that bathed the space in a soft, flickering light.

“Muña?” Mother? Maera whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

As Maera's eyes swept across the room, her heart constricted with a mixture of sorrow and dread as she spotted the familiar figure of her late mother, the Lady Gael, standing at the foot of the Iron Throne. Lady Gael's once radiant silver hair hung in disarray around her shoulders, and her night dress was stained with crimson blood. Unable to resist the pull of the haunting vision before her, Maera approached her mother with hesitant steps, her heart heavy with grief.

She reached out to her in a desperate attempt to save her from whatever unseen threat lurked in the shadows. But before she could reach her, Lady Gael stumbled and fell, her body crumpling to the cold marble floor with a sickening thud. As Maera knelt beside her body, Lady Gael ominously pointed a finger into the distance, directing Maera's attention towards the Iron Throne itself. Confusion clouded her features as she tried to decipher the meaning behind her mother’s cryptic gesture, uncertain of what significance the throne held.

“Skoros kostagon nyke gaomagon, muña? Ivestragon skoros naejot gaomagon!” What can I do, mother? Tell me what to do! Maera weeped, holding onto her mother’s form as if her life depended on it.

Lady Gael, weakened and dying, reached up to tenderly brush a strand of hair from Maera's face. A feeble attempt at a smile flickered on her lips. “Ziry iksos vējes, Maera. Volpe ondoso Jaehossas.” It is fate, Maera. Foretold by the Gods. The colour then drained from her violet eyes, the smile faltered, and Lady Gael succumbed to the relentless grip of the dream's cruel reality

As Maera knelt on the cold floor of the throne room, her gaze drifted to the steps leading up to the Iron Throne, where an array of melted swords stood as a testament to the power of House Targaryen. But amidst the familiar display, she noticed something amiss. Several objects littered the steps, each one a grim reminder of the tragedies that had befallen her family and those she held dear.

The first to catch her eye was the headless body of four-year-old Jaehaerys, his small form lying motionless as blood pooled around him, staining the marble steps a deep crimson. Beside him lay a small, blood-stained cloth, a poignant symbol of the unborn daughter Helaena had lost, a miscarriage brought on by the anguish of losing her beloved son.

Above them was another lifeless body; The husband of her sister Wynni and one of the perpetrators of the attempt on Maera's life, Lord Alan lay lifeless, his throat slit and eyes vacant, a grim testament to the brutality of the world she lived in, as well as the necessity of the heinous act in order to protect herself and her child.

Beside Lord Alan Tarly's lifeless body lay another gruesome sight that sent a chill down Maera's spine. The charred, burnt remains of Alys Rivers, the witch who had brought chaos and suffering into Maera's life, lay before her. Her flesh was blackened and blistered, smoke still rising from her charred form. Despite the devastation, her decomposed hand cradled her large, blackened bump, a grim reminder of the innocent life lost in the chaos of their confrontation.

As the faint sound of a baby's cry pierced the air, Maera felt a wave of guilt wash over her. The knowledge that she had ended the life of an innocent child to protect herself filled her with a deep sense of remorse. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the haunting sound, but it echoed relentlessly in her mind, a reminder of the choices she had been forced to make.

When she finally opened her eyes, expecting to see the specter of her mother's death once more, Maera was met with a sight far more chilling. Resting in her lap was the lifeless body of Aemond, her husband, his once-vibrant violet eye now dull and lifeless. Blood oozed from his mouth, staining his colorless face, while his silver hair was matted with crimson.

The sight of Aemond's corpse sent a shockwave of agony through Maera's heart, and she felt as though the world around her was collapsing in on itself. In that moment, she was consumed by grief and despair, the weight of loss crushing her spirit as she stared down at the lifeless form of the man she had loved.

As Maera's consciousness clawed its way back from the depths of her nightmare, she found herself gasping for air, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. A desperate, blood-curdling scream tore from her throat, echoing in the silence of her chambers as she fought to shake off the tendrils of the dream that still clung to her mind.

With trembling hands, Maera reached out to her swollen stomach, seeking solace in the reassuring kicks of her unborn child. The gentle movement beneath her touch served as a grounding force, a reminder of the life growing within her amidst the chaos and turmoil of her thoughts.

But as her gaze swept across the empty space beside her in the bed, Maera's heart clenched with a pang of longing and sorrow. In that moment, all she could think about was Aemond – her husband, her betrayer, the man who had torn her life apart with his ambitions and prophecies.

The realization of how deeply entwined her fate was with his sent a shiver down her spine, filling her with a sense of dread and apprehension. If Aemond were to die – if the nightmare were to become reality – it would destroy her all over again, leaving her adrift in a sea of grief and despair from which she feared she would never escape.

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